Drew: Book One of the Perfectly Independent Series

by Amanda Shelley

  Abby: I’ll be there. Sydney will kill me if I back out now. It had better be worth all the hype. Lol

  Her sharp tongue has me smiling uncontrollably. I can picture her eyes narrowing and her expression serious.

  Me: It’ll be a great game. If we win, will you come to the next home game?

  Her response is instant.

  Abby: What happens if you don’t?

  Me: Bite your tongue, woman. You’re gonna jinx us. Just for that, you owe me.

  Abby: For what?

  Me: For having such little faith.

  Abby: Sorry. No harm meant. How can I make it up to you and your precious ego?

  I can picture her chin jutting out and her eyes rolling. But I’m almost certain she’s not backing out.

  Me: When we win—which we will—I’ll think of something. So be ready.

  I see the dots appear, then disappear, and repeat this pattern for a few agonizing moments. When I can’t take it any longer, I quickly tap a question into the text field.

  Me: What time do you want to study tomorrow?

  Abby: I work until noon. But I’m free afterward.

  Me: Want me to pick you up from the library at noon?

  Abby: Sure. BTW—good luck tonight.

  Me: Thanks. Gotta run. See you there.

  Abby: Sure—It’ll be like finding Waldo in the crowd. Lol

  I laugh aloud, earning a questioning look from DeShawn as he enters my room wearing a suit and CRU color for his shirt and tie. We’re each wearing a variation of this for game day. Instead of paying him any attention, I send my last text to Abby.

  Me: If we win tonight, I’ll be at your place an hour after the game ends to celebrate. If I don’t, I’ll be there to commiserate.

  I cringe when it hits me that I might be overstepping a boundary. We haven’t talked about any of this. But I’m a go with your gut type of guy.

  I just hope I didn’t fuck up royally.

  Instead of waiting for a response, I quickly shove my phone into my pocket. Looking to DeShawn, who’s adjusting his tie in my mirror, I ask, “Ready to go?”

  “Sure thing, man. Let’s go kick some ass.” He fist-bumps me, and we head out to find Grey. Of course, the sports fanatic he is, we find him in his usual spot on the couch, dressed and ready to go, watching highlights on SportsCenter. He immediately stands, and we leave for the arena.

  It isn’t until after the National Anthem has been sung that I notice Abby in the stands. It’s almost as if my body sensed her before my eyes can. She’s flanked by Chloe and Sydney on both sides as she shimmies her way to a seat in the student section. She’s not as close to the court as the last game, but she’s easy to spot. They’re decked out in CRU gear and appear eager to watch the game. I can’t help the smile that forms when Sydney spots me staring and bumps Abby in the shoulder to point me out. Not wanting to make a scene, I nod and wink in her direction, letting her know that I did indeed find Waldo in this sea of red and black.

  Abby rolls her eyes and shrugs, sending the message of yes, you found me, from across the arena.

  What is it about this girl that makes her so special? It’s not like me to be this distracted before a game. But the moment I find her, I feel the calm I need wash over me.

  I don’t have time to consider this because Coach calls us into a huddle. After giving a team cheer, the game begins, and my focus switches entirely to the court. There’s no way I’m going to let Colorado win, if I can help it.

  By the time the buzzer for halftime sounds, CRU’s in the lead by ten points. As we make our way off the court to the locker room, I spot Abby still watching my every move. I raise an eyebrow and shrug in her direction, “Having fun?”

  Somehow, she reads my lips through the crowd, and she smiles and nods, making my heart rate soar. DeShawn slaps me on the back as he joins me, switching my focus back to the team. We jog off the court to the locker room, and I take my usual place for Coach’s words of wisdom.

  CRU’s pumped when we hit the floor to warm up again. As much as I want to glance at Abby, I keep my head in the game and my thoughts controlled. We practice a few drills and before I know it, the game has resumed. We keep our lead through the second half, thanks to DeShawn’s jump shot from the back court, and my stats stay consistent. The rest of the team is on fire, and Colorado just can’t catch a break.

