by H. J. Bellus
“They’ve known him a bit longer than you and are on the team with him. They’re genuinely concerned for you.”
“Tell them not to be.”
Sophie slaps me hard across the face with another lock of wet hair, leaving behind a stinging trail on my cheek.
“He sounds dangerous, Blue.”
“Well, I’m saying don’t worry because he has no interest in me at all. Period. End of story. Don’t want to talk about it again.”
Chapter 7
Routine. It’s the vitamin that keeps my blood pumping through my veins. It’s taken two weeks to get a routine down pat, and I can say I’m finally over the homesick stage. Cheer practice, lunch, more workout, a yoga class, and then more cheer practice. Learning all new dances and cheers has been difficult, and not because of my skill level, but learning to work with new teammates. Stephie has been true to her word and kept her distance. She and Ethan made up days after their dramatic break-up, and I couldn’t be more thankful because he treats me like a flesh-eating disease. I love it.
Sophie still enters the dorm room late at night sated and with rubbery legs from Lane’s rabid love-making skills, and she sure as shit still tries to give me blow-by-blow action. I always act disgusted, but deep down I’m jealous, and pretend it’s Tuck doing those things to me.
Ah…Tuck. Unfortunately for my heart, but fortunately for my lady parts, he also became part of my routine, and I tingle every night when his scent joins me. Damn, I really make that sound hot and sexy, when in reality it’s only hot. He finds me each night on the jogging trail when I’m sweating and hot as hell as I push my body harder and faster. I’ve never spooked and performed gymnastics for him since the first night. When he catches up to me or I catch up to him, we find a steady pace and finish our workouts together.
Some nights he picks the paths, and some nights I do, and it all happens with no words. It’s just the sound of his pounding feet and the scent I have, and trust me, I soak it all in each night and then memorize it as I fall asleep.
I refuse to be the first to talk to him. He knows I want to be friends, and I clearly know he has the ability to pop a boner for me, so yeah, I’m pretty sure the ball is in his court. It may be a deflated ball with no hope, but it’s still in his court. And I hate to admit it’s my favorite part of the day. Even when my muscles are pushed to the edge of ripping, I go running just to see and smell Tuck. And when I say see, all I see is a dark hoodie or long sleeve shirt with a beanie on his head and long gym shorts.
I want more of him. I yearn to see more of his gorgeous skin, and every single time we run underneath a light I take the chance to study his beautiful face. Most of the time he’s doing the same to me, and I know I get to him whenever I see his strong jaw flex.
Tonight is one of the biggest mixers before school starts. All the athletes will be in attendance along with their coaches, so it’s not going to be a rager or anything. But leave it up to Sophie and Lane to have the hook-up on the after party. My body lies limp on the bed, exhausted and with no motivation to go to this mixer.
Sophie tosses dress after dress out of her closet. Some she holds up to her body and checks the view in the full size mirror, and others are an automatic no. She stands in a matching bra and undies, and I know it’s only a matter of hours before those babies get shredded.
She’s left with an empty closet and a mound of clothes behind her, and some that landed around me on my bed.
“Well, shit. I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why didn’t I schedule in a shopping trip this week?”
“Probably because you were too busy fucking Lane from one end of the campus to the other.” I don’t look up as I mindlessly scroll through my Facebook wall on my iPhone. It’s filled with old high school classmates and their selfies and bragging posts. It’s like my crack; it makes me sick, but I can’t seem to look away.
I spot a hot pink sun dress at the bottom of my bed and hook it with my big toe. I try to fling it over to Sophie, but it lands right on my face, and I giggle. Sophie is so distracted now, digging through her mole pile of clothes, that I re-adjust the dress on my toe and send it flying. This time it lands right on the top of her head.
“This one was my favorite. Pair it with your silver flats and pull up your hair.” I lie about the dress since I wasn’t paying attention. The simple fact is that Sophie would look drop dead gorgeous in a gunnysack, and Lane would fuck her right out of it.
“Thanks, Blue.” She bounds from the floor and begins getting ready.
