Swagger

by Liz Lincoln

  She and Stefon had been physics majors together in undergrad and started dating junior year. They applied to the same schools, and when they both got into three of the same ones, Bree had assumed they’d go to one of those together. Instead, he’d accepted a spot at Boston University—the one school she didn’t get into—and without telling Bree, arranged for her to work as a lab assistant on campus. When he’d told her his plan and followed it up with a proposal, she’d been so furious at his manipulation, at how he’d gone behind her back, that she turned him down. The next day he begged her to reconsider. She refused, enrolled at Milwaukee University with Reina, and hadn’t spoken to Stefon since.

  Between her dad, her brothers, and Stefon, she had serious issues with people doing things behind her back.

  “Umm,” she said in response to her father. Hopefully he’d get the hint that she had zero interest in what Stefon was up to. If she wanted to know, she could ask one of the mutual friends they had on Facebook.

  Not surprising, Dad missed the hint. “He and his wife are expecting their first child.”

  “Good for them,” Bree said flatly.

  “That could’ve been you.” Dad’s voice was both wistful and stern.

  Noooo! Her brain refused to accept that as even a possibility. Except he was right. If she’d said yes to Stefon, she’d be the pregnant wife his mom was telling acquaintances about at the grocery store.

  She shuddered. “Dodged that bullet.”

  “Are you going to argue with everything I say just to be difficult?” he snapped.

  “I am if you keep telling me everything I’m doing wrong with my life.” Her eyes filled with tears and she had to work to hold back a sob. She hated that she was reacting like a petulant child. But she could only hear how much her dad disapproved of her choices—and she got it from Hank and Silas too—before it got to be too much.

  “I’m not tell—”

  “Yes, you are.” He didn’t get to gaslight her on this. Bree pressed her hand to her chest, trying to hold in the panic pressing on her, trying to get out. Her friends would be there soon and she didn’t have the energy for a full-blown panic attack. She needed to stop it now.

  The back door opened and she heard Tomás’ heavy footsteps as he entered the kitchen. Saved by her roommate’s boyfriend. “I need to go. Bye, Dad.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, just tapped end on her phone and tossed it to the end of the couch. Her earbuds yanked out of her ears and went with the phone.

  Diablo wasn’t much of a lap cat, but he seemed to have a sense of when Bree’s anxiety was hitting critical levels. He stood, stretched his back, then climbed onto her chest and settled down. He bonked his head into her chin and rubbed against her.

  She slid her hand down his back, over and over in a soothing motion. “Thanks, D. You understand.” He always helped calm her anxiety. Petting the cat forced her out of her head and made her focus on the moment, rather than on whatever was triggering the panic. Funny how the actual weight of the cat got rid of the perceived weight of her anxiety.

  Her friends would be there soon and she could forget about her dad. And she’d keep doing what she wanted, whether her father or her brothers or her ex or anyone else liked it.

  The sound of Reina’s wheels on the hardwood pulled her further out of her head. “Tomás got you extra mole Oaxaca sauce.”

  Bree forced a weak smile. “Awesome.” She really did love the chocolate-infused sauce for her enchiladas. She’d be able to muster more enthusiasm in a few minutes.

  “What’s wrong?” Reina rolled closer, stopping right in front of Bree.

  The care and concern on her best friend’s face was Bree’s undoing. Tears released, trickling silently down her cheeks. The pressure in her chest seemed to explode, but there was no relief. Just more choking dread.

  She sniffed and swiped at her cheeks. “Just my dad. He had some teaching job he wanted me to take.”

  “Fuck him. Your dad and your brothers. They’re assholes. Fuck them all.”

  Reina’s vehemence startled a laugh out of Bree. That eased a tiny bit of the pressure inside her. “Easy for you to say. Your brother’s a biochemist who understands and supports what you do. Your dad can’t brag enough about his daughter.”

  Reina shrugged it off. “So borrow my family. You can be my sister. Bree Elizondo. I like it.”

