[Love in the End Zone 01.0] Out of Bounds

by Jillian Quinn

  Bash gives my hand a quick squeeze that makes my heart race. How am I supposed to make it through this exam with him touching me? Our professor announces the test is about to begin, and Bash sets off down the aisle to hand in the attendance sheet.

  All eyes are on me as he struts away from me, broad-shouldered and graceful in a pair of jeans that hang low from his waist and a black fitted Strickland Senators T-shirt. I hear a few girls whisper his name, their jealous stares aimed in my direction.

  The first few days will be the hardest. I have to try my best not to crumple under the pressure of being Bash’s girlfriend. We will be the talk of the campus in no time. That part worries me. Last time, the rumors were so bad I almost left Strickland University.

  On his way back down the aisle, he grins at me. Bash slides into the chair and moves the table in front of him, preparing for the test. The classroom erupts into chatter and dies down when the professor taps the microphone. I spend the remainder of class with my fingers threaded between Bash’s, all while scribbling down the answers to the questions.

  Midway through class, I finish the test and so does Bash, who sees this as an opportunity to slide his hand between my legs, feeling me over my jean skirt. This is fucking torture.

  I flash a warning glance in his direction. “Bash, stop it,” I whisper so low that I wonder if he can hear me.

  “I’m not doing anything. Just keeping my hand warm,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smirk.

  His hand travels up to the hem of my skirt, lingering there for a second. I’m wet for him. But as much as I want this, I do not want to draw unwanted attention. I glance over at him, wishing he’d move his hand but too weak to make him. Bash just loves to torture me. And he does an excellent job. Pretending he doesn’t have this effect on me, I focus on my test and hope the answers I jot down are correct. I have to ace all of my classes to maintain a high enough GPA to keep my scholarship.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bash grinning like an idiot. I want to kill him, or maybe even kiss him. At this point, I’d say kiss, but damn him for making me this wet in the middle of a crowded room.

  When class ends, we hand in our tests and rush out the door. Propelled by the energy flowing through my body, I drag Bash toward the SAC. I keep my mouth shut until we get out of earshot from onlookers, who are no doubt already starting up the rumor mill.

  “I’m going to murder you!” I yell, garnering a few stares from people passing by us on the street, which forces me to walk faster and with more of a purpose. “What was that all about?”

  Pushing past the groups of students making their way to class, Bash reaches for my hand. As he laces his fingers between mine, I fight the urge to scold him further. But I like touching him too much to deprive myself of his warmth.

  “Stop freaking out. I wanted to touch you. So I did.” He leans over me and says, “And if I had my way, I would have shoved my fingers inside your tight pussy and made you come for me.”

  “Bash,” I say, unable to finish my sentence. “Keep talking like that, and we won’t make it to breakfast.”

  “I’d be more than okay with that.” He winks.

  “While that is tempting, I think we should get something to eat and try to make it through the day without any more incidents,” I say with an evil grin.

  He knows I’m joking, but I am dead serious about him doing shit like that in the middle of class. No matter how good it had felt, I cannot run the risk of getting caught. Unlike Bash and his cronies, I need this scholarship. I don’t have a rich daddy to bail me out if I get in trouble.

  Once we reach the SAC, he opens the door for me. Our eyes meet, and he sucks in a deep breath, neither one of us pulling away from the other. He was planning to finger me in class. We were holding hands in the middle of campus. What the hell is happening? The looks I got from girls on our way here could have set me on fire. I wish someone would pinch me again because I need another reminder that this is real.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.” It sounds more like a demand than a request.

  “Okay,” I mumble. “Are we eating at my place again or going somewhere fancy?”

  Bash leads me by the hand through the front doors of the SAC. The bustling hub of our campus buzzes with energy, a steady stream of voices echoing off the high ceiling.

  “I was thinking somewhere nice. Do you have any dresses you could wear? It’s pretty formal. My dad called in a favor for me. This restaurant has a three-week waiting list, and we have reservations tonight.”