Every once in a while I look up from my phone and admire the transformation Sophie is going through. I adjust the pillows under my head into a more comfortable position, cross my legs, and go back to Internet stalking. I’ve typed in Tuck’s name over and over and even stalked friends we might have in common…and nothing. Which is really not that surprising since he’s so damn private.
Our door bursts open and Lane grins over at his princess, who is now fully dressed and just finishing her make-up. I’ve come to terms with the fact we have an open door policy and don’t lounge in my panties and camisoles like I would at home. Nope, it’s always fully clothed here.
“Hi, Prince Charming.” I throw my phone to my side and smile at Lane. All in all, he’s turned out to be a great guy for my homefry.
He plops down on Sophie’s bed and tosses me a bag of candy. And he’s also discovered my vice…candy, anything sweet and sour. He also knows Sophie is never ready to bounce out the door unless it’s a late night booty call.
“Damn, Sophie, you look so fucking hot.” He sends her a wink, and she giggles. Their actions are actually genuine and super cute, but I’ll never let up on my front of gagging or rolling my eyes.
“Sit up.” Sophie stands at the bottom of my bed armed with a brush and some other hair items.
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Sit up, I’m going to do your hair.” She throws the hair products on the bed. “You have the prettiest hair here and only keep it pulled up in a messy bun.”
“You do have gorgeous hair,” Lane adds around a mouthful of taffy, and then quickly remedies his comment to make mine second best to Sophie’s. I just giggle and sit up and let her have her way with me. I can smell styling products, heat from the curling iron, and Sophie’s perfume.
“What are you reading now?” Lane asks.
“Facebook. I haven’t started a new book.”
“You mean a new porno?”
I toss a wrapper in his direction.
“You know, Blue, YouTube has all sorts of good free porn,” Lane says through his laughter. Well, his laughter cuts off when he gets a sharp look from Sophie. “Baby, it’s research. I learn new moves.”
She shrugs and then blows him a kiss, and I promptly make a gagging noise.
“I read romance stories. They are not porn. It’s more like fairytales.”
“Okay, done. Look in the mirror.”
I stand from the bed and have to give it to Sophie. She has my hair spot-on perfect. Loose curls lay all over with my long bangs pinned off to the side and some slight volume on the top. My curls are even soft enough to run my fingers through.
A tiny grin covers my face and I shrug. “It’s okay.”
“Shut up. Pick a dress.” She points to the mounds and mounds of clothes on the ground.
“I’m wearing this.” I point to my shorty shorts and lacy tank top.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not. I’m done hanging out with a perma-athlete who never dresses up. Pick a dress, bitch.”
Lane always gets uncomfortable when we throw naughty words at each other.
“Okay, I’ll wait out there with Noah.” He points toward the lounge.
“We’ve brought a date along for you. Now wear something nice.”
“You what?” I yelp.
There’s nothing quiet or nice about what just came out of my mouth.
“A date.”
“No.”
“He’s not Ethan. Trust me. He’s one of Lane’s teammates. He is very polite, quiet, and a good catch.”
“You’re a bitch and totally just broke the fucking friend code. I’m wearing this, end of fucking story.”
I toss on my plainest pair of flip-flops and follow her out the door. The two men stand up, and I can’t deny the man-candy they dragged along for me is fucking hot. His tan biceps bulge from his team t-shirt, and his sandy brown hair is long and shaggy, hanging in his eyes, but there’s just enough of the blue shining through to make my heart pitter a bit.
Sophie makes introductions, and he’s kind enough to extend a hand, so I react and shake it. Sophie makes an awing noise, and then I remember how many forks I want to stab in her eyeballs right now.
“I’ll be right back. I forgot my purse.”
Sophie gives me a sideways stare, fully knowing I’m a pocket girl. I’m going to show that twat-waffle just how much I appreciate being surprise-attacked via a gorgeous muscle man. Racing back into the room, I throw my hair up into a ponytail, erasing all of Sophie’s styling, and then notice my Aztec print balloon style pants crumpled in a corner and decide to throw those bad boys on as well. Now looking back into the mirror, my normal high pony stares back at me with my short tank top and crazy ass pants. A hint of my skin shines through above the hem of my hammer-time pants, and I feel the desire to hike the bad boys up Urkel style, but giggle and decide against it.
