Page 46 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 27

Oh boy, I’d gotten so wrapped up in my whipped-creamed car and then Micah himself that I hadn’t had time to think about my spirit girl duties until after he’d left last night. So here I am, racing around again. It’s all good, though, because I have a plan.

Ducking into the little drugstore on the corner, I pull three bags of Starburst candies off the rack—three because Micah’s favorites are the orange and lemon ones, and unfortunately, they don’t make bags of those flavors alone. I know this from the form he’d filled out at the beginning of the year that the advising teacher for the spirit squad finally left for me in the library the other day.

Pulling into the school parking lot, I rip open the bags, glad to see there are enough of the flavors he likes to make him two treat bags, one for each locker. I’d stayed up until one in the morning finishing the signs for his lockers. Hopefully, I can pull off doing this in secret again. Now it’s just fun for me to hide it from him and not because I think it’s a problem. Except for Alora. Yeah. Better keep this on the down low for now. I don’t want to incite her wrath—as if I haven’t already.

The little chirp from my phone has me pulling it out to check my messages.

Daph’s Dream Dick:Don’t forget to ask Roudebush what my score was on the test.

Daph’s Dream Dick:I really do think I kicked that test’s ass.

Smiling to myself, I decide to tease him.

Me:Oh. I forgot about that.

Daph’s Dream Dick:Did not.

Me:I take it you still want me to come?

Daph’s Dream Dick:I definitely still want you to come. Again and again.

Daph’s Dream Dick:On my face.

He did not just say that. One glance in my rearview mirror tells me my face is beet red. I should have known better than to mess with him, because Micah is way out of my league when it comes to flirting and innuendo. My legs clamp together involuntarily as the rush of dampness hits my panties.

Daph’s Dream Dick:But if you were referring to the game and the party, that’d be a yes.

Daph’s Dream Dick:Daph?

Me:I’m here.

Me:Just trying to figure out if it’s obvious that I’m blushing really hard now.

Daph’s Dream Dick:It’s going to be fun finding all the ways to make you blush.

Blowing out a breath, I pull myself together, gather my things, and step out of my car. Once again, there aren’t many cars in the lot. I hurry inside and make quick work of getting the sign up on Micah’s locker in the main hallway and tucking a baggie of lemon-flavored Starburst on the shelf at eye level so he’ll see it. Closing the locker door as quietly as I can, I hear voices coming in my direction. I freeze for a second, then scamper down the hallway toward the gym.

Outside the locker room, I pause for a second, listening. When I don’t hear any hint of anyone, I proceed inside, make my way to Micah’s locker, and set my things down on the bench. The sign for his gym locker is pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself. Last night, I’d drawn a caricature of him running with the ball, complete with his number twelve jersey. It looks a lot like the star tight end—long legs, broad shoulders, and a literal tight end. I chuckle even as I struggle with his locker dial. I finally get it open and tuck the baggie of orange Starburst inside, close it, and rotate back to the bench to grab the tape and sign. I’m just about finished when someone enters the room. Micah’s locker is in a spot where I’m not immediately visible, but— Crap! I need to get out of here before somebody starts taking off clothes or something else equally mortifying.

Scrambling, I secure the sign to the locker, throw the roll of tape back into my book bag, and hike it over my shoulder so I can make my escape.

My heart hammers behind my rib cage, and I strain to listen again. Whoever is here seems to have stopped and opened a locker. I can hear the unmistakable sound of clothing being shucked off. Oh. Oh no. No, no, no!

My pulse races. Can I hide? Can I somehow sneak past without anyone knowing I’m here? Shit! Peeking around the corner, I see two huge football players—Shayne and Carter—in varying states of undress and another, Derek, who I actually have a class with, has just walked in and dropped his duffel on the bench.

Thinking only to flee, my sweaty hand grips my bag strap. The problem is I have to walk past them to get out of here. I hide my eyes behind my free hand, and slowly begin to creep forward.

When a big hand encircles my bicep, I freeze in place, and my eyes squeeze shut. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” I gasp.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I don’t know which guy the voice came from, but it doesn’t matter. The gruffness, the attitude, the manhandling—it all reminds me of that day at the park—and suddenly, I can’t draw a breath.

This is my worst nightmare coming to life. Huge guys with big muscles, capable of doing whatever the hell they want. Clawing, heart-clenching, mind-numbing fear grips me.

“She’s flipping the fuck out, man.”

Yes. Yes, I am.I’m shaking so hard I can’t even put one foot in front of the other to get myself out of here. It’s like my feet are welded to the floor. And I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to because this guy won’t let go of my arm.

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