Page 15 of Off Her Game
“Homecoming football game. Freshman year. I agreed to fill in for the mascot when he got sick at the last minute, whose absence in retrospect I’m pretty sure was on purpose. God, I was a gullible dipshit.” He shook his head and blew out an agitated sigh. “Of course, I jumped at the chance to be found cool by seniors when the football team captain asked me to help out. The fake fur mascot suit was so tight and hot that I had to take off almost all my clothes to fit into it. Back then I wasn’t…” He glanced down at himself. “In shape.”
“None of us rocked high school.” She wanted to give him a hug, but held back.
“I ran through the paper banner to open the game and…surprise. They hit me with a fire hose water spray. No one knew there was a pressure problem with the hydrant they used. It blew the mascot suit off me. And my underwear. Ended up swimming naked in mud.”
“Oh my God. You can’t be…”
“The video John, the fucker, took of it went viral.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. “No. Can’t be. You’re Naked Chicken Boy?”
His eyelids drifted closed as he put his hands over his face. “For the record, it was a hawk outfit. Not a chicken.”
“Sure looked like a chicken.” A bit of laughter escaped. “God, I’m sorry. That video was epic. That was you?”
“I hoped John would move away from the city.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I go out there right now and he’ll show the video to his new New York friends. Then someone will snap a photo of me. It’ll end up online as alook-at him-nowthing. It’ll get shared with all nine hundred in my graduating class. The old video will have an upsurge in interest. Then I’ll be reliving the nightmare of being Naked Chicken Boy for another few years.”
“Is this why you don’t like the media?”
“Yeah.”
She leaned in and kissed him. Brief. Not at all satisfying, but an invitation. She pulled back to let him make the next move while a hint ofshouldn’t-have-done-thatswamped her in uncertainty.
His chest rose and fell for endless seconds as he stared at her mouth. He was going to kiss her back.
Her breath hitched as he leaned in. The fabric across his chest tightened.
Her body tingled as she waited for the press of his lips against hers, but just when she thought he was going to close in on the final few inches, he cleared his throat and slowly pulled away.
“That was a pity kiss, wasn’t it?” His eyes narrowed.
Yeah, it had been. She put a hand on either side of his face. “There’s something about you, Noah. It makes me a little crazy.”
“Then, what was it? Felt a lot like pity.”
“You’re overthinking it. Let that ridiculous video get you something positive for a change.” She threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. “Kiss me. You want to.”
“This is a line we shouldn’t cross. I won’t deny I want to.” He slid his hands up her arms. Cupping her neck, one hand gently twisting in her hair, he pulled her head back an inch. On an audible gasp, her eyes widened in surprise at the dominant move before he brought his mouth a whisper from hers.
He paused.
Oh, for God’s sake, do it!
Eyes locked, she anchored her hands in place on his upper arms. Holding her breath, her skin prickled with awareness, with the knowledge he might think himself right out of doing this. Maybe they needed one of them to be cautious because leaping-before-thinking didn’t always turn out well for her.
He said, “We shouldn’t.”
“Probably not.”
He cut the distance between them, his lips touched hers. On a sigh, she melted into him, relieved.
Tentative at first, they explored, their lips light and not quite fusing.
She moved her hands to the back of his neck as if to keep him from pulling away.
Mouths opened. Grips tightened. The lightest touch of tongues.
He pressed her against the door and delved deeper while his thumb caressed the pulse point on her neck. His mouth left hers to kiss behind her ear. “How many tattoos do you have?”