  When the final buzzer sounds, the crowd is on its feet, showing their appreciation. I finally let myself glance to Abby. Even from across the room, her infectious smile lights me up from the inside. I can’t wait to celebrate with her this evening. I have something planned, but it’s been so long since I’ve tried anything like this with a girl. I’m afraid to admit, I’m a bit out of practice, and just pray it won’t be a flop.

  Unfortunately, by the time I get to Abby’s, it’s been well over an hour since the game ended. I was pulled into the conference room to conduct a live interview and couldn’t leave the arena as soon as I’d hoped.

  God, I hope she’ll understand; some things are beyond my control when it comes to my time after a game.

  I knock on her door and wait hesitantly.

  I’m still riding the high from our win. But the longer I wait, an unusual feeling settles over me. A tingle races up my spine, and my palms sweat as I wonder if she’s still willing to help me celebrate.

  I grip the necessary supplies loaded in my arms tighter, as I take in a deep breath to calm myself.

  God, I freaking hope I didn’t read her wrong.

  When the door opens, Abby takes my breath away. Her long brown hair flows over her shoulders in waves. Her oversized CRU basketball jersey somehow looks sexy, and her dark skinny jeans make her legs look as if they go on for miles. But that’s not what does it for me. Nope—it’s the way she slowly peruses me up and down—almost subconsciously. Hmmm. Maybe I have a similar effect on her.

  When I went home to pick up everything for tonight, I changed into a pair of jeans and dark-fitted henley. Showing up to her place in a suit would’ve been a bit much for what I have planned.

  When her eyes finally drag up my body to meet mine, she pulls in her lower lip and chews it nervously.

  Fuck, if that doesn’t make my cock stir.

  Ignoring my body’s natural reaction, I force myself to string coherent thoughts together. “Hey.”

  Yeah. I’m rockin’ this.

  Shit, Jacobs, pull your head out of your ass and speak in full sentences. “Sorry I’m late. There was a press conference after the game.”

  “I know. Sydney made us watch as soon as we got home. I figured you’d be later than expected.” She suddenly notices the bag in my hand and opens the door wider. “Wanna come in?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” I step through the door, and she shuts it behind us. Instead of stopping in the living room, I walk directly to her kitchen and pull out items from my bag.

  “Do you like cinnamon rolls?” I ask innocently.

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “Um, yeah. How’d you know?”

  I know I’ve hit my mark when she eagerly looks to the bag in my hands. I may have done some social media stalking—but I won’t confirm or deny it, if ever asked.

  “Just a guess. I picked up Cinnabon from the mall after class. I even managed to snag some extra frosting.” I attempt to sound as if this is something I’d ordinarily do. “Mind if I warm this up in the microwave?”

  “No, I most certainly don’t mind.” She sounds almost giddy, and I know I hit the mark. But then her eyes narrow, and she pointedly asks, “Did Sydney tell you cinnamon rolls are my kryptonite?” She looks down the hall to where I assume Sydney is.

  “I haven’t spoken a word to Sydney.” That I can say with honesty.

  “Chloe? Did you talk to Chloe?” Abby asks again, her voice filled with suspicion.

  “Nope. Haven’t talk with her either.”

  Abby stares at me in disbelief. “Then how did you know these are my favorite?”

  Not wanting to admit my bla
tant stalking, I shrug dismissively. “Lucky guess?”

  “Hmmm…” Abby ponders, but when the microwave dings, she’s like a kid on Christmas morning, waiting for her treat as she jumps to the microwave and practically claps her hands together in delight. Her smile’s so infectious, I’d bring her cinnamon rolls every day if I get to see this expression. Damn, she’s beautiful.

  She hands me silverware, and I plate our gooey perfection onto the dishes she places on the counter.

  Abby doesn’t wait for me to get my cinnamon roll onto my plate. She takes one of the extra toppings and pops the lid to spread some of its creamy goodness on top of her cinnamon roll.

