Page 23 of Cruel Steps

“Emerson Adams.” I slapped my ID onto the table and held my head high while internally shaking.

The raven-haired girl in the center hadn’t spoken yet but picked up my ID and wrote down my name and student number, then handed me a large paper number to stick on and my ID. She eyed me curiously, but didn’t say anything.

“We’re only taking two dancers out of the fifty girls here,” the redhead said at the end—the same one who’d told me to go wrestling.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“What for?” Kimmy asked, crossing her arms.

“For letting me know I only have to beat out forty-eight people.”

Wiggling my fingers over my shoulder, I strutted off, embodying my ‘fake it until you feel it’ motto with an added twist.

Time to shake it.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

COLTER

I shifted the barbell, pushing up one last time before my muscles gave out. Holden lifted the bar into place and stared down at me when I didn’t move.

“You good?” He quirked an eyebrow, and I sat up.

“Yeah.” Wiping the sweat from my face, I accepted the water bottle he handed me.

“You’re far away today.”

I shrugged, guzzling the water. It was true. My mind hadn’t been on weight training at all. Instead, my thoughts were centered around a particular blonde bombshell who’d pulled me under her spell from the moment she’d collided with me. Her quirkiness had excited me, spurring me to soothe away her fears, and listen to the funny things she said.

She charmed me, and it hadn’t been because of who I was on campus or what I might give her. Mer had simply liked me, and that was a phenomenon I hadn’t experienced in years.

I wasn’t ashamed to admit I fell in love easily, and I had a knack for knowing exactly what a woman wanted. I could read their bodies and bring them pleasure most had never experienced. I liked being that guy. But after I discovered their secret, I grew bored and fell as quickly out of love as I did in.

Over the past three years, I’d gained a reputation on campus as the sweetheart fuck boy. Apparently, that meant I was a generous lover who gave a “boyfriend experience” but wasn’t actually boyfriend material—even without all the other Hayward bullshit interfering.

The sad reality was, they weren’t wrong. I hadn’t set out to be a one and done man, but I was. Mostly because I focused so much on what girls wanted, I didn’t explore the things that made me tick. I never built enough trust with a partner to explore. So, I’d told myself I wouldn’t be that guy anymore. I wasn’t going to fuck my way through the rest of Hayward and never develop a real connection.

But then I’d felt Mer’s body pressed against mine, and all reason had evaporated. I’d been spellbound. The past few weeks, texting with her had been so out of character for me, but I’d enjoyed every morsel of information she shared, always eager for more. Seeing her on campus today had been my highlight, and I hadn’t been able to hold myself back from making a move.

The kiss we shared was an out-of-body experience, and it had only been a peck. I’d need to take the whole weekend off to recover from anything deeper.

I dropped the empty water bottle into the bin so the equipment manager could wash it and grabbed the cleaning supplies to wipe our machines down. The rest of the team kept on training, though most were goofing off and shooting the shit.

“You want to grab something to eat?” Holden asked when I didn’t elaborate.

“Nah. I need to finish some prep work. You still set to move in tomorrow?”

“Fuck, yes. I need to get out of that house.” Holden’s jaw ticked, and I watched him with worry. He’d been really uptight lately, but he wouldn’t say why. Even after he’d apologized for his texts the other night he hadn’t expanded on where it had stemmed from. Something was different with him since he’d returned from camp, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with football.

My spidey senses told me it was about a girl, but that almost seemed as implausible as me being drafted first overall in the NFL. The two things did not go together.

Since becoming friends with Holden, he only had one goal—to be drafted in the first round. And unlike me, it was a real possibility for him. Holden was the real deal, and I didn’t know anyone who had worked harder. Because of that focus, he didn’t fool around like me and a lot of our teammates. Girls had never been his priority. He’d hook up after games, but it was rare, and always just sex. He didn’t date. Ever. So, for him to be hung up on a girl didn’t fit the football first motto he lived by.

“Everything okay at home?” I asked as we wiped down the bench.

Holden shook his head, shaking the bar harder than necessary. I watched as he debated with something before blowing out air and setting his eyes on me.

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