Scoring Wilder(41)

"I saw your tattoos," I joked, pushing off his bed and stepping closer to the closet. He peered over his shoulder at me and smirked. Then he turned fully and I saw the emblem on the front of his shirt. Superman.

He’d chosen the shirt on purpose. He was now Superman. SuperSuperHotMan… and I was Supergirl. We were the freaking cutest thing I’d ever seen. Okay, mostly he brought the cute factor. I was just the sidekick.

"Then it's only fair that you show me yours. Unless you were bluffing?" He raised his brow. He was referring to my tattoo.

I couldn’t believe he remembered my line I’d used on him the other week. The night we’d officially met.

"I wasn't bluffing," I smiled gently, taking another step closer to him. "Do you actually want to see it?"

The right side of his mouth quirked up in confidence. "If you can show me without taking that skirt off.”

I’m sorry, did my uterus just call out to him or am I hearing things?

I cocked a brow and bit back my smirk as I twisted to the side. My fingers found the hem of my SuperGirl shirt and I pulled it up along with the bottom of my bra. My small tattoo was hidden beneath it in small black calligraphy. I'd had my mom write it in her perfect scrolly handwriting, and they'd transcribed her words onto my skin. The whole thing was barely two inches, running horizontally along my ribcage a few inches below my breast.

Liam stepped forward and bent down to get a closer look. His warm breath hit my skin and I realized he could see the very bottom of my breast from his angle.

He reached out and dragged the pad of his finger gently beneath the tattoo. "She believed she could, so she did." Goose bumps bloomed beneath his touch and I shivered as his dark voice read my tattoo.

He nodded, lingering on the text for a moment longer before standing up.

“I’ve heard that phrase before, but it really fits you.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

"I think I like that more than all of my tattoos," he noted with a small smirk.

I disagreed, along with all of the U.S. female population, but I held my tongue.

"You don't seem like a tattoo type of girl."

I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"

He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and then a second later shook his head. "You're young." Bullshit. That wasn't the reason, but he wasn't going to give me the real one.

"It's my mom's handwriting."

He nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at where my shirt now covered up the ink.

"You have to show me at least one of yours. I didn’t get a good look while you were changing."

His dark eyes pierced me for a moment before he reached around and pulled the back of his shirt up. Without thinking, I reached to help, pushing the soft fabric over his skin. I had to fight the urge to push it all the way off the top of his head.

At the center of his left shoulder blade, depicted in black ink, were the words "Veni Vidi Vici" entwined within the Olympic rings.

"Ah, of course you had to get an Olympics tattoo. I like it," I said, tracing my finger over the words. Before I finished, he stepped forward, out of my grasp, and pulled his shirt down.

"C'mon. Let's go get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I protested, not ready to leave the privacy and simplicity of his quiet room. In here we were just two people talking. Out there we were two people the world wanted to condemn.

"I am," he winked, and then walked past me. "And you should be. You're working out too hard and it's starting to show. Have you upped your diet?"

Oh god, what was it with guys and proper food intake? We had a nutritionist on the team and I ate healthy enough.

I didn't answer his question. Instead, I flexed my arm and grinned. It was toned but still pretty skinny. Liam laughed, stepped forward, and wrapped his fingers around my arm, pretending to feel my muscle.

“Does this look like the arm of a girl who doesn’t eat enough?” I winked like Popeye.

"Good thing you aren't a defender," he laughed.

"What!" I argued, dropping my arm. "Becca is a defender and she's my size!"

He nodded and moved toward his door. "True. But I'm not making out with Becca in dark living rooms, so I don’t have to worry about her well-being," he challenged, flicking the light off in his room and leaving me standing in the dark. I had no choice but to follow him out. The bastard.

"She'd never have you!" I yelled, running to follow him. Then I blushed when I saw him already standing at the end of the hall with Penn and Becca.

"Kinsley!" Becca exclaimed, jumping forward onto me. I wasn't prepared to catch her weight, so I toppled backward, landing with a thud on my ass and jamming my elbow into the ground.

"Ouch! Get off me, you mongrel." I couldn't decide if I should cry or laugh, so I just yelled with a smile on my face like a weirdo.

Penn shook his head and reached down to grab Becca, who had obviously had another cup of punch after we'd finished ours a while ago.

"You're supposed to be SuperGirl! You were supposed to catch me!" Becca stomped.

I pretended to spin kick her. She laughed and spun around and soon we were kicking and punching down the hallway away from the boys. Becca brought out the weird in me.