  Before she says another word, she slices a fork through the gooey concoction and lifts a piece to her beautiful mouth. The guttural moan she lets out makes me wonder what other type of sounds she makes in pleasure.

  With her mouth still full, she covers it and practically moans. “God, I love these.”

  And all the blood in my body decides to head south at this exact moment.

  Holy hell. Kill. Me. Now.

  With the few brain cells I have firing, I quickly close my eyes and will my body to regain control. To focus my attention elsewhere, I take a bite of my own cinnamon roll.

  She isn’t lying. This is amazing. I manage to finish chewing before I agree wholeheartedly. “Damn. These are good. I haven’t had one in forever.”

  She looks at me in mock horror. “You don’t get one every time you go near their store?” She pulls a face and suddenly, she looks serious. “I’m not sure we can be friends.”

  I roll my eyes at her theatrics. “Well, we can’t have that. Does this mean if we ever venture to the mall, this is a required stop?”

  She takes another bite and savors the taste before replying, “The only time I don’t stop is when Sydney bribes me with a whole pan at home. I swear she must’ve stolen their recipe because hers are almost better than this, if you can imagine.” She takes another bite and groans in appreciation.

  Seriously? Kill. Me. Now.

  Holy hell! Abby’s breathtaking when she loses her inhibitions and allows pleasure to take over.

  Wonder what she would do if I made her feel that good?

  Jesus! Don’t go there.

  I don’t have time for the type of relationship she deserves, I scold myself. Focus!

  Drawing my eyes back to my cinnamon roll, I take another delicious bite to further distract myself. I manage to keep my tone casual in response to her last statement. “Wow. That’s impressive. I can’t imagine anyone beating these. They were Summer’s favorite, too.” Remembering how she got excited when we got her one brings a smile to my face.

  “She had good taste.” Abby smiles widely and scrapes more frosting onto her cinnamon roll. The girl sure has a sweet tooth.

  “Yeah, she did.” Then I cringe, remembering Summer’s eccentric tastes before she got sick. “Except, she also liked peanut butter and pickle sandwiches with Doritos smashed inside them.”

  “Ewww…” Abby wrinkles her nose in disgust, and I don’t blame her one bit. YUCK!

  “Exactly. She used to make them for me and because of our ‘No Thank You’ rule, the brat knew I had to take at least one bite before I could politely decline her concoctions. I swear she used that rule to her advantage each time. Since she knew I’d do almost anything for her, if I didn’t have to eat some of her culinary delights.” I shiver at the grossness of some of her ‘experiments’ as she liked to call them. Sure, some were decent. But most were inedible.

  “I would’ve loved to have met her. She sounds amazing. Though, I’ve never been brave when it comes to trying new things with food.”

  As we finish our rolls, I ask, “I know we have early classes tomorrow, but I’m too keyed up from the game. Wanna go for a walk and help me burn off some of this energy?”

  “Not to mention the sugar rush,” she teases.

  “That, too,” I agree. “Let’s walk around campus. I know it’s dark, but it’s a clear night for a change. Let’s take advantage of the unusually mild winter in the Pacific Northwest.”

  Abby hops up from her chair at the table. “Sure, just let me get my jacket.” She starts taking her plate to the sink, but I reach for it instead. “How about I clean these while you do that?”

  Damn. Her grateful smile has my pulse picking up a beat.

  Thankfully, she exits the room quickly. I swear if her eyes lock on mine any longer, I would have followed her into the other room in only a matter of a heartbeat.

  Geez, what the hell has gotten into me?

  Not wanting to make an ass of myself as soon as she’s out of sight, I quickly turn my attention to the plate in my hand and have our mess cleaned up in no time.

  Unfortunately, as we make our way onto campus, there’s an unspoken electric pulse that flows between us. I swear, I’m acutely aware of her every movement. It takes everything in me not to reach out and hold her hand. Somehow, I manage to refrain. It also helps when she talks with her hands animatedly about how she and Chloe tried to replicate Sydney’s cinnamon roll recipe, which led to an epic fail, and the opportunity passes. Apparently, they forgot to put yeast in the dough, and it ended up being a gooey mess.

