Page 12 of Little Do You Know

“You sound like Thalia. She hates the damn thing too.” Owen grimaces before shaking his head. I can tell by the look on his face he wants to say something about her, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. “Look, Bash, I know she fucked up with the party, but could you at least try to give her a chance? Lia said she apologized, and you blew her off. I don’t know what the hell happened between the two of you sophomore year, but you used to get along. For my sake, it’d be nice if you didn’t hate her.”

“I don’t hate her,” I say simply. It’s true, and I wish I did because everything would be so much easier if I could. “When she stops acting like a child, I’ll stop treating her like one.”

It’s not that simple.

There’s so much he doesn’t know.

It sucks that he looks disappointed in me, but it’s the best I can do without tossing a grenade into our friendship. “I’m assuming you’re going to the trainer after this? That’s why you asked about my truck?”

I nod shortly, and Owen smiles. “Enjoy your ice bath from hell.”

~

It’s late when I get home, much later than I expected, especially with how early I have to be up. My back aches, and I know I should ice it again before sleeping. Coach wanted to go over our playbook again, and then we got on the topic of the draft.

It’s a fucking relief to open the door to find the apartment in complete darkness. I don’t want to chance running into Thalia again. She fucks with my head enough as it is.

There’s an abundance of ice packs in the freezer for the very reason I’m looking for one right now. It’s not my first bruise, nor will it be my last. I pull my shirt off and set it on the counter.

Whoever said you can’t put ice on bare skin has never been hurt. I lean forward on the counter, resting my head on the cool granite as I reach the awkward angle to hit the correct spot.

Coach C told me tonight that there will be scouts at this game. I know I’m entering the draft once the season is over, but other guys on the team need this chance. I want everyone to do the best they can.

No pressure or anything.

At least the course load this week will be nonexistent. Syllabus week is for those who don’t have the hope of becoming a professional athlete. I’m sure Thalia’s at one of the frat houses tonight with Vera. At least Blake seems to be reasonable about school.

I like her, and she seems to get Thalia. Maybe Blake can get through to her in a way Owen can’t. Or maybe…Thalia did grow up when she was over there.

“Bash?”

Thalia’s soft voice echoes through the kitchen, and I jerk my head to look at her, praying that she’s more decent than she was this morning. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, and she’s only wearing—just fucking kill me—a sports bra and sleep shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Clearly, we need to discuss what’s appropriate to wear outside our rooms.

I bite back my groan, forcing my eyes to stay on her face. “What, Thalia?”

She chews her bottom lip and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s late. Did you just get home?”

I pull the ice pack away to set it on the counter. I’m not contorting myself into an uncomfortable position in front of her. It’s like Thalia can sense weakness, and I need any advantage I can get. “Do you ever wear clothes?”

“I do, and I am wearing clothes. You always seem to be awake and out here when I’m not wearing more clothes. It’s hot in here; I forgot how miserable the humidity can be in fall.” Her mouth tilts upward into a smile. “Do you?” Thalia asks, motioning to my bare chest.

“Why are you awake?” I ignore her playful remark, trying to maintain distance between us.

“I have trouble sleeping. I usually only get a few hours a night, and I’m up sporadically.”

“I wondered if you’d be out partying with your friends,” I admit. Thalia recoils visibly at my words, doing exactly what I thought it would.

“Contrary to your belief, those days are behind me. I’m not the same person I was when I left. I, um—” She pauses, catching sight of the ice pack. “Are you okay?”

I shrug, regretting it almost immediately at the tightness of my muscles. The ice bath I endured earlier hasn’t done what it usually does for me. “I’m sore. I got hit at practice, but I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

And then, before I can register what’s happening, Thalia is right behind me, resting her small hands on my skin. I suck in a sharp breath as she presses her fingers into all the right spots. “You don’t need to do that.” Please don’t stop. Please.

“You’re really tight,” she murmurs, and I can’t help groaning when she hits a particularly sore spot.

“Like a virgin,” I joke, trying to take my mind off what she’s wearing. Wrong joke to do that. My cock is already stiff from just looking at her.

“Or an asshole,” Thalia replies quickly. It’s ridiculous that it makes me smile because it’s the insult she seems to favor with me. I looked up what connard meant after she called me it twice, and it didn’t shock me when my translation app came up with the word asshole. “I thought the QB wasn’t supposed to get hit at practice.”

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