Page 57 of Relationship Goals

Abigail:You better not. You made some big promises today. I expect the full performance asap

Abigail:Maybe an encore or two

My dick immediately gets hard, and I grit my teeth.

Luke:I’ll be ready

I make myself turn off my phone. If I keep texting her, I’ll be playing with the worst case of blue balls in my life. Competing with a little excess testosterone is a good thing—unmitigated levels of sexual frustration, however, is not.

I want to win. I always want to win.

But today, I want Abigail to watch me win.

Chapter Fourteen

Abigail

Air-conditioning blasts inthe box, frigid cold battling with the balmy golden heat outside. My thighs are cold, the tip of my nose is cold, and my fingers are half frozen. I’m surprised the glass hasn’t frosted over.

My calves and lower thighs are toasty, though, considering I shoved my legs into over-the-knee black boots, because I thought they’d look sexy with the Wolf’s jersey. Underneath, I’m wearing teeny-tiny spandex shorts I usually reserve for Pilates.

Ridiculous double bubble braids complete the look, along with thick dark sunglasses that make me feel both glamorous and like no one can see the white-water torrent of thoughts in my head.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Michelle calls out, and I turn away from the field, grinning at her.

“Okay, glam soccer queen,” she adds, looking me up and down. “You look adorable.”

“I feel stupid,” I admit. “But thank you.”

“No, you look so cute.” She picks at her trousers. “I have to come to these things somewhat professionally. Your outfit is a breath of fresh air.”

“I am getting a lot of air.” I pluck at the short hem of the jersey.

“Did Wolfe give that to you?” Michelle asks, her brown eyes wide. “I heard a rumor he was having swag sent to your house.”

“He brought it over this morning,” I say, biting my lip and trying to ignore the fresh heat wave at the memory.

“He brought it over to your house?” she asks, her voice pitched higher. “Oh, that is so freaking cute. See? He does like you.”

“He said he did,” I agree, making myself look at her. I might have told her about our first kiss, but I’m not about to tell her about how he went down on me.

My glasses are a bit stupid facing away from the sunny field, so I push them up on my head.

“Oooh, glitter,” Michelle says. “Shiny.”

“I wanted to match the gold.” I feel extra ridiculous now. Bubble braids and glitter eyeshadow. What am I, a kid?

“I love it. You really look supercute. Very WAG of you.”

Michelle clocks my confused look and clarifies, “Wives and girlfriends.”

She grabs a menu from one of the tables as I digest that.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Wives and girlfriends?” I repeat, still stuck on it.

“It’s just what the player’s, you know, wives and girlfriends are called.” She doesn’t look up from the menu, plopping down on one of the cushy couches and crossing her legs.

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