The Locker Room(28)

In my sandals, sweats pushed up to just below my knees, I look like every other college student making their way to the dining hall straight from their dorms. It’s why I don’t feel too out of place meeting Knox in this garb, then again, I’ve seen him almost every Monday in sweats, so I don’t think he’s going to care.

Below the dining hall, there’s a small convenience store that also doubles as an ice cream and smoothie place. I’m assuming this is where Knox meant when he said ice cream, and I guessed right because when I walk through the doors, he’s standing there in a pair of black form-fitting sweatpants, an Under Armour long-sleeved T-shirt that clings to his impressive chest, and his baseball hat on backward. He wears athletic apparel well . . . very well.

When his gaze pulls away from his phone and meets mine, a bright smile stretches across his face. “Hey, Em.” He walks up and pulls me into a hug. Caught a little off guard, I don’t return it right away, but when he squeezes me tighter, I wrap my arms around him, letting my hand land on his muscular back.

Oh my. There’s a whole bunch of hard back there. Neil’s back NEVER felt like that.

“Thanks for meeting up with me.” He pulls away and drags a hand over his face. “I spent the last four hours in the library trying to get this paper done and I’m toasted. Ice cream is the only cure.”

“Are you a big sweets person?” I ask as we walk up to the counter.

“Guilty.” He winks and then looks over the counter and into the cooler. “Can I get cookies and cream in a waffle cone?”

“Sure thing,” the employee says.

“What do you want?” Knox asks, eyeing me.

“I’ll take the strawberry cheesecake in a cake cone.”

“Good choice,” Knox says, reaching for his key card to pay.

Before he can scan it, I block him and say, “I can pay for this one.”

“Nah, my idea, I’m paying.” He scans his card, takes the ice cream for both of us, and heads over to a small table off to the side. When we take a seat, he hands me my cone, but not before taking a bite out of it.

When my mouth falls open in shock, he chuckles and says, “Just a friendly tax.”

I point at his cone. “I want a bite.”

“What? No way.” He shields his cone away from me.

“Knox Gentry, it’s only fair.”

“You’re going to take a giant bite. I need this ice cream more than you.”

I wiggle my finger at him. “Bring it over here. It’s only fair.”

He studies me. “How about this, a bite for your phone number.”

“Ha, nice try.” I shake my head and lean back. “I’m not that desperate for a taste, which can I say, it didn’t slip past me that you got cookies and cream. Are you obsessed with everything Oreos?”

“If you didn’t order the donuts from Frankie’s, I would have gotten the Oreo-encrusted donut.” He takes a lick of his ice cream. “I’m an Oreo lover and will eat them with pretty much everything. You know how some people are obsessed with peanut butter and will even eat it on their burgers? That’s my loyalty with Oreos.”

“That’s kind of . . .”

“Freaky?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “No, I was going to say cute.”

His brows raise. “Yeah, well then, should I tell you I made an Oreo-encrusted steak the other night?”

I motion my hand to tamp him down. “Baby steps, Knox, don’t show me all your freak tendencies just yet.”

He holds his arms out wide. “I’m an open book to you, Em, and what you see is what you get.”

“Should I be scared?”

He leans forward. “Maybe a little.” His smile pretty much destroys any defenses I tried to wear on the way down here. He’s entirely too charming and sweet, then again, so was Neil. It’s the charismatic personalities I need to be cautious around. “I like your sweats by the way, super sexy.”

“It’s the holes, right? Sexy in a way you never thought possible.”

“They’re tempting for sure.”

I cross my legs and say, “I’ve had them since middle school. I can’t seem to ditch them no matter how many holes they have in them. It seems after each laundry cycle, they become more and more comfortable. They’re like a safety blanket at this point.”

“Don’t ever get rid of them.” He takes a bite out of his ice cream and leans back in his chair, observing me. “I like this side of you.”

“What side is that?”

“Casual, not all dressed up. Don’t get me wrong, your skirts have a good hold on my balls, but I like the comfy side of you. Makes me want to take you up to your dorm and cuddle you.”

“Is that supposed to be a pickup line?”

“No.” He pauses. “But if it was, did it work?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“No,” I lie because the thought of taking Knox back to my dorm to cuddle sounds incredibly appealing.

He’s a large guy, broad shoulders with thick muscles wrapped around them, tall, must be at least six two, which is a good height for his sport, and his arms look like cannons, ripped and carved unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine he looked like this in high school, but a few years under Coach Disik’s tutelage and the once boy is a lean and powerful machine.