Page 31 of Foolish Games

“Come ‘ere,” he says, opening his arms. He pulls me in, holding the back of my head and pressing my face to his shoulder. “I’d do it because now that I know you, you’re actually a little bit cooler than I thought. I gotta look out for my boy’s sister, don’t I? And come on, that kid is shit. I’ll get back at him for everything he’s said to me by fucking his girl, and you can make him jealous.”

Suddenly, I’m keenly aware of how close we are, that I’m standing between his muscular thighs, and if I leaned in just a little…

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m literally crying, but somehow I managed to think about Sebastian’s dick at the same time.

“What did he say to you?” I ask, drawing back.

Sebastian shrugs and avoids my gaze. “Oh, you know. The regular bullshit.”

I narrow my eyes. “Like what?”

“Like you all think I’m fucking stupid,” he says flatly, meeting my eyes at last.

“I don’t think that.”

He snorts. “Yes, you do.”

We stare at each other, so close he could pull me in and kiss me. But he doesn’t want to kiss me.

He wants me to know he’s not stupid.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shame washing over me. I have always looked down on my brother’s football buddies, even though I know Rob’s not dumb. My parents got him private tutoring and stipulated he had to keep his grades up if he wanted to play football. But a lot of his friends are constantly getting benched for bad grades, and half the kids we tutor are athletes. I guess I did take him for a dumb jock.

He shrugs. “It’s alright. I must be pretty fucking stupid to have run my mouth in there. Robert’s going to kill me when he finds out I’m banging his sister.”

I glare at him. “I’m going to tell him what happened.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, holding up both hands. “Just figured I’d give you a shot if you wanted to have me whacked. I mean, I’ve been kind of a dick to you over the years.”

“Kind of?” I ask, raising a brow.

He laughs. “Okay, maybe a full dick. A big, hard dick full of cum.”

“That’s a little more accurate.”

A moment of awkward silence falls after his overly sexual comment, during which I try not to picture his dick.

“Speaking of,” he says. “Now that we’re sleeping together, we should know some basics. I have a strawberry birth mark on my left pec and burn scar on my shoulder blade. And my dick’s eight and a half inches and this big around.” He makes a circle with his fingers that doesn’t quite touch.

“Wh-what?” I ask, gaping at him. He was palming it the other night in the car, but I didn’t get to see anything except the road. It’s not like he whipped it out. If he had, and it’s really that big, I probably would have driven off the road and killed us both.

He grins smugly. “A big brain’s not everything you want in a man after all?”

“Shut up.”

“What about you?” he asks. “Birthmarks, scars, bra size?”

“I’m not telling you my bra size,” I say, glaring.

“I’d guess a small C,” he says, openly examining my breasts.

“Stop it,” I protest, crossing my arms over my chest. “And I’m not sleeping with you, so this doesn’t matter.”

“I know that,” he says, catching my elbow. A little smile creeps onto his face. “But Chad doesn’t.”

Another stab of pain darts into me, but I keep myself together this time. “You really think he’d take me back if we made him jealous?” I ask, hating how hopeful I sound.

A funny expression crosses Sebastian’s face. “Why would you take him back?” he asks. “That’s the question. He’s not the prize, Princess. You need to think of this from the other perspective. He’s a puny little nerd who cheated on you. You’ve got a decent looking face and a bangin’ bod. Most dudes at this school would nail you in a heartbeat.”

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