Page 10 of The Quarterback Sneak

She shifts from heel to heel, glancing around. “Uh, hey, Zach.” Well, that’s a surprise. She knows my name. I always thought I wasn’t high enough in the wealth bracket for her to notice me. I guess all those touchdowns I’ve helped score are hard to ignore. “Did you want something?” She raises one of her perfectly threaded eyebrows, a pinched expression marring her symmetrical face.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.” Her eyes widen, and I grin.

“Me?” She points at herself and looks around at the empty parking lot as though I must be confused. That or she’s looking for someone to save her from the poor kid.

“Yeah, how’s it going?” Her eyes narrow as she watches me. Her fingers are twitching and her bottom lip quivers. What does she think I’m going to do? Ask her about the Jamie incident?

“I meant generally. You know? As in a ‘how’s it going, buddy’ kind of way?” I nudge her shoulder with my hand, instantly regretting it. No one touches the queen without her permission, and I did. “Not because I feel bad for you or anything.” I close my eyes, cringing.

Way to go, Zach. You’re making this worse.

She drops her head and covers her face. “God, I must look pathetic if evenyou’remaking fun of me.”

Ignoring the spite in her words because I expect nothing less from her, I stand up a little straighter, emphasizing my height against her petite frame. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she quips, visibly surprised by my challenge.

“Nothing except if the poor kid is making fun of you, then you must be at a new low, right? That’s what you were thinking.”

She goes quiet, draping her shoulder-length honey hair toward her face to cover her blushing cheeks, then mumbles something as she opens her car door and tosses her books into the passenger seat.

“Is there something you wanted? I’m late for my elocution lessons.”

What the hell are elocution lessons? I shake my head, ridding myself of all the questions because it’s not the time to prove her poor stereotype by asking.

“Yes.” She bends forward, putting her Chanel bag in the floorboard of the passenger seat. My gaze trickles down her back, below the blazer, to the pleated fabric. Inch by inch, hersmooth, silky thighs slowly come into view, and I find myself concentrating harder than I did on that math problem today. Does she know how much that skirt creeps up when she bends over? Again, not a time to ask.

“Are you into role-play?”

What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Just. Say?!

She whips her head, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Totally deserved this time, and somehow, I need to get this conversation back on track. “What the hell are you talking about?” she yells, her face redder than I’ve ever seen it. Well, at least that got her attention.

“Just wait.” I raise my hands and take another step forward. She narrows her gaze on me but, again, doesn’t move away. When I’m close enough, I place one my hands on her shoulder, and she glares at my fingers but doesn’t move away. “So, I had this idea.”

She scowls at me. “Nothing good ever started with a jock having an idea.”

“Okay,” I mutter. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“If this is your way of telling me you can wake me up on the right side now that I’m single, I’m not interested.” I step back, startled by her response.

Sex. She thinks I’m only interested in screwing her? Is that all she thinks I care about? I guess that stupid comment about role-play hasn’t helped my case, but it’s easy to get tongue-tied when she stares at you.

I tilt my head, my jaw ticking, but I try to remain calm because I need her on my side if we’re going to make this work. “Not exactly. But I have an idea, and I want you to hear me out before saying no.”

“Sounds like you already think I’m going to say no.”

“I hope not.” I grin wider, elbowing her lightly. She stands still, just as icy as when I first called her name. When she doesn’t come back with a snarky response, I keep going. “I think we should pretend to date.”

I pause there, feeling out her body language, but all I’m met with is a blank stare. Not even a crease on her forehead is visible. Her wide devoid eyes stare back at me, making me feel like I’m going to hurl.

“Think about it,” I say, because anything’s better than standing here with her silent glare. “It makes perfect sense.”

Silence.

She blinks, and then finally, her face contorts. “No, it doesn’t. It makes no sense. At all.”

I wave my hand, dismissing her immediate rejection because, yeah, it sounds crazy if you haven’t been on the journey with me, but I’m determined to convince her otherwise. “You promised you’d let me finish before you said anything.”

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