by Natalie Rios
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.”
I have nothing to say to that. Because I do kind of like it.
Crap.
11
Theo
Me: Things you should never, ever say on a first date. Go!
Allie: Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I think I love you.
Me: So...they’re real?
Allie: Brb. I just have to check in with my parole officer real quick.
Me: Do you spit or swallow?
Allie: Wanna go to a strip club?
Me: ...
Allie: ;-)
Me: That wasn’t a date!
Allie: I should hope not. If that’s how you treat your dates, you would still be a virgin by now.
Me: I don’t need to take women on dates to get laid.
Allie: ...
Me: There’s no need for dinner when we can just skip right to dessert ;-)
Allie: No, but you probably need to take a trip to the nearest STD clinic after. And while you’re there, make sure to ask if they have a punch card for repeat customers.
Me: I don’t have an STD. Just because I like sex doesn’t mean I’m dirty.
Allie: But you DO have an STD. The clap. I gave it to you, remember? LOL
Me: And you say I’m the impossible one?
Allie: I told you, ballbusting is kind of my thing.
Me: So...I have a favor to ask.
Allie: ?
Me: I’m not going to make it to class tomorrow. We have a game at Florida State on Friday and we just got into Tallahassee a few minutes ago. Can I borrow your notes when I get back?
Allie: Of course.
Allie: You didn’t tell me you had a game this weekend.
Me: Why, Perez! I didn’t know you cared.
Allie: Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just saying we spent like the entire week at the library together and you didn’t say a word.
Me: See, I’m growing on you.
Allie: Yeah. Like a rash.
Me: I’ll make sure to grab you some ointment on my way home.
Me: I have a game pretty much every weekend in the fall, btw.
Allie: Sounds stressful. When do you have time to go out? Party? See friends?
Me: Not until spring and summer. But the guys on the team are tight, so technically I see my friends all the time.
Allie: Wait a minute. You gave me crap for not going out when you barely go out yourself????
“YO, T. YOU COMING?”
“Yo, T. You coming?”
I look up from my phone’s screen to find Levi standing by the door of our hotel room. Wearing a plain white button-down shirt and jeans, it’s clear he’s about to meet up with the rest of the guys for a night on the town.
“Nah, you guys go ahead. I’m staying in tonight,” I say.
Levi cocks a brow at me. “Again? What’s with you lately? You never stay in.”
“Just don’t feel like going out,” I shrug, returning my attention to my phone.
“Who are you texting?”
“No one.” My answer is quick, too quick if Levi’s knowing grin is any indication.
“Let me guess. Allie.” I remain silent. “Dude, what’s with this chick? You two dating or something?”
“No! Look, I’m staying in to write a paper later, okay?”
“On a Thursday night? Before a game? Suuuuure.” Levi shakes his head as he reaches for the door. “Enjoy your night with your phone and your right hand.”
“Fuck you,” I say without any malice. Levi laughs, shutting the door behind him. Alone at last.
Is it weird that I miss her? Probably. I mean, we’re not exactly friends. But I like her. I really like talking to her, listening to her give me a hard time.
Fuck it.
I FaceTime Allie.
“Your fingers too tired to type now?” she says by way of greeting.
“Maybe I just wanted to see your beautiful face.”
She rolls her eyes. “Save the lines, Montgomery.”
“It’s not a line.”
“Sure,” she snorts. It frustrates the shit out of me that she doesn’t believe me.
“Other women seem to enjoy it when I pay them a compliment.”
“I’m not other women.” No, she most certainly is not. Because other women don’t entertain me even half as much as Allie does. “So what’s up?”
“Checking in for the evening,” I reply.
“It’s like 7:30...on a Thursday. You’re not going out?”
“Nope. And if your outfit is anything to go by, neither are you.”
Allie gestures to her faded Carlton sweatshirt. “Clearly. Unless the bag lady look is in now.”
“You don’t look like a bag lady. Not without the shopping cart, anyway.”
She flips me off, but her eyes are bright and she’s smiling while she does it. What I want to tell her is that she looks pretty, so effortlessly sexy without a stitch of makeup on. Her sweatshirt’s a couple of sizes too big so that one shoulder keeps slipping down to expose a circle of golden skin. A few strands of hair have escaped her tight ponytail and brush against the straight long column of her neck. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to kiss the skin there. Wonder how she would react to my touch.
I shake that thought away. “So you’re not working tonight?”
“Nope.”
“How about tomorrow?”
Her eyes narrow. “Yes, tomorrow. Why? You planning on coming back to finish your Cravin’ Raven?”
“No. Fuck no. Just making conversation.” I have to remember to text my frat brother Rodney later.
“Are you going to give me shit for not going out during my free time?”
“No.”
She arches a brow. “No?”
“Nope.” Allie’s getting a check from me regardless of how the rest of the month goes. Hell, I’ll double the amount if it will get her to quit working at a fucking strip club.
“Are you staying in to study those football diagram thingies?”
“Football diagram...thingies?” I can’t help laughing.
Her face flushes. “Yeah, you know. Those pictures I see on TV. For plays and stuff.”
“Do you know anything about football?”