  My brain races with so many thoughts, my emotions overwhelming me. “Yeah, I think I have a dress from last year in my closet. If not, I can borrow one from Jessica. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I can have one sent over to you.” He says this as though this is a normal thing to say to a girl when asking them out on a date.

  Growing up in a middle-class neighborhood with a father who worked at a steel mill, I never had the kind of luxuries Bash is accustomed. Accepting a hand out from Bash seems wrong.

  “That’s not necessary, Bash.” I smile so wide my jaw hurts. “I appreciate the gesture, but a dress is a bit much for our first date.”

  “It’s not our first date,” he reminds me. “More like our hundredth date.”

  Bash lets go of my hand and walk up the stairs, a wry smile on his gorgeous face. I follow behind him.

  “You might want to double check,” he says, once we reach the top landing. “Just in case. I don’t mind doing these things for you. I want the night to be perfect.”

  I don’t even know how to respond, so I don’t.

  Bash stops at the entrance of the cafeteria. His nose tips up to the ceiling, taking in the delicious scents wafting through the air. “I’m starving. What do you want?”

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  “No more chicken fingers,” he kids.

  “I doubt they have them for breakfast anyway,” I shoot back with a smile.

  I spot Jessica flagging me down from the left corner of the room with her hand raised in the air that I acknowledge with a wave.

  Bash taps me on the shoulder. “What do you want to eat? I’ll get it for you.”

  “How about eggs and toast? Maybe some apple juice. Don’t forget the butter and grape jelly.”

  “Coming right up,” he says, guiding me in the direction of our friends.

  Then, we separate, both of us headed in opposite directions.

  Finch and a few of the guys on Bash’s team are flirting with girls I’ve never seen before. Judging by the pins they are wearing on their shirts, I assume they are sorority sisters. I sit across from Jessica and Clay, between Finch and some guy I don’t know.

  The people at the end of the table stop talking, and I feel the urge to run and hide. The awkward silence, even though it’s brief, will become the new thing when I walk into a room. That’s how it was for a while after I first dated Bash. This time will be no different.

  I wave to the pretty blondes next to Jessica. They both look me over as if deciding whether it’s okay to speak to me. Once Bash sets a tray between us to share, the girl's faces light up. They ignore me, as expected, their eyes trained on Bash and every move he makes. Always the center of attention, Bash doesn’t seem to notice. He must be used to all the attention by now, while I am still trying to get used to being in the spotlight again. I just hope I don’t get burned.

  Bash scoots his chair so that our thighs are touching, and everyone stares at us. I wish they would all just fuck off and get a life. Why does Bash have to be so popular? If he were some nerdy, middle-class boy, things would be different. But he’s not.

  Bash sets a plate of eggs and toast in front of me and hands me a fork. His smile must be contagious because I can’t stop myself once the corners of my mouth curl up.

  “Eat,” he says under his breath, “you will need all the strength you can get for later.” And the sexy smirk he wears like a badge of honor returns to his handsome face.
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  My body betrays me, my nipples hardening from one glance in my direction. Needing a distraction, I dig into the eggs. Our paths cross when I reach for the jam, nudging the other one out of the way. Bash hands me the package, and we laugh between bites.

  “Oh, how cute. I see you’re still doing your charity work, Bash. It’s time to kick the trash to the curb.” I look up to see Harper’s mouth twisted in disgust. She pushes her hands onto her hips, swinging her hair away from her face. “You’re in my seat,” she hisses, her eyes cutting through me like daggers.

  I drop my fork onto the plate, my lip curled in anger and quivering. “No, I’m where I am supposed to be.”

  Bash grabs my wrist, his touch keeping me grounded, as I clamp down on the edge of the table. Girls like Harper are the reason our relationship didn’t work last time. I am not about to let her destroy what Bash and I have now.

  “It’s okay, Tori,” Bash says, before looking up at Harper. “You can find a seat somewhere else, Harper. We don’t want you here. Not if you’re going to act like a bitch.”

