Page 18 of Final Score

“When I finally get to be inside of you, it’ll be because you want me to, not because you’re pissed at your ex. And Katherine?” I ask, making sure she’s paying attention. “When we do have sex, you’ll be begging me for more.” I whisper against her lips, running a hand across the wetness that’s pooled against her thighs.

“Fuck you, I’m begging now.”

Smirking, I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Not even close.” Kissing her forehead, I slide her off me. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” I laugh as she sits on my bed, arms crossed against her chest, pouting as I hand her the dis-guarded jersey.

“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet.” She responds, taking the jersey from my hands before walking out my bedroom door and back to the party below. Fucking hell, this girl will be the death of me. I’ll be taking a cold shower tonight.

CHAPTER 11

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room, I take a long look at myself in Jenner’s jersey. It falls well past the middle of my thigh. Dang giant. Wearing his jersey doesn’t feel suffocating like wearing Noah’s did. If anything, it feels comforting.

An idea pops into my head as I grab my phone off the dresser and pose, snapping a quick picture. I’m standing in the mirror, exactly the way he wanted me to be the other night. One hand lifts the jersey, showing the tiniest glimpse of the black lingerie I have on underneath. The memory of our make-out session flashes through my mind as I hit send. This is payback for stopping the other day.

Kat: For Good Luck. ;)

Jenner’s response was instant.

Jenner: I was right. It looked better without pants. But I think it looks best on the floor.

Kat: That was payback for stopping the other night

Jenner: Payback, huh? We’ll see about that.

Finishing getting ready, I pair the jersey with ripped jeans and red converse. Keeping my makeup simple, I adjust the black beanie on my head. I certainly looked the part of his girlfriend, no matter how fake it was.

Knocking on Fallon’s bedroom door, I look around her boho chic room. Books, plants, and crystals were everywhere in Fallon’s room. A white comforter was draped over her queen-sized bed, half hidden by a green blanket, and rows of pillows. The main wall behind her bed was painted black. With four large golden picture frames hanging above the headboard. Clothes and shoes were scattered across the floor, a telltale sign she had been struggling to pick an outfit.

“Fallon?” I call from the doorway of her bedroom.

“In here!” Her voice answers from somewhere inside her walk-in closet.

“Did you pick an outfit yet?” I ask, giving her a once over. She had on black ripped jeans, a vintage rolling stones t-shirt, and a denim jacket.

“Yes.” Fallon answers, digging through her jewelry box. “What do you think? It’s in the school colors, at least.”

“It’s very you.”

“Thank you. Besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of those jerseys.” She answered, grabbing a pair of combat boots from the floor. “No offense.”

“None taken. You have never been a sports person. I wouldn’t expect you to take an interest now.” It was a miracle I had convinced her to go to the game at all. Fallon hated most sports and never saw the point of going to games.

“Correction, I like hockey for the fighting. That’s all.”

“You would go for that reason and not the hot guys.” Fallon rolls her eyes in response.

“Do I look ok?” I ask, suddenly nervous. Picking at the strings peeking through a hole in my jeans.

“You look fabulous! While I can’t pull off one of those jerseys to save my life. It suits you.” Fallon reaches over, tapping the back of the jersey. “Especially the name on the back.”

“Shut up.” I answer, covering my face so she can’t see the smile threatening to break through.

“I told you so.”

“Whatever. Are you going to be ready to leave soon?” I ask impatiently.

Fallon pauses, squinting, her head tilting to the side, as she assesses my mood. “What’s wrong?” She asks.

“I’m nervous. This is the first game I’ll be going to as his fake girlfriend. What if I screw it up?”