“I know you play quarterback.”
“And what exactly do you think a quarterback does?”
“They throw the ball. To the…” She falters a bit, making a cradling motion with her arms. Oh, dear God. “Catcher?”
I have to bite down on my lip so I don’t laugh. “Receiver.”
Her nose wrinkles and her cheeks take on this cute shade of pink, but she nods. “To the receiver. Who then runs with it to the…” She holds up her arms, forming a wide Y-shape with her torso.
“The end zone,” I supply, pressing a fist against my mouth. God, she’s cute. “That’s, ah, quite the assessment, Perez.”
“Fact: everything I know about football, I learned from watching Friday Night Lights.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a show about this small town in Texas that’s obsessed with high school football. It’s got everything: drama, football, hot people, the feels. It’s one of my favorite shows.”
“Sold. Is it on Netflix?” Reaching for the remote, I turn on the TV.
“It should be. That’s where I watched it.”
“I’m shocked one of your favorite shows includes football.”
“Football is a very small part of the show. It’s mostly about the characters and all the stuff they go through. All of the actors are ridiculously hot-”
“Ah, the real reason you watch,” I tease. “Which character is your favorite?”
“Matt Saracen.” She’s beaming now, those brown eyes twinkling with excitement. “He’s QB2, then becomes QB1 completely by accident. The town doesn’t believe he has what it takes to win at first, because he’s so scrawny. But he works hard and builds up his confidence to eventually win everyone over.”
“Hey, that’s basically my story.”
She blinks at me. “Really?”
“Yeah.” My mouth stretches into a broad smile. “I was scrawny freshman year. So scrawny, I was the third string quarterback. Then two of our quarterbacks got injured and I finally got to play. We did okay that season, not great, but okay. Coach sat me down at the end of the year and said unless I showed him something different, he was going to switch off between me and Schmidt the next season. My reaction was, of course, fuck that.”
“Fuck that!” Allie repeats. Her expression is rapt, eyes wide and a small smile curling along her lips. Like she can’t wait to hear what happens next.
“So I worked my ass off over the summer, hit the gym every single day. Kept increasing velocity, adding yardage. When I wasn’t working out, I was studying the playbook or film. By the time I stepped on the field my sophomore year, I had put on almost twenty pounds of muscle and I knew the playbook like the back of my hand. Still, people were skeptical. Even Coach. At 6’5, I’m a little tall for a quarterback. Big guys tend to be slow on their feet. But I threw four touchdowns without a single fumble or interception that first game. I’ve been the starter ever since.”
“Huh.” For a moment, just a moment, she looks directly at me and it’s like she’s seeing me for the first time. Assessing me in a way that has my body buzzing. Without a drop of liquor in my system, I feel drunk. Like I'm high on her. It’s a feeling I can easily grow addicted to. But then she blinks, ending the moment, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking her to look at me that way again.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” I say, breaking us out of this awkward silence, “this show doesn’t give a shit about accuracy. No way this Riggins kid would have survived a practice session under the hot Texas sun while hungover.”
“Wait, are you watching it right now?”
“Yeah. Hell, Coach would never let me play if he smelled alcohol on my breath. And somebody needs to punch this Smash guy in the face. He’s way too fucking cocky.”
She snorts. “Remind you of anyone?”
“I was a Heisman finalist last year. And a unanimous All-American both sophomore and junior year. He’s just in high school. What year are these guys in anyway?”
A grin splits across my face when I hear the show starting up on her end. “I think he’s a junior in season one. I don’t know, it gets kind of confusing in the later seasons.”
“Okay, I can’t believe you would ever compare me to Smash. He’s talking about himself in the third person! The third person! Who does that shit?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s a level of obnoxious you haven’t reached yet.”
“If anyone should be cocky, it’s Jason Street. But there he is, blander than any square of tofu I’ve ever had.”
“Tofu’s not bland. It’s all in the seasoning.”
“Good point, little vegan. Comparing him to tofu is insulting…to the tofu.”
Allie snickers. “Wait until he tackles someone during the game.”
“A quarterback, tackling? I can now officially say this show has no basis in truth. None. At all. Do you hear me, Perez? Faker than a porn star’s tit. No wonder you don’t know anything about football.”
“You don’t understand. He wasn’t supposed to tackle that guy and because he doesn’t know how, he-”
“No spoilers, you spoiler!”
“Sorry, sorry! I don’t know what part you’re up to.” I tell her what time to fast-forward to.
And that’s how we watch the rest of the episode. We turn off FaceTime since both of our rooms are too dark to see anything anyway, but we keep the audio for running commentary, especially when the tackle finally happens.
“Now the tackle makes sense,” I muse.
“I thought you said quarterbacks don’t tackle? A quarterback, tackling?” she mimics. “This show is faker than a silicone boob. Do you hear me, Allie? I said silicone!”
“Not bad,” I acknowledge, because holy shit, Allie does a spot on impression of me. “And usually the quarterback doesn’t tackle. But if you throw an interception and you’re the only one open, you better make that tackle. I haven’t had to do it too often because, you know, I don’t throw interceptions-”
“Such a huge ego,” she singsongs.
