Page 12 of Roughing the Princess

“Preseason, huh? Interesting. We don’t have anything like that in my line of work.”

Yeah, she desperately wanted to be spanked. My phone buzzed again.

“Always gotta bring the big guns,” she texted.

I smiled. “Oh, I’m bringing the big guns. And I’ll be scoring a touchdown for you. Make sure you’re watching.”

No response.

I kept staring at my phone.

I’d made a few jokes with her. About meeting up. Or doing a video call. She always skirted the subject. Or suddenly had something she needed to go do. Or she’d just stop texting me for a few hours and then come back with a new subject.

Mav would have said it was because she was actually a 60-year-old man. But I knew it was her. She was shy yet bold. Sarcastic yet sinful. God, I wanted to lick every inch of her skin.

“Game time,” Mav said and slapped his hand on my back. “Ready?”

I cleared my throat and dropped my cell phone into my bag. “Ready.”

He pulled me away before I had a chance to check it one more time. I wanted Tova’s eyes on me. I wanted to know she was watching. I wanted her to know that I liked it.

But I didn’t know if she was.

Something about the thought that she might be though? I played harder. Ran faster. And when Mav threw me a pass in the endzone, I leapt up and caught it above the defender’s head, pulling it safely against my chest.

Touchdown!

Before anyone on my team could start celebrating, I dropped the ball, bent over, and grabbed my knee. I knew the cameras were zooming in close, wondering what was wrong. They’d already be focused on me. But I really wanted them to zoom in.

After a few seconds of pretending I hurt my knee, I winked at the camera and shimmed. Because I knew it would make her laugh.

“What the fuck,” Mav said and shoved my shoulder. “I thought you were hurt. The knees, man. Don’t joke about the knees.”

“Attention. Whore,” Jasper said between coughs. But then he high-fived me for the touchdown.

I looked back at the cameras. Was she watching? Had she laughed? Or was I thinking about her way more than she was thinking about me?

***

I wrapped my towel around my waist, sat down on the bench, and grabbed my phone.

I had tons of texts waiting from Tova. And one from my mom telling me I was hilarious. She got me.

I read through the ones from Tova:

“Oh my God, Talon!”

“I can’t even watch this.”

“This is why I don’t like football!”

That was news to me.But I couldn’t stop smiling at her freaking out. She cared. I kept reading.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I thought you were actually hurt!”

“I freaking hate you, Talon.”

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