  Harper rolls her eyes. “Don’t make me do something stupid, Bash. You know I will.”

  Bash bites on his lip. What could have him so worried? “Harper, knock it off. Just sit the fuck down and eat.”

  Bash has never spoken to me with so much hate behind his words.

  Harper’s stony expression eases up when Clay touches her forearm, issuing a silent decree for her to back down.

  But she shakes him off.

  “Not now,” Clay tells Harper. He’s the type of man who is used to getting what he wants and will not put up with her shit.

  What are they all hiding? It’s as if Harper is a ticking bomb, about to detonate any minute. Everyone at the table waits for her next move. They must be in on the secret. As usual, I am left out, stuck wondering what Harper is dying to say that has them all on edge.

  Harper shoots an evil stare in Bash’s direction and lets out a puff of air, blowing hair in her eyes. “Bash, can I talk to you?”

  “No,” he grunts. “I’m busy, and you're rude.”

  Bash looks at me and then to Harper, and for a second, I wonder what has transpired between them in the past. If the rumors are true, Harper sneaks into Bash’s room when he’s not home. I assume he has sex with her, but I haven’t had the nerve or desire to ask.

  “I have something to say to you,” Harper says, burning a hole through Bash. “Either come with me, or I will just go ahead and say it right here in front of everyone.”

  That provokes a response from Bash. Whatever is going on between them makes my stomach turn.

  “I’ll be back,” he whispers, his breath warming my earlobe. “Meet me out front of the library in one hour.”

  I nod in response, too overcome by emotion to speak.

  Bash gets up and walks away with Harper.

  This situation is so fucked up.

  When the two of them are out of sight, I look at Jessica. “Can you believe her?”

  She flicks her hair over her shoulder, feigning a smile. “Bash and Harper have this weird thing going on.”

  “As in they still do?” I ask, confused.

  Jessica shrugs. “She shows up at his house a lot. I can’t say for sure if anything happens between them. But you know, it’s Bash.”

  Her confession causes my stomach to churn, my breakfast about to make a reappearance. I tense up, now aggravated with Bash for leaving me for Harper, of all people.

  “Don’t worry about Harper,” Clay says with a genuine smile. “She’s just jealous. Bash will deal with her.”

  What was I thinking? Allowing Bash into my life again sets me up for failure. He hasn’t changed. Has he? When we’re alone, I see the difference in him. I see the old Bash, the guy I used to know. But what if this is a mistake? I’m so confused now that our relationship has extended outside the walls of my dorm room.

  We come from two different sides of the track. A relationship between us could never work. My life is not a fairy tale. I’m not supposed to have a rag to riches happily ever after. Bash will marry a girl like Harper—rich, beautiful, and down for anything. Where do I fit into the equation?

  I like him a lot. Those old feelings are still there. I could love him again, the way I did once. But is he worthy of my love? Can I trust him this time? Knowing the truth about that night helps. But it doesn’t repair the damage it did to my heart over night. Of course, Bash’s ability to give me multiple orgasms is a bonus. How can I forget that?

  I finish my eggs in silence. By the looks I give Jessica, she knows I want to be left alone. The awkwardness at the table ebbs away, their conversations blending with the noise of the cafeteria. I’m no longer the center of attention, which makes it the perfect time to leave.

  When I stand, Jessica lifts her tray to join me and flashes a bright smile.

  “Stay.” I force a fake smile to mirror hers. “I have to run to class. I’ll see you at home.”

  We’ve been friends long enough for her to pick up on my irritation. She was there through all the dark days after Bash wrecked me. If anyone knows how much he can hurt me, it’s Jessica. I need to retreat if I plan to keep my sanity in check. Sitting here with his friends, waiting for him like a lovesick puppy, makes me look pathetic. And I’m not pathetic. At least not anymore.

  “Okay.” Jessica bobs her head, deflated.

