Page 29 of His Reckless Freshman

Jimmy frowns and I pause, my fork midway to my mouth as I glance at him.

Charli snorts and shakes her head. “Highly unlikely, dudes.”

“Cierra la boca, hermana,” Darian mutters.

She gets another cherry tomato thrown at her, and this time, Sawyer doesn’t go for the intercept. It bounces off her forehead, and she gives her brother the finger before sitting back and saying it straight.

“You guys are going into this season all wrong. You’re expecting to lose because your coach is slacking off and even more disinterested than he was last season. It’s a miracle he still has a job. Seriously, it’s like the athletics department has forgotten about your sorry asses.”

“It’s probably just an excuse not to throw any money our way.” Darian makes a face.

“Whatever. I don’t give a shit about politics. And all you guys should care about is playing the game and having fun with it. You don’t have to be losers. You’re all great players, but you choke as soon as that whistle blows. I’ve seen you guys mess around on the court when there’s zero pressure, and you’re good.” She glances around the table with an incisive look, adding in a point of her fork when she eyes up Jimmy. “You’re really good. And I don’t care what Coach Wiggins does or does not do with you guys. You can kick ass this season. It’s up to you.”

We all stay quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. The lack of response soon becomes awkward, and that’s when Sawyer launches into a friendly debate with Darian over the merits of cream cheese and whether it should go in the actual enchiladas or be spread over the top underneath the salsa roja.

Charli tips her head back with a groan and an eye roll while I look down at my dinner.

I think Sawyer went for the spread technique, and it works great. I love creamy food, so I’m all in with this experiment.

Grabbing another dollop of sour cream, I try to take a little heat out of the dish. My Hispanic roommates like it hot and spicy. My white ass does not.

In saying that, the flavors are great, and I won’t complain about living with someone who’s practically a chef. As far as I’m aware, though, Sawyer has no plans to pursue that as a career. He’s currently studying business and isn’t sure what he wants to do with that degree. I’m pretty sure his main goal in life is to have fun and only do things that he enjoys.

So far, I’ve learned that means: food, girls and low-pressure basketball.

Not a bad list.

I smirk and take another mouthful of food, not regretting for one second my decision to move in with these guys.

9

JOLIE

Regret is an ugly business.

I’ve been living with it ever since I lay down on Kieran’s bed.

Leaving his place was so freaking awkward. Neither of us wanted to acknowledge the fact that I’d just lost my virginity, even though it was totally obvious I had. He couldn’t even look me in the eye, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was grossed out or he felt bad.

My limbs were shaking so much after he rolled off me that I could barely walk to the bathroom. When I tried to clean myself up, my hands were trembling so hard they basically weren’t working, and I had to fight the urge to curl into a lump on the floor and start crying.

Shame lashed me and guilt was a cat-o’-nine-tails, ripping into my metaphorical flesh and turning me into one big festering wound.

I shouldn’t have slept with him. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. Why didn’t I stop it?

Was it just curiosity, or was I actually too scared or embarrassed to admit I was a virgin and having sex on a first date was not something my upbringing condoned?

Ugh. For a girl who usually talks way too much, I certainly let myself down on Friday night.

Seriously.

I’m the worst.

And sex is awful.

I thought it might be romantic and wonderful. Kieran was so sweet over dinner, and sure, I didn’t realize that going back to his place was going to lead to that, but maybe I should have?

I don’t know!