“Who sings that? Wait. Never mind, I just looked it up. Beyoncé. Seriously? First a Britney song, now Beyoncé? Hanging out with you is like karaoke on ladies night.”
“Um, karaoke on ladies night is amazing.”
I mock gasp. “Allie Perez, did you just call me amazing?”
“Wait – what? No! You’re putting words in my mouth!”
“Whatever you say, Allie Cat.”
“Allie Cat?”
“Because you’re feisty.” She groans. “It’s a compliment.”
“Whatever. So you go for the tackle.” She didn’t object to the nickname so it’s kind of a win for me. “What happens if you get injured?”
“That’s what backups are for.”
“What if it’s a career-ending injury?”
“That’s what backups are for,” I repeat. “Backup quarterbacks for the team, backup plans for the player.” I don’t want to think about the possibility of getting injured and losing everything. It’s entirely too real...too possible for my liking. Take away football and what do I have left? A fat load of nothing. The girls, most of my so-called friends…They’d all be gone in a heartbeat if I couldn’t play anymore. Yeah, best not to dwell on that. “So...next episode?”
There’s a long pause. “Sure, why not?”
Me: Are you watching the game?
Allie: New phone, who dis?
Me: Very funny, except we spent the entire night Netflix and chilling so...
Allie: I don’t think that means what you think it means.
Me: ?
Allie: Netflix and chill is code for a booty call.
Me: No, it’s not.
Allie: Um, yeah it is. Google it.
Me: Holy shit, you’re right!
Allie: I always am.
Me: Who’s got the ego now?
Allie: We’ve been spending way too much time together. You’re starting to rub off on me.
Me: I can rub on you in a completely different way when I get home ;-)
Allie: But can you vibrate at variable speeds and intensities for hours at a time?
Me: If you think I’m intimidated by your battery operated boyfriend, you’re mistaken. He’s more than welcome to join us. Ménage is your thing, right?
Allie: Impossible, I tell you.
Me: You started it.
Allie: Clear eyes, full hearts...
It takes me a second to realize it’s a line from the show. I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s her way of wishing me luck. Grinning, I finish the line.
Me: Can’t lose.
I’m half asleep on the bus ride home from the airport when my phone vibrates. Allie. Just seeing the name brings a smile to my face.
This is the first time she’s called me.
“Hel-”
“There’s a guy named Rodney here who says he’s driving me to work,” she interrupts, sounding completely pissed.
Shit. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. My frat brother Rodney is an Uber driver and he’s going to be driving you to and from work from now on.”
“And why would he do that?”
“Because I asked him to.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want you taking the bus at night, especially to a fucking strip club.”
“Uh, T?” Fuck. It’s Levi. He’s in the seat next to me, wide awake and eavesdropping.
“Shh!” I hiss. “I’m on the phone.”
“Who is that? Oh my God! Did you tell anyone else where I work?”
“No!” I glare daggers at Levi, who is still watching with avid interest. Asshole. “I didn’t tell anyone, not even Rodney. He thinks he’s taking you to the gas station
across the street.”
“Oh.” She blows out a breath and I can feel her anger deflating over the phone
“Look, it’s not safe for you to take the bus late at night. I would drive you myself, but I have away games every other week. And 5am workouts every day,” I add. “Rodney’s a cool guy and he owes me a favor.”
“I really don’t have to pay?”
“Not a single cent,” I promise.
“And I don’t owe you anything?”
“Just a kiss when I win our bet.” She snorts at that. “No, seriously. Consider it a favor.”
“Thank you.”
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
“So...I guess this means we’re friends now?” And I’m full on grinning like a fool now. I’ve officially been upgraded from the Fuck Off Zone to the Friend Zone. Progress.
“We’ve been friends since we Netflix and chilled over the phone.”
“We’ve been over this. That’s not what that phrase means.”
“Anytime you want to make it a real Netflix and chill by adding phone sex, I’m game.”
She’s quiet and I worry I’ve pushed things a smidgen too far. We make sexual jokes all the time, but is doing so now that we’re friends crossing a line?
“How does that work, exactly?” she asks. “I tell you what I’m wearing and then we both rub one out over the phone?”
Fuck yes. “I tell you where to touch yourself and you do it. Then you tell me what you think about when you come.”
“And what do you think about when you come?”
I close my eyes and picture Allie in her tiny black shorts, wearing a matching pair of black heels that make those long legs look endless. Imagine my hands roaming over the soft curve of her hip, her skin feeling smooth and soft against my fingertips. The ever-present blush along her cheeks spreading down her neck and chest.
My cock jumps in my pants.
Shit. This conversation is very quickly careening out of control.
“Theo?” Her voice is low and breathy and I wonder if she can sense what I’m thinking. “You still there? I was only joking. I’m sorry if I made things weird.”
She was joking? The reckless part of me, the one who wants to throw caution to the wind, is disappointed. I don’t want her to be joking, I want her to be flirting. I want her to be as affected by me as I am by her. But the logical part of me realizes this is for the best. Keep the vibe teasing instead of flirting dangerously close to phone sex.
