Page 62 of The Game Plan

“Well, I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you have someone in your life.”

“What about you? You haven’t brought any girls home in a while.”

Greg grimaces. “It’s complicated. Haven’t been in the mood.”

Wes doesn’t date—he barely leaves the house. Barrett will sometimes bring a girl home after a party. Amir has this on and off thing with his girl, though that’s been off for most of the semester as far as I’m aware. Tucker is more interested in his phone than anything else.

It’s weird being the only guy seeing someone. The only guy getting laid on the regular. I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I haven’t hooked up with anyone since freshman year. It just hasn’t been on my radar. Girls don’t go for guys like me.

Except Sam. She likes me. She wants to be with me. Withme. She could have any guy on campus, and she chose me. She wants to go to the sorority formal with me. I still can’t quite believe it.

With some convincing, the guys clear out of the house on Thursday night. I don’t ask where they’re going and they don’t tell me. Wes grunts as he leaves not to burn the house down.

Asshole.

Sam has spent the last two nights in my bed. It’s a dream come true, waking up to her in my arms every morning. I never want to sleep alone again.

Now I know why people made a big deal about dating and relationships. This is why guys are always chasing hookups. It’s like I’m on a constant adrenaline high just from being around her—without the crash. My heart beats a little bit faster when she’s around. My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and I can’t get my words out. Not that that’s all that different from usual. But the brain fog when I catch the scent of her perfume is new. My nerves go haywire when she touches me, when she lets me hold her hand on the way to class, or when she hugs me goodbye.

It’s not just the sex. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex. Now. I love sex with Sam. She’s fucking fantastic in bed and out of it. Her skin smells like heaven. She tastes like honey.

I never want to give her up. Never, ever, ever.

But in order to keep her, I have to prove that I’m worthy of her. I have to show her how I feel about her. I don’t have a lot of money; I can’t take her out to a fancy restaurant. I can barely afford $10 movie tickets for two. My football schedule means I can’t swing a part-time job and still go to school full-time. My parents kindly donate money to my bank account every so often. I have to budget it wisely.

Splurging on a night with Sam isn’t a hardship. Taking the guys to the grocery store with me might have been a mistake.

There is a knock on my door at five past six. Shit. I was supposed to go pick her up. I wipe my hands on my pants—jeans, not sweats, in honor of the occasion—and open the door.

She looks drop dead gorgeous. She’s wearing a puffy coat that goes down to her knees and a forest green scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair is tied back in an elaborate braid, falling neatly to the middle of her back. She’s wearing makeup, more than usual, emphasizing her dark eyes and her pouty mouth.

“Hey,” she says, breaking into a wide smile, and my heart tries to beat its way out of my chest.

Tugging her inside, I wrap her into my arms and kiss her thoroughly. She responds to me eagerly.

“Mm. What’s that for?”

“Missed you.” I tug at the zipper of her coat, hanging it up beside mine on the rack. “Haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

“It’s been far too long,” she agrees seriously, winding her arms around my neck to kiss me again. I push her back against the door and take my fill, my tongue slipping into her mouth to tangle with hers. I can’t get enough. I can never have enough of her.

She presses her body against mine, bringing us flush together. Her breasts brush against my chest, and I can’t resist the urge to touch her. There are too many clothes in the way. I want her naked. Now. Now, now, now.

I kiss her one last time and pull away. I’m gratified to hear her whine of disappointment.

“Dinner first,” I announce, taking her hand. I lead her into the small dining room, where the table is set for two. Amir went all out with the candles; there are at least five different shapes and sizes lit around the table. Tucker couldn’t decide between the different bouquets of flowers so he picked four. I hand one to her. “For you.”

She dips her head to smell the sunflowers. “Mm. Thank you.”

Wes contributed the dessert, a chocolate cream pie—she’s mentioned it’s her favorite whenever it’s served in the dining hall. Tonight’s menu definitely doesn’t fit in with our diet plan. I’m not playing on Saturday, which still rankles; she’s in her off-season. We can have a cheat meal or three.

“Dinner will be ready in just a minute.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“I’ve got it covered.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. She smells so good, like vanilla and cherries and something else uniquely Sam. I love it. “How was your day? Your poli sci paper went okay?”

She sighs. “It’s over, at the very least.”

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