  When we get to the cobblestone courtyard in the center of campus, I’m pleased to find it empty. During the day, the outlining benches are filled with people mingling. But for now, we have it to ourselves. The brick buildings are lit from the ground, making it almost magical.

  “I love it here at night,” Abby sighs as she spins around in a circle with her arms wide. The glow from the lights shine on Abby, making her even more beautiful. Her hair is now almost black as it flows out from her twirl. My hands itch to touch her.

  Then she makes a second twirl as she takes in the beauty of the campus.

  Without another thought, I reach out and take her hand. I guide her through a series of twirls to keep her moving, so we can stay in this moment. Her light laughter warms my heart, the look of pure abandon on her face makes me wish I could pause this moment to live in it forever. We dance effortlessly around the center of campus without a care in the world before we’re interrupted by a group of people coming around the corner.

  Without any prompting, Abby stops dancing and pulls me down a path in the opposite direction. Once we’re out of sight, she lets go of my hand and shrugs. “Sorry. After pulling off that win, I doubt they wouldn’t recognize you. And I’m being selfish; I don’t feel like sharing you now with your fans.”

  Holy shit. She knows me better than I thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love my fans, but right now, I just want to be with her. Could she be anymore perfect? I practically stutter in both shock and awe. “I… Um… Don’t want to be shared.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Abby smirks, and I want nothing more than to pull her in and kiss that expression off her face. But I refrain. Just barely.

  Before I get a chance to respond, Abby turns on her heels and practically speed walks back toward her place.

  How the hell can someone her size eat up the pavement so fast?

  Seriously, was she a competitive speed walker?

  But being a few paces behind her leaves a fantastic view. Her jeans are worn in just the right places, making me wonder even more what it’d be like to get them off her.

  “What’s the rush?” I finally ask when I force myself to stop staring at her perfect ass.

  Abby stops and turns to me. “I didn’t think you wanted to be bombarded?”

  “It doesn’t mean I want to rush my time with you,” I point out. “Wanna slow your roll?” I tease.

  This earns me an eye roll and a breathtaking smile. “I’m not walking that fast,” she insists as she places a hand on her hip.

  “Um, I’m six-five, and you were pulling away from me—and I was walking my normal pace. Do you always walk like your ass is on fire?” I quirk an eyebrow, trying to make my point, though I hope she doesn’t accuse me of staring at her ass. I’m a guy.
But that’s beside the point.

  She scoffs. “I like to be efficient. You know that,” she says defensively.

  “Uh… have I done something to offend you and now you want to end our evening?”

  “Uh,” she huffs. “No.” She looks anywhere but at me for a long moment. But when I don’t say anything, she mutters, “I’m just embarrassed because I let myself get carried away back there.”

  So… she walks like a speeding freight train when she’s uncomfortable.

  Interesting.

  I file that piece of information away and get back to the point at hand. Shrugging, I act as casual as I can. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m the one who saw you twirl and had to dance with you. So, if anyone got carried away, I’d say it was me. I’m not ashamed I enjoyed our moment, are you?”

  She sighs heavily, and her shoulders visibly relax, and I feel my heartbeat relax with hers. “No, I’m not ashamed. I just don’t let myself get carried away like that.”

  “Ever hear all work and no play makes one cranky all day?” I tease.

  This time I get an eye roll with a shaking of her head. “I don’t think I’ve heard it like that before, but something along those lines. You might be paraphrasing.”

  “Well, Angel… it’s time to let your hair down and relax. You’re far too young for worry lines and premature gray hair. Don’t get me wrong, I work hard, but I also see the benefit of letting loose when the time’s right. If losing Summer has taught me anything, it’s that each moment is precious—and if you can’t find something to smile about each day, there’s not a lot to live for.”

  Abby’s mouth gapes open, and she stares for an immeasurable moment.