  Now Bree’s smile was genuine. She adored Reina’s family. Since freshman move-in day, they’d been more accepting of Bree than her own family. Probably because they had less invested in how she turned out.

  But for fuck’s sake, she was getting a fucking PhD in physics. Why couldn’t her dad be proud of that?

  “Stefon’s wife is pregnant,” Bree said as she lifted Diablo off her chest. He made a soft sound of protest, then settled onto the other end of the couch. He shot Bree a dirty look before starting on a tongue bath.

  “Bullet dodged.” Reina held up her hand.

  Bree slapped her friend a high five.

  “Kevin and Eric will be here soon. Let’s eat.” Reina turned her chair toward the kitchen. “I even told Tomás to get the salsa with extra cilantro, just for you.”

  “Thanks.” Bree was going to shake her mood and enjoy poker night if it killed her. “I love you.”

  Reina flashed her cockiest Han Solo grin. “I know.”

  *

  —

  Marcus was so immensely gorgeous it wasn’t fair. The man made chewing garlic bread look sexy. When he was around, Bree’s entire body seemed to yearn for him, reaching toward him to be as close to him as possible. To exist in the same sphere.

  It had been a long time since she had a crush this intense, but apparently it made her dramatically poetic.

  He dabbed his mouth—lord, those lips were sexy—with a paper napkin and slid the serving plate toward Bree. “Have the last one.”

  After taking a bite and setting it on her plate, Bree leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been wanting to ask you. How come you decided to randomly take two science classes if you don’t like science?”

  “Simple. I’m a massive masochist and physical therapy and missing the season weren’t enough pain for me. So I added physics and geology.”

  Bree almost believed him; his expression stayed neutral, like he really did thrive on pain and it was no big deal. But the twinkle dancing in his eyes gave him away. “That makes sense. You don’t get the crap beaten out of you on the field, so you have to find some mental pain to keep things balanced. I get it.”

  He leaned his head back and laughed. A rich, full laugh that warmed Bree’s chest and made her pulse speed up. She liked making him laugh.

  And damn, that neck. She wanted to press her lips to the base of it and kiss her way up to his jaw.

  It was the third week in a row they’d had lunch together. The previous week it had been a big group and she barely got to talk to him, which was probably for the best. He’d also come to a few more of her office hours, and she could honestly say she’d never gotten hot and bothered talking about Einstein’s theory of relativity before. Even when she’d dated another physics major for two years in undergrad, homework hadn’t been sexy.

  Everything with Marcus was sexy. He was so inherently sexy he exuded it. Ugh, more bad mental poetry.

  This week, for the first time they were eating alone together. And she both loved and hated it. Besides him being her student and therefore off-limits, there was no way an NFL player, who could have his pick of single straight women in the city, would be interested in his nerdy physics instructor. It was destined to be an unrequited crush.

  A potent, arousing, exhilarating, unrequited crush.

  “Nah, I left school after junior year to enter the draft. Which has worked out well for me, I’d say.”

  She knew he’d been a business major at USC—though she wasn’t admitting that out loud—which she’d always found impressive. A business degree would do a lot for him when his football career ended. She knew h
e’d already invested in a handful of local businesses. God, she really was pathetically nosy.

  “You could do worse,” she agreed.

  “I’ve been slowly doing the classes I need to finish my degree. When I got hurt, I figured this is a good opportunity to get these last two classes out of the way.” He took a drink of his iced tea, and Bree couldn’t help staring at his lips as they wrapped around his straw.

  Such nice, full lips. That would feel so good against hers. He was probably an amazing kisser.

  She ripped her gaze away from his mouth and focused on chewing the last bite of garlic bread. Their pizza better be ready soon. She was starving.

  They chatted about his geology class a little until the pizza arrived. Marcus slid two slices of the sausage deluxe onto a plate, then handed it over to her.

  As she took it, his fingers brushed over hers, and a sizzle ran up her arm. Momentarily frozen, she couldn’t seem to pull her hand back. Nor did he.

