AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Who is it, yo?” asks Marshall from across the way.
“I heard she’s the girl from that lacrosse team party about a month back,” Dex says. “The redhead wearing that killer black tank top.”
At this, all the guys who were there instantly nod in understanding. Hell, Anna’s top obviously made an impression.
Dex looks around at his now captive audience. “The way Baylor was watching her, you’d think she was the championship trophy.”
“Naw, Dex,” says Diaz. “You can’t eat no trophy. And Battle most definitely looked hungry.”
Snickers break out. Jesus, was everyone watching me make a fool of myself at that party?
Rolondo whistles low. “Must be one fine girl to get Battle worked up.”
“She looks like Christina Hendricks,” Dex adds helpfully.
Rolondo shakes his head. “Man, ain’t no one on campus got tits that big. Believe me, I’d know.”
“Watch your mouths,” I snap. I don’t care if I have to take down the whole bus. No one is discussing Anna that way. Even if Rolondo is technically correct, Anna is nowhere near that big... Shit. I officially hate these guys.
Rolondo holds up his hands in defense. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean no disrespect.” Because if there is one golden rule among men, it’s that you do not talk smack about a guy’s girl or his mom. “I’m just sayin’, you mention Christina Hendricks, and I’m thinking about one thing.”
“And I didn’t say anything about your girl’s ti—breasts,” Dex insists. “I said she kind of looked like the lady. As in has a noticeable resemblance. Facial resemblance.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose is clearly useless against this burgeoning headache.
“Yo, don’t you think she looks more like the Black Widow in The Avengers?”
A round of appreciative agreement rumbles through the bus.
“That movie was tight,” Simms interjects. “Remember when the Hulk smashed the shit out of Loki like he was some rag doll? Damn, I’d kill to do that on the field. Take some running back and bam, bam, bam!”
“Bet you sorry you ain’t green too.” Rolondo throws an empty Pringles can at the Hulk-loving defensive end, which he bats away with a scowl before retaliating with a half-full water bottle.
“Whatever she looks like, our boy Drew is whipped.” That from Marshall. Bastards. All of them.
“Why don’t you just call her, man?” someone shouts from behind. Jenkins. I compile a mental list for revenge purposes.
“Oh, honey,” intones Thompson—another smart-ass, “I miss you soo muuuch!”
When they start making kissing noises, I do the only thing I can. “Marshall’s girl gave him a pink teddy bear, and he carries it around in his bag,” I shout.
“Betraying bastard!” bellows poor Marshall. But it’s too late for him. He goes down in a tackle of guys as he tries to defend his backpack.
Chaos ensues until the assistant defensive team’s coach stands up at the front of the bus and settles everyone down with the threat of extra drills. Yeah, I love these guys. I’m smug and satisfied until Dex leans in, speaking only to me. “If you’re really into this girl, lock that shit up. Lock it up tight and concentrate on your game.”
And like that, my bubble bursts. What the fuck am I doing with Anna?
Anna
He’s not here. He’s at an away game. Florida. This is how far I’ve sunk. I know his schedule. And I’m sitting in my room at ten o’clock on a Saturday night instead of going out with Iris and George. I’d begged off, using a need-to-read excuse. I love curling up with a good book. Except tonight it was a lie. My eReader is off and sits on the end of my bed where I tossed it earlier in a huff of irritation. A girl can only read the same line so many times before giving up the ghost.
I’m so restless my legs twitch, which only adds to my annoyance when my bare legs slide over the comforter and little zings of feeling run along my sensitized skin. Thoughts of the things Drew has done to me on this very bed invade my mind and make me flop back with a groan. Shit.
Shoving my face into a pillow doesn’t help. Nothing does.
I should do something, something physical, go for a walk—because I hate running—or try those core-strengthening vids that Iris is addicted to. A thousand sit-ups sounds about right. I’m rummaging for a sports bra when my phone dings. And my whole body freezes. But not my heart. That pounds with want and glee.
I walk with admirable calm and leisure to my bedside table where my phone lies.
