Page 21 of Devious Gambit

“Not at this very moment.”

She’s so cute in her oversized hooded sweatshirt, skinny black jeans and black Doc Martins. I’d bang her. “Maybe later. So, who do you know in the pen?” I enquired, playing dumb and pointing to the envelope with the corrections stamp clearly marked.

She glanced at the letter. “My dad.”

“Wow. What did he do?” again playing dumb. I already knew all about Brett Moody.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. And it’s personal,” she spat, shutting down and snatching the envelope in her hand. Damn it.

“Okay. Fair enough.” I’ll drop it for now. “Can I give you a ride home?”

“I don’t want you knowing where I live,” she stressed, still as cautious as fuck. I mean, she just gave me head in the fucking EAP library; surely we’ve crossed a line into friendship at least.

“I already know where you live,” I told her, which was true. Unfortunately, Sweeney and Greene also knew where she lived. That was a problem.

Fear washed across her face. “How do you know?”

“I’m no stalker.” Cody got me find out where she and Tristan Fisher lived to keep an eye on them.

“You follow me around a lot,” she pointed out, “like a bad smell.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I like looking at you and want to get to know you better. Hey, how about I take you out for dinner?”

“I’ve already eaten.”

Yeah, I know, my cock. “What about dessert? I know this place that has the best baked cheesecakes in the state.”

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” she asked.

I was stunned. “Fuck, this is not high school.” I could see where she was coming from. Me: popular sophomore, linebacker in the Hawks, Chicago elite. Her: Shy freshman, middleclass Detroit native, unremarkable, blink and you’ll miss her.

“Okay,” she spoke so quietly, I almost missed it.

I put my hand to my ear, mockingly. “Sorry?”

“Okay,” she said louder.

“Great. Your shout.”

“Umm, I thought…”

“I’m joking Rhys. I got a spare million, I’m sure I can afford a cheesecake or two.”

NINE

Rhys

I couldn’t believe he was real, even though he sat opposite me, a solid human being, beautifully sculptured into a piece of glorious art. He was so handsome I found it difficult to look at his face. It had to be a joke, this seriously could not be happening. I had moments when I could still feel and taste his penis in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but I definitely liked touching his private parts with my fingers and looking closely at his bits and pieces. His erect penis was out of this world, outstanding, but also bizarre and big. I’m convinced it would hurt a lot shoving that thing inside. Fascinating creatures, men are.

While we ate cheesecake he asked me about my family, and I told him fragments without going into details. I hated talking about myself. I guess I was ashamed of being so lonely and inept at making friends easily.

He drove me home afterwards and kissed me goodnight like a boyfriend kisses his girlfriend, confusing me a little. The team had an early flight somewhere for a game of something, so he left.

I couldn’t sleep, thinking about him all night, his hard lines against my soft curves. I could get used to kissing him, yet I knew I would be foolish to believe it could possibly evolve into something substantial. Rhys Gallagher must not fall for a jock. Period.

In the wee hours of the morning, I heard the wooden stairs outside creak. I listened for a few seconds and waited until a shadow past by the curtain. Nothing. So, I tried to relax into sleep. I had a shift at Stads and assignments to work on, so I needed a clear head and good energy.

I shut my eyes only to see randy Mr. Ed in my mind. The wooden stairs complained again and I snapped my eyes open, listening intently. Creaking, definite creaking. Then I saw it, a shadow passing by the window. I bolted upright, feeling panic surge through every cell in my body. Someone was stepping quietly up the stairs.

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