You and Everything After (Falling #2)(35)

But here is why football is better than baseball—just for tonight. If this were a baseball game, I would have to stick it out. My competitive nature and the promise of hope—of a comeback—would keep me here. I hate missing a good comeback. But there is no hope. Not even an ounce. So I am free to leave, with Cass, to go to her room and do a shitload of dirty things to her that I have been thinking about pretty much non-stop for the last hour. So for tonight—and just tonight—I thank football.

Thank you, football. You are king.

Cass has just walked back over to sit next to me. I think she wanted to try to ease Rowe’s worry one last time, but from the looks of things, I don’t think it worked. Rowe has completely shrunk down in her seat, and Nate is staring at her, his hand over his mouth like he doesn’t know what to do. He knows…he’s just afraid.

I hope Cass isn’t backing out. When she sits down next to me again, I pull her close, reminding her, like a damn dog humping her leg. “I think this game is pretty much a lock. You?” I ask her, my lips close to her ear, close enough that I give the bottom of her ear a tiny tug with my teeth. Her lips quiver when I do.

Yeah, she’s still in.

“Let’s go,” she says, sliding her hand sensually across my chest as she stands and steps around me. I almost lose it right then and there.

“Mom, Dad—see you guys tomorrow at dinner,” I say, not wanting to linger. Our timing could not have been better as my parents were in the middle of a discussion with another couple. They pause just long enough to say goodbye and shake Cass’s hand, then we’re out the door.

The trip back to our dorm feels three times as far as the way here. Cass is making small talk. It’s cute. I can tell she’s nervous about this whole thing.

“Do you have a dog at home?” she asks when we get to the front door to our dorm. This is her fifth random question, and I’ve indulged every single one.

“…Yes, I can drive a stick shift. It just has to have a hand clutch…No, I’ve never had a Mohawk. But if you think it’s cute, you can shave my head. I don’t care.... I pierced my right ear in high school. But I don’t like wearing an earring. I’m a lazy shit, so the hole closed up.... My favorite color is green. No, blue! No, green. Monty Python joke, lame. Sorry.”

Finally, we get to the elevator. “We don’t have a dog. My dad’s allergic. Breaks my mom’s heart, because she loves animals. She visits the neighbor’s dog all the time,” I say, pulling her back on my lap as the elevator doors close. “Now, why are you so chatty?” I ask, tugging her hair loose from the tie that’s kept it in place on top of her head. Her braid unravels into these blond waves, and I swear to god she looks like a mermaid.

“I need to put you in water,” I say out loud, my fingers finding their way to the base of her neck and then digging deeply into her soft, sunshine hair.

“You…you have a thing for water?” Her eyebrow quirks up at me, and I laugh.

“No, sorry. You just look like a mermaid. I like this,” I say, pulling a few strands of her hair in front of us and holding the waves out for her to see.

“Oh,” she smiles, her face showing her shyness. “Thanks. It’s how I hide being a ninja.”

“Right, good secret identity. No one would suspect a mermaid,” I say, my teeth grazing her neck as I let my smile form against her skin. “You even smell like sunshine. How is that possible?”

When the doors open, she tries to stand, but I keep her firmly in place on my lap and push us forward. This is why I workout so much. Here is the payoff, right here. I can do these two things at once.

We hit the wall a few times on our way to her room, mostly because I can’t seem to get my mouth off of her damn neck. I finally relent and let her get to her feet when we’re at her door, and she drops her keys trying to unlock too quickly.

“Sorry, I’m a bit of a jumble,” she giggles. She really is nervous.

“Relax. I’m not in a race,” I say, reminding my lower region to behave—for now.

She smiles and takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to the door, this time slipping the key in easily and letting us both inside. She drops her purse on her desk and heads to her closet, drawing the door closed almost the entire way, but leaving a small sliver of space where I catch her dress slip from her body and see the curve of her breast. Yep, that’s not helping me keep downstairs in check. My dick is pretty much at full attention now, ready to war with my conscience, which is not in great shape—it doesn’t get a workout much.

Shit.

She comes out in a small white tank top and black cotton shorts. She’s barely wearing anything, and the fabric is so thin, it practically glides over her features.

“I wanted to be comfortable. I hope that’s okay,” she says, sitting down on her bed and folding her legs over one another, like we’re about to play UNO.

“I’m good with comfortable,” I smile, suddenly unsure of my next move. Fuck, maybe we really should play UNO. Looking around, I’m not sure where I fit. Do I sit next to her? Do I just start kissing her and pulling her clothes off? Do I take my shirt off? Or does she just want to talk? I usually don’t care—and, normally, I’ve been at a party…I’ve already had the talk with the girl about how I don’t do girlfriends and shit, and she usually says she’s fine with that, and there’s whiskey, and bad tastes, because sometimes the chick smokes. I hate smoke. And there are hints that I’ll regret sleeping with the girl. But none of that applies here. I am a fish out of water.