That’s sad. I’m sad. A sad little, lost, rich girl who doesn’t have any feelings and will most likely die a virgin because not even the overly-friendly Tim knows quite how to handle me.
“Jesus, that guy is a wreck.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck rise and I swear my heart settles itself in my throat, making it hard to speak. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It haunts my dreams. And my nightmares.
I’m hearing things. I have to be. He’s not here. He would have zero reason to be here. Last I recall, he hated football and I’m sure he still does. Right?
“Are you dating him, Sin? Really? You know you could do much better,” August drawls as he settles into the chair right next to mine.
Right.
Next
To.
Mine.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper, trying not to look at him. Oh God, I can smell him though. And I can feel him too. His thigh is pressed next to mine and it’s just as firm and as thick as I remember it. His body heat radiates, making me want to cozy up to him, and that is the most insane thought I think I’ve ever had in my life.
“It’s the frat’s suite. I come to the occasional game or two.” He slouches in his chair, resting his elbow on the arm rest, right next to mine, and I don’t move. It’s like I can’t.
It’s like I don’t want to.
“For some reason I didn’t think you’d like football,” I murmur.
“My cousin is marrying the top pick for the upcoming NFL draft. I’ve learned to love football.”
I finally turn my head to look in his direction, finding it hard to believe helovesfootball, as he claims. It was a huge mistake, looking at him. My gaze meets his, drowning in those pretty blue eyes, hating the amusement I see there. All of it at my expense.
“Are you impressed with the suite?” he asks. “That’s all Tim wanted—was to impress you.”
Realization dawns. He did this on purpose. “You gave Tim the tickets?”
“They were going to waste tonight.” He shrugs. “I thought I’d make his weekend with the offer.”
“You don’t give a shit if tickets go to waste or not.” What was his ulterior motive? It wasn’t to…see me, was it?
No. Impossible.
“Oh, but I do.” His expression is serious, as is his voice.
I glance around, looking for a stray female around our age, but I don’t see one. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
He frowns. “Mygirlfriend? I don’t have one.”
“Then whose lipstick was that in your room?” I shouldn’tcare. Nope, I shouldn’t, but I sound like a jealous cow and I’m so annoyed at myself. I wish I could take it all back.
August laughs, making me feel like a joke. “That’s our housemother’s lipstick. She keeps the frat in line. Yolanda has been there for years. She wears this really dark stuff and she owns about fifty tubes of it. Leaves them all over the house.”
“Uh huh.” I don’t believe him. His housemother. Please.
“I’m serious.” He looks pissed that I don’t believe him and I kind of like it.
“Yo, Lancaster. Prez. What are you doing here?” Tim plops into the seat on the other side of me, handing over a fresh plate with a variety of picks from the charcuterie board. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”
“Of course I would. I love football.” August grins at Tim while jabbing his elbow into my side. “Right, Sin?”
“Sin?” Tim’s eyes go wide as he studies us. “I never put that together. That her name could be Sin.”