Page 48 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
It takes major effort to stamp out the smile pulling at my lips and turn it into a scowl. “I’m not going to take it easy. I don’t care if you can’t keep up. That’s not my problem. I’m not slowing down for you,” I say as I cross my arms.
Theo’s mouth forms a cocky grin. “I’d be disappointed if you ever thought it was okay to lower yourself for anyone. I’d rather drag myself behind you than watch you be anything less than the magnificent creature you are.”
That almost breaks me. The sincerity in his voice has me looking away from his hazel eyes, unable to handle the absolute admiration in them.
“Besides, imagine the bragging rights I’ll have earned when you realize I can keep up with you, Harkin.”
He can’t. Even if he had the endurance, I’d rather run until I collapse than give him the satisfaction. Boyfriend or not, I’m going to destroy him.
“Now, share that playlist. I’ll get my headphones from the Jeep.”
He wants my running playlist?
Why is he so damn adorable when all I want is to run the rage right out of my body?
Sadly for Theo, by the time I’ve finally run out enough of the overwhelming emotions of the morning, he’s huffing and puffing.
We’re both dripping in sweat, chests rising and falling rapidly as we enter my apartment, heading straight for the shower.
“Told you—you can’t pass me,” I tell him, bragging obnoxiously.
He just smiles. “Told you I liked staring at your ass. Only took a couple of minutes before I realized the perks oflettingyou win.”
I scowl. “In your dreams, Baseball Boy.”
“You’re in all my dreams, Getaway Girl,” he says as he picks me up.
Damn him.
But as he washes my hair, taking the time to massage my scalp just as he did the last time, I whisper my thanks.
For staying. For understanding.
He kisses my shoulder, accepting me exactly as I am.
Chapter Twenty
Theo
I’m eating lunch with my teammates in the student building when my phone rings. The caller ID has me jumping from my seat, trying to find an area that’s somewhat quiet.
“Hello?” I answer when I’ve tucked myself into a corner near one of the restaurants.
“Barlowe,” Finn says. “You got a minute?”
“Yeah.” I lean against the wall. “What’s up?”
“I checked in on the fraternity you asked about. The game isn’t just a rumor. It’s part of their initiation this year,” he confirms what I already suspected.
My free hand drags down my face. What scumbags.
“And are any of the girls in on it?” I ask, wondering if, despite the game being messed up, at least the participants are aware.
“See, that’s the thing.” His voice sharpens. “Some of those points? They weren’t earned consensually.”
The words land like a hit straight to my chest. My shoulders stiffen in concern. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what it sounds like. Guys have bragged about scoring when the girl was too drunk to know what was happening or pressuring her into it because they were close to being cut.” His voice hardens. “It’s fucked up.”