  Her gaze snapped to his, only to find him looking at her with a faint curl to his lips. His smile deepened, bringing out his sexy dimple and the creases around his dark eyes. Heart thudding against her ribs, she couldn’t look away as the moment stretched out between them. She’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man before Marcus and she didn’t want it to end. She loved the way a simple touch made her skin come alive.

  Dammit, it wasn’t fair. She finally got to meet her longtime celebrity crush and they had clear chemistry, so of course he was off-limits.

  Too soon, Marcus blinked away their connection, pulling his hand back and clearing his throat. “What about you? What are you going to do when you get that PhD? Which, if I haven’t mentioned it, is damn impressive. I can’t even imagine the work that goes into getting a PhD, let alone in physics.”

  His compliment set off an explosion of warmth in her belly. Some days it felt like she didn’t have anyone supporting her or cheering her on. Of course Reina did, and her other physicist friends. But they were all in the same boat, so it wasn’t impressive to them. It made her forget that she was accomplishing something very few people did. She deserved to be proud of that.

  Her family should be the ones telling her they were impressed. They’d seen how hard she’d worked. Instead, they berated her career choice, and it was Marcus, her student who walked the line between acquaintance and friend, and who was definitely her crush, who could recognize what she’d accomplished. It was both exhilarating and sad.

  “Thanks,” she said, almost shyly.

  “So what’s next for you?” He propped his elbows on the table, looking at her over his pizza slice as he took a bite.

  “I want to go into medical physics. Work in imaging, or radiation therapy. And do research. Keep advancing the field. My mom is a nurse in radiation oncology, so that’s how I got interested in it.”

  “So do you look for jobs at hospitals?”

  “Usually universities affiliated with hospitals. I’ve applied for a few postdoctoral jobs that start early next year.” Some days, the idea of more school—a postdoc was often a glorified grad student who got paid more—exhausted Bree. She wanted to be able to really dive into research. Apply for her own funding, direct the specifics of what she studied.

  But that came later. She had to play the game if she wanted the result.

  “That’s exciting. Your parents must be really proud of you.”

  His words landed like a rock on her gut. He had to say that, didn’t he? He probably got along with his parents, didn’t understand how any parent wouldn’t be immensely proud of their child reaching such career heights. She was no NFL player, but she was awesome at physics.

  “Yeah, not so much.” She set down her pizza and picked at a green pepper. Two weeks later, she still couldn’t think about her talk with her dad without getting angry. She hadn’t spoken to him since, the memory making her insides churn.

  Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  She sighed. “They had other plans for their little girl. My dad still tries to find me high school science teaching jobs.”

  Marcus’ expression turned sober. “I feel ya on that.”

  “Really?” How could his parents not be wildly proud of his accomplishments? Then again, how could hers?

  “My dad’s an orthopedic surgeon, my mom’s a neurologist, my oldest sister is an attorney and my other older sister is an oncologist. Sheep don’t get any blacker than an athlete in my family.”

  “Yes!” So excited to have found someone who understood, she dropped her pizza and reached over to grab his wrists. “You get it. We’re at the top of our games, and they’re pretty damn elite games, and it’s not good enough. They can’t just be happy we’re doing what we enjoy and doing it well. My brother Silas actually asked me if I want to work in medicine, why can’t I just be a nurse like a normal girl.”

  “Normal girl?” Marcus’ eyes went wide, his expression the picture of shock. “He used those words?”

  “Silas is the worst of them. He wants to be Ward Cleaver.”

  “That’s bullshit. Nothing wrong with being a nurse, but that’s not you.”

  How was it Marcus could see that after knowing her a month, when the family who’d been there since her birth was oblivious? He squeezed her hands, and she noticed that while she’d been talking, he’d interlaced their fingers. They were holding hands over pizza and she hadn’t even realized it.

  Like this was a date or something.

  She shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t make her arms tingle or set off that heat low in her belly. But it did. And it felt so good she couldn’t make herself let go of him. She wanted his touch. She wanted him.

