Rick furrows his eyebrows and goes back to soaping up his underarms. “Let me think for a second.” He squints his eyes and mouths numbers. “Halsey dorm. Third floor up, six from the left on the side facing the administration building.”
“Thanks, I owe you,” I say, tearing off my practice gear and hopping into the shower next to Rick’s. I bathe as quickly as I can and get dressed. I’m wash so quickly I’m out of there before Rick’s even done showering. I grab my duffel and take off at a run back to campus.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ESTHER
“You’re skipping class? Seriously? You must have the plague,” Romy says as she gathers up her books.
I’m still in bed in my pyjamas. “Yeah, I’m not feeling great. Just tell Professor Jenkins that I’ll get the notes from you.”
Romy squints at me skeptically. “You sure you’re okay? I’ve been your roommate for over two years and I’ve never, ever seen you miss class before.”
“We all burn out at some point, Romy. I’ve got a lot going on. Now hurry before I make you late.”
“Text me if you need something,” she says, opening the door to our dorm.
“I will. Have fun.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s highly unlikely.”
She shuts the door and I sigh. The truth is that I skipped practice because I didn’t want to see Saint, and I’m still feeling guilty about last night in the chapel. I’ve been acting so strangely I can’t trust myself to not offer a full critique of Original Sin in front of Jenkins.
I roll over and grab the copy of Mark Twain I stole from the house party. I crack it open, enjoying the fresh fall air coming through the window along with a morning sunbeam that’s warming me perfectly. This feels entirely decadent.
I like it.
An hour later, I’m dozing off behind my book.
That’s when something hits the window. Hard.
I sit upright, totally awakened out of my slumber. I look at the window. It’s not cracked or anything.
POP!
Something else hits the window. I throw the covers off and stand up, resting my palms on the painted window ledge. I look down and yelp, jumping back and covering my chest with my arms.
Saint Williams is standing underneath my bedroom window. And he’s throwing pebbles up at me. I grab a blanket and wrap it around my upper body for modesty, even though Romy calls my pyjamas “Amish-inspired.” It still feels strangely intimate for a guy to be seeing me in them.
“What do you want?” I hiss down to Saint.
His hair is wet and his arm muscles are rippling; in his left hand is a football. He clearly just got back from practice. “Missed you this morning at practice,” he yells up in a clear voice.
I shush him. “People are going to see you.”
Saint shrugs. “So what? I’m used to people seeing me.”
“You need to leave,” I hiss down at him.
“If you come down here I will,” he says.
“What?”
He laughs. “I can’t very well come upstairs, can I?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Unless you really want me to, and then I could-“
I shush him again. “Fine!” I whisper hoarsely. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”
I slam the windows shut and sit on the edge of my bed to collect myself. My heart is racing and my cheeks are on fire with embarrassment. I finally get it together enough to pull on a long skirt and one of my dozen cardigans. I actually grab the baby pink one. I never wear this one. I usually stick to taupe, grey, and white. This one is half a size too small for me.
I blush as I think about why I chose it. I actually want to look good for Saint.
The guy that I allegedly don’t care about.
I’m not doing a great job convincing myself that’s true anymore, clearly.
I grab my room key and head downstairs.
Saint is at the side entrance, leaning against the wall nonchalantly and spinning a football in his fingers. “Hey,” he says in a voice like caramel.
“Did you check that ball out of the supply room? Because Coach makes me count them,” I retort, hoping for a change of subject that gives me the upper hand.
“Relax, Delilah. I do follow some rules, believe it or not.” He steps closer to me. “I like that sweater. That’s a good color on you.”
I blush. Again. I cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”
“I want to know why you weren’t at practice today. You don’t look sick to me,” he says challengingly.
Oh. Right. I’m supposed to be sick, not waltzing around in pink cardigans with the most eligible guy on campus. “I’m feeling better now, thanks,” I reply.
Saint pierces me with his gaze. “You know what I think?”
“What?” My heart cannot handle his blue eyes right now. They’re too much.
“I think you were embarrassed about last night and you didn’t want to see me at practice.”
I open my mouth to speak but he cuts me off.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. You’re here now. And you’re coming with me.”
I guffaw at this pronouncement. “Excuse me?”
He tosses the football at me and I catch it easily. “You heard me. Come on.”
He strides away confidently, heading down the sidewalk to the student parking lot. I don’t have a car. Saint does.
I weigh my options. Every fiber of my being wants to follow Saint.
The rational part of my brain is telling me not to.
But I already know that in the last twenty-four hours I haven’t been acting like myself.
What’s a few more hours?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAINT
She’s wearing that same dowdy cardigan that drives me crazy.
Only this time, it’s pink.
On most girls, this would be just another boring shade. Nothing special. Just ordinary.
But on Esther? The color makes her cheeks glow even more than they do when I’m making her blush.
And it seems to be a size smaller than she normally wears.
Nothing like a fresh set of sweater puppies to get a guy going in the morning.
I’m a good ten yards away from her dorm when I finally hear her feet jogging to keep up with me. I play it cool and don’t turn around.
I knew she would follow me. Nobody can resist this smile, not even her.