  I zip through the crowded halls, down the stairs, and out the front door. Even with the humidity and end-of-summer heat, the fresh air feels good. I can breathe easier now that I’m away from everyone. But Bash had better have a damn good reason for bailing on me for Harper. Because, this time, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bash

  “Harper, knock it the fuck off,” I say, shaking her hand away from me. “This shit has got to stop. You can’t attack Tori anytime you feel threatened by her. You and I are not together. You are not my girlfriend, and I am not your property.”

  “You are mine for as long as I say so,” she yells, attracting the attention of the people passing by us on the busy street.

  Once we reach an alleyway between the buildings, I pull her to the side, out of sight from onlookers.

  Lowering my voice, I keep my tone firm, serious. “Listen to me, and listen to me good, because I am not going to repeat myself again. You will not speak to Tori ever again. Are we clear?”

  She scrunches her nose in disgust with her arms folded over her chest. “You’re not the boss of me, Bash. And we have an agreement. Are you going to break it for Tori?”

  “You know what, I don’t care anymore.” I throw my hands up in the air, beyond frustrated. “We’ve been playing this game for far too long anyway. I can’t do this with you. If you want to tell Tori, go right ahead. It’s about time I come clean with her. She should know the truth.”

  “Bash, no,” she whines, tugging at my shirt to pull me closer. I slip from her grasp, but she grabs my hip to get my attention. “Please, Bash.” Her voice sounds so pathetic, desperate.

  Every time I threaten to end our arrangement, Harper backs down. But part of me is still afraid of what she might do if I walk away for good and end my suffering. Harper has money and everything she has ever wanted. Except for me. That’s why she used sex as a bargaining chip when she discovered my secret. Harper thinks I’m her end game because we come from wealthy families that have similar interests.

  But she was never even a thought when I had planned my future. From the second I met her, it was always Tori. Like an idiot, I let her slip away. I might’ve made a mistake once by leaving her alone, allowing her to heal on her own, but I never want a repeat.

  I spent years filling the void of losing Tori, waiting my time for a second chance. In all honesty, I never thought she would speak to me again. If I hadn’t convinced Jessica and Clay to help me, I doubt Tori would have come to my game. She hates football, and up until a few days ago, she hated me even more.

&n
bsp; While Harper is hanging onto me, I can use this to my advantage. She wants me in her life, and I want her to keep her mouth shut. But there’s no way I am ever touching her again. Now that I’m back with Tori, I don’t want another girl. Only Tori.

  “We’re done, Harper.” I lean down so that she has no trouble reading the words on my lips. “I never even liked fucking you.”

  “What?” She chokes out, her face twisting into confusion. “We both know that’s not true. You have no problem fucking my friends or me. As much as you want to deny it, you like my pussy just as much as it likes you. I know you like all the dirty little things I do with you and to you. You like to bend me over, spank my ass, and pull my hair when you come, so that you can show me I’m your dirty girl.”

  “The only reason I fuck you from behind is so I don’t have to look at your face,” I spit back.

  She looks as though she wants to cry. But she won’t. Harper is the biggest Ice Queen I have ever met. The cold practically runs through her veins.

  “You’re just saying that to get rid of me. Well, it’s not going to work. Just because Tori is back in the picture doesn’t mean I will bow out and let her have you. You are mine, Bash, and you have been mine ever since you got enough sense to ditch the gutter trash.”

  “Tori is not gutter trash,” I growl. “If anyone is trash, it’s you. It’s a shame your money can’t buy you some class.”

  “Don’t get all high and mighty on me. You’re no saint, Bash. I’ve witnessed you do quite a few things that would make your precious Tori sick to her stomach. She has no idea what you’re like.” Harper tugs at the seam of my shirt, holding onto me with a firm grip. “We are supposed to be together. You and I make sense together.”

  “Just because you’ve done some of those things with me doesn’t mean that I enjoyed them. Not when you were the one blackmailing me into doing them in the first place. If it were up to me, I would’ve set things with Tori straight years ago, instead of allowing her to…” I can’t even finish the rest of my thought, too ashamed of what had happened to Tori because of me. Because of our breakup.