Page 9 of False Start
I arch a brow. “Are you making fun of me?”
He appears genuinely confused. “Um, no? I really don’t date.”
“At all?”
“At all.”
“Ohhh,” I say as it dawns on me what he’s saying.
“Ohhh?”
I look across the fire to where Ben and Zina sit. They’re sucking face and paying us no mind, but I still lean over to him and whisper, “You’re a virgin?”
He laughs again, loudly and abruptly. “No, sweetheart. I said I didn’t date. Sex and dating don’t always equal one another.”
“Are you a fuck boy?”
He’s so tickled he can barely contain himself. “Me? Not hardly. Look, it’s not difficult for a football player to get laid, but I have standards. I had a friend for a while until the season began, but I’ve been dry for months.”
“Are you a unicorn?” I ask. “You act like going without isn’t a big deal for a dude.”
“I didn’t say it isn’t a big deal for a dude, but I don’t make it my number one priority. What about you? Take the vow of celibacy until marriage?”
“I got duked in the back of a pickup at the end of a dirt road somewhere outside of New Orleans when I was seventeen. It left everything to be desired. I was drunk and ready to get it over.”
He cringes.
“Did he ruin you for good?”
I bat my eyes at him and then shoot him a grin. “Who me?”
“Ha. I can see your middle name is trouble.”
I bump my shoulder into his, and his smile grows wider. “Too bad you’re a football player. You’re actually not a total bore to be around.”
“Thank you? I think it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“No, the nicest thing I ever said to you was, ‘Throw the damn ball’.”
His smile is full of dimples that should be criminal. “Touché.” He bumps his shoulder into mine. “Too bad you don’t date football players. You’re a total babe, and you know football.”
“But you don’t date.”
“I think I’d have to give it a shot with you.”
“You don’t want to date me,” I tell him.
He looks over at me with a sly grin. “Oh, I want to do a lot of things with you, Zhanna. But enlighten me as to why I don’t want to date you.”
“I drool when I sleep.”
“That’s it?”
“No. I also snore.”
His voice lowers a few octaves into the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “I think I can handle you, Coach.”
I’m aware that we’re not talking about dating anymore, at least, not in the strictest sense. And I’m also keenly mindful of the way my body reacts to the depth of his voice and the weight of his words. I swallow hard and turn away, embarrassed and surprised by the way my middle contracts and my nipples harden. God, I’ve never been the girl that needed sex. I’ve had a few partners since I lost my virginity. One was a dead fish, and the other was a graduate student who knew exactly what he was doing. Being that I’ve had great sex, I can see what all the fuss is about, but I don’t go a certain time period and think,God, how will I go on if I don’t get laid? Feeling like I want to jump his leg is out of character for me, and completely inappropriate considering I’m not going to let him in my pants as a reward.
