Playing Hard to Get(35)

Thinking about her.

That’s why I have a grin on my face. Why practices have been going well. Why I’ve been sleeping at night instead of tossing and turning and why I got a nine out of ten points on the opening paragraph for my essay.

It’s all thanks to Jo Jo.

No one else knows about us and I like it that way. My hands are itching to get a hold of her again soon. Maybe even tonight. I haven’t talked to her since our last “session,” and I’m okay with it. The memories of kissing her are on replay, like an endless loop in my brain, and I’ve gone over the moment countless times already.

The feel of her pressed against me. Sitting on my lap. Her lips on mine. Her tongue tangled with mine. Her fingers in my hair. Her hands clinging to my shoulders. The sounds she makes when I kiss her…

I’m eager to see her again. Maybe even desperate.

And I never feel desperate over a woman. Ever.

“Something happened.” This comes from Derek, who’s making his way toward us with a determined look on his face. “You got laid.”

“I did not.” I school my features, trying for impassive. “I’d tell you if I got laid.”

“Would you, though?” Derek practically shoves his face in mine, his gaze narrowed. “I’d keep it a secret too if it saved me a grand.”

“He didn’t get laid.” Cam shoves Derek away from me, shaking his head. “I’d know it if he did.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

“We live together, asshole. Remember?” Cam turns to me. “And I haven’t seen him sneak anybody in lately.”

“That’s because I haven’t. There is no sex happening here. My body is a sacred temple.” I wave a hand at said body, meaning every word I say because it’s true.

I didn’t have sex with anyone. I kissed a woman for about an hour. That’s it. Haven’t done something like that in a long time, and it was thoroughly enjoyable. I forgot how fuckin’ great kissing is. When that’s all you can do, you really throw your all into it, and that’s what I did with Joanna.

She’s a good kisser. She tastes delicious. Smells good too.

“A sacred temple.” Derek shakes his head. “What a crock of shit.”

“Hey. It’s been untouched for the last two months.” Sort of true. “That’s pretty fucking sacred for me.”

Cam laughs. “He’s not wrong.”

I don’t take offense to what Cam says because he’s right.

Once we’re suited up, Coach Mattson gives us a long-winded speech about trying our best, working hard to stay on top and ends it with a rousing, “let’s go kick some ass!” which is exactly what we hear every Saturday before a game, but it always works.

We run out onto the field minutes later, the announcer shouting over the intercom, music playing loudly and the crowd screaming their approval. It’s a crisp and sunny fall afternoon and it looks like every freaking seat in the house is full.

I love that we get so much love from the fans. That they’re proud of us and they turn out every week, whether it’s a home or away game. Makes me realize I’m not only trying to win for myself and my team, but for the people in the stands too. I want them to be proud of us.

Proud of me.

I’m scanning the seats closer to the field, specifically the section where I gave Joanna her tickets. My gaze lingers on each face as we draw closer, searching for her when I spot—

“I see Blair showed up.” This comes from Cam, who’s jogging right beside me.

I glance over at him, slowing my pace, as does he. “I didn’t give her a ticket.”

“Yeah, I know. But I did.”

“What? Why?”

“She asked me for one.” He shrugs.

“And why didn’t she ask me for one?” I’m offended, which is stupid. “When did you see her?”

“I don’t know why she didn’t ask you. I ran into her last night and we got to talking. She mentioned going to the game and sitting in the student section, and I told her I could get her a better seat, so I did.”

“Where did you two talk?” I had no idea Cam and Blair spent any time together, let alone enough time for them to chat and Cam offer her a ticket to the game.

“I went out last night with a couple of the guys. Remember?”

Oh right. Cam asked if I wanted to go, but I stayed in, which is unheard of for me. But the last thing I wanted to do was go to a couple of bars and fight off the groupies on a Friday night. I lounged in bed instead, attempted to watch a movie on Netflix but passed out about thirty minutes in. I woke up to the credits, snapped my laptop shut and fell back asleep.

“So you saw Blair at a bar?” I don’t like the idea of my sister hanging out at bars. She’s so damn sweet, a total creeper might take advantage of her, and she’d have no clue until she was in too deep.

“Well, yeah. She’s twenty-one, and she was with her roommates. Don’t worry, I kept watch over her,” he reassures me when I send him a skeptical look.

Relief floods me that my friend took care of her. I trust him more than anyone else. He’d never let anything happen to Blair.

“Thanks for that. And thanks for getting her a ticket.” We both swivel our heads in Blair’s direction, catching her watching us, a faint smile curving her lips. She lifts her hand in a little wave and we both wave in return, my gaze lifting, snagging on a familiar face right behind her.