Page 72 of End Game

“You should come stand by the fire.”

“I’ll be fine.” I offer him a weak smile.

“Want to wear my hoodie?” I turn at the same time he makes the offer, my mouth dropping open when he starts to take it off. He lifts the hem, taking his shirt with it, exposing the perfection that is his muscledabdomen, and I immediately bat at his hands, trying to stop him. My fingers accidentally brush his abs, and oh my God, they’re rock hard.

My face is on absolute fire.

“I don’t want to take it from you, but thank you. I’m fine,” I reassure him. He keeps his sweatshirt on, frowning at me. “Really.”

His gaze falls to my chest, blatantly checking me out, and I swear to God I can feel my nipples growing tighter. “You look pretty cold to me.”

“Stop,” I chastise, my voice soft. “I’m going inside.”

I’m about to turn on my heel and walk away from him, totally embarrassed by what he said, but he grabs my hand, preventing me from leaving. I angle my head in his direction to find a contrite expression on his handsome face.

“Sorry.” He swallows hard. “I just ... it was obvious.”

My cheeks are still warm, and I’m sure I am red in the face. “It’s okay.”

“Come on.” He tugs me closer, letting go of my hand only to slide his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go inside.”

I briskly walk ahead of him, his arm falling away from me, but I don’t look back. I can feel him looming behind me, hear him greet people as we walk past them, and all I can do is smile because most of them are complete strangers to me.

What’s it like to have so many people know who you are? To adore you for what you do out on the field? He’s like a celebrity on this campus. What did Sienna call them?

The kings of the campus.

That’s the perfect description.

We’re approaching the back sliding door when I realize Frank and Portia are still standing there, and she’s so very obviously wrapped around him, her hands everywhere. I wish I could tell him that she’s just using him. But I can’t. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.

I try to think positive. Maybe she’s not using Frank at all. Maybe she actually likes him. He’s nice. He’s good looking. He’s a footballplayer, which seems to be her type. And he’ll do anything for the woman he falls for ...

“Oh, hey, Nico,” Portia says, her voice way too casual, her fingers curling around the waistband of Frank’s jeans. “Still with her, I see.”

The disdain dripping from her tone makes me tense up.

The way Nico oh-so-casually slings his arm around my shoulders yet again doesn’t help.

“What are you doing with Dollar?” he asks Portia, his voice edged with hostility.

“What does it look like?” She focuses all her attention on Frank, tipping her head back like she’s waiting for a kiss while Frank just appears confused.

The pout that forms on Portia’s face when Frank doesn’t do what she wants almost makes me laugh. But the heavy weight of Nico’s arm is a reminder that I need to act like I’m ... what?

Hisgirlfriend?

That thought almost has me laughing as well.

“Uh, Nico ...,” Frank starts, and I’m sure he’s remembering that his friend, teammate, and roommate used to be with Portia. “It’s not what you think.”

“It’s exactly what you think.” Portia steps in front of Frank and grabs his arms, wrapping them around her, settling her hands over his. “We’re together.”

“We are?” Portia jabs her elbow into Frank’s ribs, and he coughs. “I mean, we are.”

I can feel Nico tense beside me, and I wonder if that bothers him, or if he misses Portia.

I mean, look at her. She’s gorgeous. And she knows it. The helpless look on Frank’s face is downright comical. I’m sure he’s stunned that this beautiful woman wants to be with him when the poor guy is always chasing some girl.

---