I unlock my Jeep and toss my duffel into the backseat. Esther throws the football on top of the bag and climbs inside the Jeep.
“Never thought I’d see the day when Delilah skipped class to go off campus.” I turn the key and the engine roars to life.
She shrugs and gives me a sexy grin. Well, I’m not sure she knows it’s sexy, but it sure as fuck is. “Where are we going?”
I put the Jeep in drive and speed away. “You’ll see.”
A half an hour of Blue Ridge Parkway scenery and we’ve reached the closest big town. I pull into the parking lot of my favorite ice cream shop and hop out.
“Ice cream? Really?” she asks me this with a surprised look on her face.
“What did you think? I was going to take you day drinking at a bar?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she doesn’t even object. Her cheeks are turning bright red though, which is how I know I’ve got her.
I hold open the door for her and she steps inside.
The smell of sweet, freshly-made waffle cones fills my nose. The bright pink and purple walls greet us along with a hello from the owner, Tom.
“If it isn’t the miracle on the field himself!” Tom walks out from behind the counter with his arms spread wide in greeting. “Long time no see.”
“Good to see you, Tom.”
He looks at Esther. “And who is this?”
“Esther,” she says, offering her hand to him.
Tom returns the handshake and winks at me. “You two skipping out on class?”
Esther looks panicked.
“We
are, Tom,” I say with confidence. “Such a gorgeous autumnal day, didn’t want to miss it.” My stomach growls loudly and I throw my hand over my stomach. “And I skipped breakfast, so you’re going to have to load us up.”
“The kitchen sink?” he asks.
“Kitchen sink, two spoons, please.” I turn to Esther. “The couch is the comfiest,” I whisper in her ear. She blushes even harder.
“I think I’ll stick to a good old-fashioned table and chairs, thanks,” she retorts.
We take a seat at the window. The sky outside is completely cloudless. It’s like God sneezed and blew away the normal layers of dust and pollution that usually obscure the intensity of the blue.
“This weather is unbelievable,” I say, pulling out a paper napkin from the silver holder. I proceed to tear it into pieces.
Esther looks at me, unamused. “You enjoy making messes everywhere you go?”
“I like to have something to do with my hands at all times,” I say, flashing her a flirtatious grin. “And since you won’t let me hold your hand, I have to find something else to do.”
She’s holding back a smile. “You don’t ever stop, do you?”
“You’ve seen me play football. Do you think I ever stop?”
“No,” she replies. “I think you’ve actually worked for everything you have. Which is refreshing.”
I laugh. “Are you actually paying me a compliment, Delilah?”
“Don’t get used to it,” she says, smiling a little.
“So why water girl?” I ask her.
Tom interrupts us with the salad-bowl-sized special. “One kitchen sink and two spoons.” He hands one to Esther and one to me. “Enjoy!”
Esther’s eyes are the size of saucers. “What is this?” she asks in awe.
“This is everything but the kitchen sink,” I explain. I use my spoon as a pointer. “One scoop of cookie dough, rocky road, pistachio, strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, rainbow sherbet, chocolate chip, peppermint, and peanut butter.” I take a breath. “Chocolate sauce, cherry sauce, strawberry sauce, caramel drizzle, cookie pieces, M&Ms, licorice, whipped cream, two whole bananas split down the middle, and topped off with nine maraschino cherries.” I dip into the concoction with relish.
“You eat this whole thing by yourself?” Esther asks.
I pause.
“Oh. No. Of course. You bring along another woman to help you finish it.”
“Does that bother you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Why would it? It’s not like this is a date.” She dips into the rainbow sherbet. I like the way her lips cover the metal spoon. It’s giving me all kinds of ideas.
“This isn’t a date, that’s right. It’s a pre-date,” I say.
She laughs. “A pre-date? What is that?”
“A pre-date is the date before a real date.”
“Yeah, I could have worked that out on my own, thanks,” Esther replies through a mouthful of pistachio ice cream.
“I’m taking you out. Probably tomorrow. I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know before the pre-date is over.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And what makes you think I’ll go on a date with you? What makes you think that I’ll say yes?”
I rest my spoon in the bowl and lean back. “Because you followed me here, didn’t you?”
She’s trying not to smile. Again. “Maybe I just needed a change of scenery.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you secretly want me. You almost kissed me last night, after all.”
Esther puts her spoon down and crosses her arms over her chest. “I did not.”
“You did too.”
“Did not – ugh. You’ve got me sounding like a little child, Saint. Stop it.”
“You still didn’t answer my question about why you applied to be the water girl,” I point out.
She plucks a maraschino cherry from the top of the whipped cream mountain and bites it off the long stem. “I needed something else on my resume.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Right, because leading the honors college, running chapel services, double-majoring in women’s studies and history, and volunteering for three different organizations wasn’t enough?”
Esther looks at me, gobsmacked. “How do you know all of that?”
“I have connections.”
“You’re stalking me,” she replies.
“I looked into you. Is that stalking now?” I ask. “I just like to do my research.”
“You found my dorm room and threw rocks at my window. You have my entire curriculum vitae memorized. I think that qualifies as stalking.”
