Page 20 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

His shoulder lifts as his lips curl, a bragging expression sticking around his face.

“My mom is obsessed with Jane Austen novels, so whenever I had to read a book for a report in high school, I picked one of her favorites. Turns out I kinda like ’em, too. I mean, the dated language is tough, but I got better with it. I took both courses they offer here for my English requirements. And not to brag, but I got two As.”

I stare at him with my mouth open for a few seconds before finally letting out a single breathy laugh. “Well, damn.”

He chuckles and hops up from our table, jogging to the utensils station where he snags a to-go carton for me. When he sits back down to box up my salad I question whether I’ve blinked at all in the last thirty seconds.

“Who are you?” My head falls to the side.

He smirks but doesn’t look up.

“I’m a mama’s boy. But don’t let that fool you.” He tucks the cardboard tab in and pushes the box toward me.

“Fool me how? Into thinking you’re a gentleman?”

His lips settle into a soft line that teases me somehow, like he’s hiding a secret, one that gives him pleasure.

“Maybe I’ll share my other side with you sometime in the library.”

And if the undeniable suggestion in his words, spoken deep and sultry, didn’t send a rush of tingles straight between my thighs, the dimple and wink definitely do the trick.

Maybe a fifty-dollar buy-in isn’t so expensive after all.

8/

logan

I think I’ve dreamt about bending Rachel over the library study table no less than five times since our little conversation about library hookups. It definitely made this week’s study sessions a challenge in the focus department.

The more time we spend together, the more I want to overstep my boundaries. I’m all for making her ex jealous, mostly because he seems like a real prick. But I don’t know where the line is for when I should turn it on and off. Are we playing at being a couple all the time or just when he’s around? Because I’m down for practicing whenever.

There was a moment last Friday when we were leaving the library and I held the door open for her. She passed by me, her ass brushing against my thigh, and I swear my dick swelled up and pointed at her as if it were a dog on a hunt. Her curves are like art. I imagine her face on all the damn classical paintings hanging in the library mezzanine whenever we meet. Fuck, to see her spread out on some velvet sofa while eating grapes, her perfect tits arched toward the sky, my tongue on those nipples. She wore this purple sweater Friday, the dick-pointing day, and her hard nipples taunted me through most of the lesson on chemical bonds.

But today? Today, I think she’s trying to torture me.

It’s Tuesday. Not our usual meeting day. We had to bump our lesson back a day because Coach wanted to break down our preseason game play after practice. I was in the team lecture hall until midnight last night with Jax and our quarterback, Dante, going through specific plays that require the three of us to be perfectly in sync. Thank God I remembered to text Rachel that morning. I don’t want to ever stand her up again. At this point, I’m not sure I could take a chem quiz without her prepping me. I’m three for three on passing grades. Plus, I’ve gotten used to our routine. I like seeing her throughout my week. And I find I’m constantly looking for excuses to see her more.

I asked her to meet me after practice so we could study at my place. I wasn’t sure she’d go for it but she said she was dying to see this place everyone calls the football house. It’s not anything special. Just a two-story me and four other guys share about a block or two from campus. But Rachel? She seems to be treating the invitation as something special.

I saw her walk up the first few rows of stadium seats at the start of practice, her hair blowing around in these wild red waves, her white cotton dress swishing around her hips and tickling her knees. It’s a brisk fall sunset, but warm enough I guess for her to dress like a virgin who fell from heaven. For a while, she covered her shoulders in this pink sweater that she clutched at her chest. But the wind died down, and now she’s all sun-kissed shoulders and tempting breasts. Fucking beautiful. I have to know what they look like, her breasts.

“Ford! Earth to Ford!” The slap at the back of my helmet snaps me from my most recent stare fest. I turn to meet Jax’s wide grin.

“You hot for Teacher?” he teases.

“Ha, ha,” I say with the snarkiest tone I can drum up. It’s all a cover, and Jax sees right through it.

“Girl is fine as hell. And smart! She’s out of your league,” he says through a sharp laugh, slapping my shoulder pad then taking off toward the middle of the field. I jog behind him, ruminating on his assessment and feeling a whole lot less confident about seducing her over our study session.

We huddle up and take knees so the coaching staff can review the game plan for this week. Our first division game is Saturday, and we’re favored to win. But in true Tiff U football tradition, being favored doesn’t mean jack shit. This year is going to be different, though. Expectations will be met and then left in the dust.

After we break, I head toward the seats, stopping Jax before he takes off for the locker room.

“Hey, Rachel is coming over to study tonight, by the way. Maybe try not to walk around in your boxers and shit. Class it up some?” I’m having second thoughts about taking her to the football house. We’re gross, and I’m not sure who was on cleaning duty last week, but they failed miserably. I know it wasn’t me. When it’s my turn, our pad smells like lemon zest and sparkles floor to ceiling. I have a feeling it was Dante’s turn this round, and while he can throw a pass on a dime, the dude can’t seem to work a mop.

“Yeah, I got you, bro. No boxers. Just shirtless flexing. Maybe I can do a few push-ups for her in the living room? You know, so she knows her options.” He plays it serious for a few seconds so I call him a dick and leave him to laugh at his own lame jokes.

“You want me and Dante to leave the lights on and crack our doors open so she doesn’t try any funny business with you?” He’s shouting at my back now. I hope like hell Rachel can’t hear any of this bullshit. I lift up my hand and flash him a middle finger over my shoulder, and a second later I hear his laugh bellow in the distance.

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