The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)(68)

Evidently, so am I.




Sebastian




I’m drenched with sweat.

Hot.

Keyed up, I walk, arms braced behind my head, circling the mat at a slow pace to cool off. Slow my heart rate.

Every match is a high akin to riding a shockwave of adrenaline and testosterone, my body conditioned, primed to perfection, and powered on high, slow to decompress.

So I walk.

Out of the locker room, hair still damp from a quick shower, I pace the long corridor of the athletics building. Return to the gym and avoid the custodians rolling up the equipment, despite the crowd.

I walk, measuring every step. Sidestep school spirit and concession debris—poster board signs, foam fingers, streamers, popcorn.

Measure every cleansing breath, until—

James.

She’s being led through the throng of fans by blonde-haired Fuck Buddy—sorry, Allison—who’s strong-arming my…who’s strong-arming James by the forearm. ‘Led’ is too loose a term; she’s being hauled toward me, and grudgingly.

I slow my gait and grin. Chug from the water bottle clenched in my grip.

Watch as Allison gives her one final nudge. Jameson stumbles forward, head hanging low, pulling at the yellow cardigan layered over her black Iowa tee shirt. Snug boot-cut jeans. A low, sleek ponytail draped over her left shoulder secured by a thin yellow ribbon. A ribbon tied with a prim little bow.

A f*cking bow.

I hone in on that bow, dissect it in the most erotic way possible.

Something about it suddenly makes me f*cking stupid. Gets me hot in a way no tight, low-cut top or skimpy panties could. I imagine untying that bow and watching it drift to the floor; I imagine dragging it across her bare breasts.

A startling surge of adrenaline comes back full force and before either of us know it, I’m pushing through the crowd, closing the distance between us. My arms wrap around her narrow waist. I effortlessly sweep her off the ground. Twirl her around. Press my mouth over her startled lips. They’re warm and pouty and juicy—exactly how I like them.

I suck on her lower lip and tug with a growl.

My hands crave her, itching to roam her body. Run under her conservative sweater. Untie that carefully tied ribbon.

Instead, I lower Jameson until her feet are planted firmly on the ground.

“Woo, oh boy!” Jameson fans herself with the program in her hand. “Rule number twelve: no manhandling in public. You have no self-control.” She breathes.

“Good luck with that one,” I quip, going in for another kiss, because there’s just something about Jameson Clark I can’t keep off my damn mind. I cannot stop thinking about her. Cannot keep my hands from touching her.

Literally.

And Christ—I don’t want to.

“Ready for dinner?”

She attempts a nod and I grin.

I’m riding this roller coaster all the way to the f*cking end.





Jameson: I don’t know if I told you, but thank you for the tickets to the match. And thank you for dinner.

Oz: You’re welcome. Knowing you were in the crowd tonight gave my adrenaline the biggest rush; I can’t believe how fast I pinned McPherson.

Jameson: Who’s McPherson?

Oz: The kid from Wisconsin. I was on fire tonight, and it’s because you were there watching me.

Jameson: You really were incredible.

Oz: You know what else is incredible? Your lips. I could have stood on your porch tonight and made out with you forever.

Jameson: That was really sweet…and hormonal.

Oz: Hormonal? Nah, that’s not it at all. It’s you. If you said ‘Oz, get in your car and come climb through my bedroom window’, I would do it without hesitating.

Jameson: My bedroom is on the second story…

Oz: Exactly.

Jameson: LOL what else would you do?

Oz: The better question is, what wouldn’t I do?





Sebastian




Oz: Hey sexy.

Jameson: Sexy? You talking to me?! *points to self*

Oz: Who else would I be talking to?

Jameson: Hmmm, good question…

Oz: What are you up to?

Jameson: Just getting ready for girls night. My roommates want to Netflix and chill.

Oz: You’re definitely staying home tonight?

Jameson: Yeah. Hayley wants to watch Ten Things I Hate About You. She’s hating on men right now—some guy won’t text her back. Why, you asking for a reason? ;)



Damn. I was hoping maybe…

I palm the phone in my hand and stare down at it, oddly disappointed that she’s staying home with her friends. It’s been days since I’ve seen her; work and school and wrestling have driven a wedge into my social calendar, not to mention whatever obligations she’s had, and—

I miss her.

I miss her like f*cking crazy.



Jameson: Now that we know I’m having girls night, what does Oz Osborne have planned for tonight after his big WIN against Princeton?

Oz: Looks like I’m staying in, too. Roommates are gone and I have the place to myself tonight. Maybe I’ll watch the MMA fight on HBO. Maybe I’ll study. idk

Jameson: Must be nice having the house to yourself. What does that feel like?! The only time I’m ever alone is during the day when my roomies are at class.