  “She hasn’t said it yet, but I’m pretty sure my mom expects me to retire from football after the season. Since I’m injured and finishing my degree, she thinks I’m going to get some office job and get my MBA or something. I don’t even know.” His gaze clicked with hers, full of understanding and empathy.

  Something inside Bree’s chest opened and expanded. A connection. He got it.

  He got her.

  Chapter 4

  “I’m all in.” Reina pushed her poker chips to the center of the dining room table with a grin. Her blue eyes twinkled, the way they did when she had a good hand. She had a decent poker face, but Bree knew her well enough to know her subtle tells.

  “You’re bluffing,” Tomás said. He sat back in his chair and took a drink of his beer, his eyes never leaving Reina’s face. Though he’d been in the Midwest for eight years, he still had a subtle Texas drawl. It was never stronger than when he was flirting with Reina over poker.

  “I don’t have to bluff, baby, when I got this hand.” Reina somehow made the words sound like sex.

  “Get a room,” Eric Bentsen said from next to Bree.

  “But at your place,” Bree added, directing her comment at Tomás. Under the best of circumstances, hearing Reina and Tomás having sex—their apartment walls were thin—was annoying. But given that her anxiety was running on a constant low simmer and threatening to jump to a boil, she couldn’t handle lying alone in bed and wishing it was her getting screwed so good. Solo orgasms were nice, but nothing beat the feel of skin on skin.

  Plus, she really loved when a guy went down on her, and she couldn’t replicate that with her hand or a toy. Her last boyfriend had been kind of a douche, but he’d been amazing at oral. She’d probably stayed with him longer than she should have for that reason.

  An image flashed in her mind of a dark head between her legs, smooth brown skin stretched over perfect muscles, a big body sprawled over her mattress.

  Oh no. Nope, not good. She couldn’t fantasize about Marcus. It had been one thing when he was a celebrity crush, but she needed to change her focus to some hot actor. Now that she knew Marcus, now that he was her student and becoming her friend, it was totally unacceptable to imagine having hot, sweaty, dirty, amazing sex with him.

  Eric tapped his cards on the table, always
impatient. “Bree, you in?”

  Bree consulted her hand even though she already knew it was junk. She was good at bluffing, but not against Reina’s all in.

  “Fold.” Bree set down her cards and slid them across the table to Tomás, who was dealer.

  “Me too.” Eric tossed his cards to Tomás. He’d worked as a postdoc in the same lab as Reina long enough to know her tells. Besides the twinkle, she always rubbed the corner of her right eye if she was bluffing. No rub this time.

  Kevin Horton, who’d been a postdoc for the past year in Bree’s lab, made a face, then said, “I’m thinking.”

  He studied the cards on the table, looked at Reina, studied his hand, studied Reina. Where Eric was hurry hurry hurry, Kevin was all careful consideration. Which made the weekly poker night with the two entertaining.

  “Come on!” Eric snapped, right on schedule.

  “I’m thinking.” Kevin frowned at his cards. His ruddy face scrunched up until he resembled an angry leprechaun.

  “And the rest of us are aging.” Eric shoved a hand into his white-blond hair, a sure sign he was ready to lose it. Tall and broad with skin so pale it was nearly translucent, he looked every bit as Norwegian as the name Eric Bentsen suggested.

  Unable to handle Eric’s tension, Bree pushed back from the chair and headed for the kitchen. She got a beer from the fridge and snagged the bag of Doritos from the counter, waiting until she heard Reina’s whoop of excitement before returning to the table.

  Reina was scooping her winnings toward herself with a grin on her face.

  “Rent’s on you this month,” Bree teased.

  “No way, man,” Reina said. “This is for Disney.” She and Tomás were going to Disney World for their one-year anniversary in October.

  For more than two years, the group had been doing a regular Friday night poker game. It was because of the game that Reina and Tomás had gotten together. As excited as Bree was to finish her dissertation, she was going to miss their ritual. She loved her little group of friends.