Page 32 of The Wrong Quarterback

Before I knew it, I was in the passenger seat of his car. Gray turned up the music, some rap song blaring through the speakers as he pulled out of the school lot. He glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised. “So, ice cream or should I throw them in a dumpster? Your call.”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “Ice cream.”

“Good choice, Case. Much tastier,” he said, winking as he turned the wheel sharply, making a dramatic U-turn that had me gripping the seat and laughing despite myself.

The next half-hour was filled with him making every ridiculous joke he could think of, from ordering half the menu so we could taste test all the flavors to making up ridiculous stories about the people who came in while we watched.

By the time I had a spoonful of chocolate chip mint in my mouth, Marcie’s words were just a memory.

Gray always had that effect on me.

He was my hero.

I returned to the present as I watched as he gave a pretty girl a huge hug. Where was that guy now?

“Look at that fucking fool.”

I jumped, sloshing a bit of my drink over the side. Because I knew that voice. And it was the last voice that I was expecting at the moment. Trying to get a hold of myself, I slowly wiped my hand on my jeans, taking a deep breath before I turned.

Coming face to face with Parker Davis.

I opened my mouth to say something, but all my words had disappeared.

Awesome.

It physically hurt to look at him.

He was wearing a tight black Tigers shirt with a dark pair of jeans, and I watched, wide-eyed as he lifted his arm to push his hair out of his face, revealing a perfect set of abs as he moved.

I blinked a few times to make sure I was really seeing this. Until I realized that I was just gaping at Parker’s abs. Right in front of him. I quickly jerked my gaze back up, only to see a knowing smirk on his beautiful face because he knew exactly what I’d been doing.

Fuck. Could a hole open up in the floor, please?

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, did you say something?” I asked, cringing at how raspy my voice came out, like I was a pack a day smoker all of a sudden.

He leaned against the wall, his shirt pulling up again.

Don’t look at his abs. Don’t do it, I coached myself.

“I was saying he was a fuckingfool,” Parker said, his voice deep and low and…sensual…like his words had the power to wrap around me and hit me right between my legs.

“Who’s a fool?” I asked, still confused.

“You’re with that guy over there, aren’t you?Gray Andrews. The one who seems to have forgotten he’s supposed to be yours,” he drawled, staring daggers at Gray like he’d mortally offended him.

“How did you know that?” I asked, confused about how…and why Parker Davis would know anything about me.

Parker’s gaze returned to mine. His eyes slowly danced over my skin, like he was trying to take in every detail of my face.

I couldn’t help but shiver.

“When I find the girl of my dreams, you can bet your exquisite ass I’m going to find out everything I can about her.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending. What had he just said…it almost sounded like he’d called me the “girl of his dreams.”

He slowly reached over, and his fingers tapped my chin, gently pushing up, so I closed my mouth and stopped gaping at him like some kind of slow-witted fish. I gasped at the feel of his touch.

Was he messing with me right now? He had to be. This must be some cruel prank to take advantage of the naive freshman girl who clearly didn’t belong at this party. Maybe this was hazing at its worst.

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