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“My pleasure.” His voice sends that tingling right between my legs. He nods in the direction I was heading. “May I walk you home?”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating the win?”

“I am.” He replies, extending his elbow. I chuckle at the outdated gentlemanly gesture but loop mine through anyway. We walk in silence for a block, people passing us with friendly waves, shouting some version of “good game”. He’s polite but doesn’t stop walking and quickly focuses on me. I catch him watching me several times.

“I love food.” He blurts out after almost 2 blocks. I smile unsure where he’s going with this. “I love it so much I eat it several times a day. Do you…do you love food?”

My face heats, this time in anger. He’s mocking me! I’m pleasantly plump, yes, but I’m in great shape. I’m active and athletic, I am blessed with plump genes. And big tits. I glare up at him, opening my mouth to rip him a new one, when I notice the earnest expression on his face. It’s…endearing.

I shrug, “It’s alright.”

He gasps, “Justalright? Food is life.”

“I thought football was life?”

“Nah.” He waves off my comment with his free hand. “Football is a means to an end.” I’m not sure what that means, but he continues before I have a chance to ask. “So, food…wanna get some with me tomorrow?”

Did he just…? “Oh. Uh. Won’t you be hungover from partying?”

He smiles quickly. “Do you always interact with people based on stereotypes?”

“What? No!” Shit, do I do that? I did, didn’t I?

“Then have lunch with me tomorrow and learn who I am, not what you think I am.”

Alright, I have a choice. Turn him down and always wonder what if or… “Ok. Is this a date?” Nobody got anywhere by beating around the bush.

With a chuckle, he answers, “Yes.”

I grin teasingly, “Isn’t dinner a normally accepted date meal?”

He stops us in the middle of the sidewalk, a block away from my apartment. “It is, but I don’t think I can wait that long to see you again.”

Shit. That was good. Smooth. I meet his gaze and hold it, trying to figure out if he’s playing with me. I see nothing but sincerity and genuine interest. “Then it’s a lunch date.”

Broad grin, he uses his hold on my arm to bring me closer to his body, and we resume the walk home. We don’t speak; both lost in our own heads. I can’t believe he asked me out. He’s a football player with smooth practiced lines, yet I don’t get that impression from him. Trust until they give you a reason not to. If nothing else, I’ll get a decent lunch out of it.

“Thank you for the company.” I stop us in front of my apartment entrance. “Should I give you my number in case something comes up and you need to cancel?”

“I’ll take your number. But nothing, and I mean nothing, will stop me from seeing you tomorrow.” I pull my phone from my mini backpack, and he retrieves his from his shorts’ pocket. We tap devices and exchange numbers. “Sleep well, Phia.” He surprises me with a lingering kiss to my cheek. It’s over before I can even process the feel of his lips on my skin. Hands in his pockets, he grins as he walks backward, before spinning around and retracing our steps. I place my fingers to my cheek, watching him walk away with a bounce in his step.

What was that?

Prib 4.

Shaking my hands at my side, I blow out a harsh breath, then ring Phia’s apartment. Ain’t gonna lie, I’m a little nervous. Well, I guess it’s more excitement. I haven’t felt like this since I asked out my first girlfriend in 4thgrade.

Being an athlete, and a handsome one at that, has made the dating world easy to navigate. It’s pretty much guaranteed that if I want company for the evening, it’ll find me before the night is over. Very little effort goes into it because there is no shortage of co-eds, and some same-eds that want to spend naked time with a college athlete just to say they did. No feelings involved, just a mutual desire to climax.

And that lifestyle has served me well over the years.

I’m nervous because Phia isn’t a cleat chaser or a jersey slut. She’s a highly intelligent, driven, competent adult woman…and unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Yes, her tits are huge and epic and I dream of them nightly. There’s more to it than that, though. And I’m hoping, praying, wishing that today’s lunch date shows her that I am more than a football stat; I’m a man with purpose.

“Hello?” Her voice comes through the speaker hesitantly. I smile.

“Phia.”

“Who is this?” I choke on a laugh.

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