Sophie hates these pants, and they just happen to be one of my favorite pairs. I’ve always been known to have a different sense when it comes to style. Yep, I’m usually a month or two ahead of the current trends, so I’m used to others harassing me about my hideous choices.
“Blue, let’s go,” Sophie hollers from the lobby in a spine-chilling cheer voice that I’m pretty sure floors four through seven heard as well.
I don’t waste another moment and bustle out of the room. I stare right at her and silently give her the “paybacks suck, you bitch” stare.
“All right, let’s go.”
We all make our way to the elevator, and it’s not until we are out in the sunshine of the parking lot that Noah speaks up.
“Your purse. You went back for you purse and you don’t have it.”
His concern is quite swoony, and, well, downright panty melting. I’ll give it to Sophie; he is nothing like Ethan at all.
I wave him off with a sly little grin. “Oh, it’s fine.”
As we all climb in Lane’s friggin’ monster truck, Sophie just has to pipe up.
“Quite the magician, purse to hobo outfit change.”
I didn’t miss the snark lacing Sophie’s voice. I just shrug back at her. Lane picks up on the uncomfortable mood and takes over the conversation. I’m thankful he doesn’t require me to be an active participant as he goes on about football practice and how hot the defense is this year.
Noah, like the perfect gentleman, takes a seat behind Lane on the driver’s side, as I’m on the other side, behind the empty passenger seat. Sophie is nearly dry humping Lane as he drives. I glance over at Noah and am relieved that he’s immersed in Lane’s conversation. I take him in from head to toe and realize he’s a freakin’ god with a perfect face and the most beautiful body. Only his strong biceps are visible, but I can imagine what’s under the rest of his clothes. Maybe, just maybe, he might be my perfect escape from my lust for Tuck, or at least curb my desires for the mystery man.
“So, Noah, you play football?” My fingernails dig into the skin of my palms, regretting such a lame conversation starter.
“Yeah, junior year, quarterback.” He shifts politely in his seat to make eye contact.
And if I were any normal girl, with his baby blue eyes, sandy curls, and deep voice, my panties should’ve spontaneously combusted. Hell, adding quarterback to the mix, I should’ve been on fire with hot lust and using some of Sophie’s quick-to-fuck moves. But nope, I just smile, admire his looks, and appreciate all the hard work he’s no doubt put in to be the quarterback for the University in which football is everything.
“Wow, quarterback. That’s huge. Congrats.” My butt slides a bit over on the navy blue leather seat, closing our distance.
“Yeah, Momma swears I came out holding a football.” He flashes his pearly whites at me.
I just picked up on his thick Southern accent. How in the hell I missed that before is beyond me. I think it was because I was trying to convince my panties to light on fire for this Adonis. Sophie sends me a quick little wink over her shoulder, not interrupting our conversation.
“That’s funny. My dad swears my mom went to a hypnotist and ate pom-poms while she was carrying me.” My hand lands on his thick thigh as we enjoy a moment of laughter, and I expect to feel a zing or at least a tingle. I’m no prude and know the excitement that courses through your body when new love or even lust is in the air, but nothing, zero, zilch.
Sophie takes a moment to interrupt our conversation and fills Noah in on my basketball scholarship and those talents, and how she swears I can run like a gazelle.
“Well, with legs like those, I’d pegged you for a b-ball kind of girl.”
I feel a blush cover my cheeks, and it’s not from his compliment, but from my asshole move and covering them up. This time his hand lands on my leg, and I don’t flinch. We carry on in conversation about our upbringings and high school days filled with nothing but one athletic venture after another. We even compare notes on high school practices compared to the University level. And I’m not quite sure when it happened, but I slide all the way over to him, now sitting in the middle of the back row. Shoulder to shoulder, we both have our iPhones out, sharing pictures of our homes, parents, siblings…well, siblings in his case.