I take an enormous bite of peppermint ice cream. “You keep avoiding the question.”
She sighs and uncrosses her arms to pick up her spoon again. “I signed up to be the water girl because I like football. That’s why.”
“You don’t strike me as a gridiron woman,” I reply.
“Looks like you didn’t do enough research, then,” she retorts. “Goodness, this ice cream is delicious.”
“Fucking best on the entire Eastern seaboard,” I say.
She flinches. “Don’t.”
“Don’t say fuck?” I ask her, teasingly.
“Yeah. I hate that word.”
“It’s just a word.”
“No, it isn’t. If it were just a word you might as well just say ‘monkey peanuts’ instead of – instead of, you know. That word.”
“You won’t even say it academically? Wow.” I cut off a piece of banana.
Esther reaches for a napkin and dabs at her mouth primly.
“You know what my new goal is?”
“What?”
“To get you to unclench for like, five minutes,” I say. “You’ve never had fun, have you?”
Esther lets go of her spoon. It clatters against the glass bowl. “I think you need to stop trying to force me into some ideal of what you want me to be. I’m not like other girls, and for some reason, that bothers you. And yet here you are, dragging me to ice cream parlors in the middle of the day and –“ she pauses and lowers her voice “-and trying to kiss me in the middle of holy sanctuaries. Either take me as I am, or leave me, but I’m not changing for anyone. Especially not an arrogant jerk like you.”
She stands up and walks out of the ice cream parlor.
Tom walks out of the kitchen. “Well, isn’t she a firecracker.” He looks at the half-finished kitchen sink. “You want that to go?”
I glance out the window and see Esther standing outside the shop, leaning against a stucco pillar. “Nah, she can wait.” I dig back into the ice cream, taking my sweet time.
Tom doesn’t even charge me when I’m done. The bell clangs as I step back out into the breezeway of the strip mall. Esther doesn’t turn around to look at me.
“You done being mad at me?” I ask, walking up close to her.
“Take me back to campus. I don’t want to miss all of my classes today,” she says.
I chuckle. “You think this pre-date is done yet? Nah. We’re just getting started.” I march confidently back to the Jeep.
Esther doesn’t object, but she’s still not talking to me.
I step on the gas and speed down the curving highway.
“Where are you taking me?” she finally asks, clearly not able to hold in her curiosity any longer.
“Just to a scenic overlook. Relax. It’s on a cliff with a low guard rail. You can push me over the edge if you want and it’ll look like an accident.” I steal a glance at Esther’s face and I see that she’s smiling.
“Sounds like a good deal,” she replies. “I’ll be sure to let people know you died while trying to take a selfie.”
The next few hours pass like minutes as we talk to one another. I end up pulling back the cloth roof of my Jeep and we sit inside of it at the overlook, staring at the Shenandoah Valley below us. I’ve got my seat leaned back so far I’m nearly horizontal, and Esther has loosened up enough to tilt hers back at least a few degrees.
“My dad never
let me watch football games in person,” Esther says quietly as the mid-afternoon sun sinks ever lower in the sky. “He only ever took my brothers.”
“Sounds like a real asshole,” I say.
Esther shoots me a sharp look. “Don’t say that. He just has very particular ideas about what a woman should and shouldn’t do in her free time.”
“I’m guessing skipping all your classes to hang out with a guy who isn’t your husband or fiancé probably falls on his ‘shouldn’t’ list?”
Esther smiles at me. “You would be correct in guessing that.” She twirls that same strand of hair that her ponytail can’t ever manage to hold. My hands want to be all over her body so badly but I can’t chance her rejecting me. She’s finally opening up. “Football was my favorite thing. I used to practice spiral throws by myself in the backyard when my dad was at work. My brothers would never throw to me at all.”
I sit upright. “Well, I think I know what we’re doing next, then.” I reach into the back seat and grab the football I stole from the practice room. I open my door.
“Here?” Esther asks.
“Why not?”
She opens the passenger side door and stumbles out onto the gravel. “Because we’re at the top of a mountain!”
“Don’t dive for the ball, then,” I say with a grin. I throw her the football before she has time to prepare herself. She catches it without even thinking. “Wow. Nice catch.”
She smiles and throws a perfect spiral pass. I catch it. It even stings my hands from the force.
“I told you, I’ve had a lot of practice.”
We throw the ball back and forth a dozen more times. “You know,” I say, sending the ball back over to her. “I was trying to be sneaky.”
“Oh really? In what way?” she asks.
I shrug and grin at her. “I thought you’d need more help with passing. So I was going to take the opportunity to wrap my arms around you and help you with your form. But the joke’s on me there. You throw the ball better than half the guys on the team.”
Esther nervously straightens out her long skirt and bites her lip. “I could use a little help.”
My feet crunch as I walk over the gravel and close the gap between us. “Alright,” I say, putting my arms around her from behind. I love the feeling of her ass against my dick. I need to keep my dirty thoughts to myself. “Raise your arm like this,” I say, locking my fingers around her hand. “And make sure to let the ball just slip through your fingers.”
Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 6