“Why the name Blue?” Noah asks randomly.
I shrug; I’m used to being assaulted with this question all the time. “Well, you’ve probably picked up that my mom is a freak. Actually, beyond freak, probably more along the lines of an OCD gorilla. She knew I’d be an only child because of complications.” I twist my lips awkwardly, not really wanting to go into the history of my mother’s ovaries with Noah. “Anyway, I’d be an only child, and she’s always been determined to have me shine and stick out from the crowd.”
“That’s cool,” he replies.
I usually get the look of shallow disgust from people when I tell that story. In all honesty, I generally avoid the question, but Noah is easy to talk to and I can tell he’s really down to earth.
The truck comes to a halt and I realize we talked non-stop to our destination. An apology or four may be called for. It was fun having someone to talk to in a civilized fashion. Tuck treats me like a vile weed, Sophie and Lane are always humping like rabbits, and Ethan…well, Ethan is just rabid.
Noah slides out of the truck, and I glide back over the smooth leather to my side.
“Here.”
I look down to Noah standing on the black asphalt in his loose jeans and tight team t-shirt, smiling with his hand held out and gesturing to me. A smile instantly shines from me just like a giddy little eighth grader. Damn, these pants sure do make it easy to slide back and forth on this leather…always looking for the silver lining. I place my hand in his and let him guide me from the truck.
And yes, I glide out just like a princess in a modern day fairytale down into the arms of a knight in shining armor who melts panties in his kingdom. Or at least that’s how I picture it.
My damn pants catch on a piece of the door, sending me sailing down toward the not-so-cottony-soft asphalt. It’s kind of like when you see a snake or bear in the wild and you piss yourself and run. Yeah, I literally tinkle a bit before crashing into the surface and clenching my eyes shut. I let all common sense float up to the clouds.
As I wait to land face down, two arms wrap around me, and I squeal and pee a little more from being startled.
“Easy there, tiger.”
I look up to Noah’s dazzling smile and know this is the
moment any other girl would wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down into her, thanking him with a kiss and savoring his taste on her tongue. Me, nope, just damp panties from a slight tinkle or two.
Fuck you, fuck you, no, I really mean fuck you, Tuck. Fuck you for ruining me and whatever curse you’ve bestowed upon me.
“Thank you,” I ramble out with a clear shake in my voice.
Noah places me on my feet, and like a true gentleman, holds me to his side for a couple seconds until I get my legs underneath me. I’m nestled into his side when I finally pick up on his scent, and let me tell you, it’s grade-A delicious. All sorts of masculine musky aroma wafts from him, and I should be wanting to lick the man from head to toe, but I don’t.
“All right, I think I’m good to go now,” I say, sending him a quick smile. “Thanks for saving my face from becoming hamburger.”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that to happen, now, would we?” He gives me one final squeeze before he lets go. “And thank god you changed into those pants to protect to those pretty legs.”
Ah, shucks, and he is sweet to boot. My feet are under me, senses clear, and when I glance up to see where everyone is walking, I stare into Tuck’s eyes. And from the look of his locked jaw and very pissed off expression, I think he saw the whole scene play out. But then again, he looks pissed most of the time, so maybe he couldn’t care less.
The little devil perched on my right shoulder screams for me cuddle right back into Noah’s side and even place a thank you peck on his clean-shaven cheek. But in the end it’s just not me to play a guy, especially not one as nice as Noah.
I break eye contact with the incredibly sexy asshole and begin mentally comparing the two men. Noah, a god, deep southern accent, quarterback, clean-shaven, all-American, Abercrombie and Finch type shit. Then Tuck, dark, mysterious, bold, built like a brick shithouse, there’s no finesse or grace to the man, brown hair, stubble, and melts my panties and pisses me off more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life.
It’s as if Tuck put me in a coma as we enter the large hall adorned in crimson, silver, and white. School colors paint everything in the room, and school spirit rings loudly, and all I can do is scan the crowd for Tuck. I’m sure he’s slunk off to some dark corner and the rest of his team will soon crowd around him. I just don’t get it.
