I Bet You(27)

I shake my head. “No, we’re past that. I meant what I said.” I pause. “I don’t hold grudges, Ryker. Starting right now, you and I have a clean slate. Friends.”

“Friends, huh?”

I smirk. “It’s better than enemies.”

“You do have my workbook.” He eyes the item in question as it sits on my desk.

“And thank you again. I owe you.” I smile, and his dimple flashes at me. I get a high, like a rush of coke, straight to my head—not that I’ve ever done drugs, mind you, it’s just…he brings out uncharted emotions in me, little by little.

He nods his head toward Connor, who’s glancing over his shoulder at us. “He’s looking lonely over there, and maybe a little jealous that we’re talking. You best remedy that after class.”

But…

I nod, and we turn back to Professor White.

Later, when class is dismissed, Connor walks over and offers to escort me to my creative writing class. I falter, part of me having hoped Ryker and I could talk more, but he doesn’t wait around for me to decide; instead he runs his gaze between Connor and me, gives me a short nod and heads out the door.





Penelope



Charisma and I sit inside a booth at Sugar’s. It’s my dinner break, and she popped in to keep me company. We eat burgers and fries as we strategize on how I’m going to figure out how to play pool.

I take a long drag from my soda and rub my forehead. “Why did I lie to him?”

She shrugs. “I assume because you like him and wanted to impress him?”

I nod, but there’s a niggling in my head, a small voice that’s beginning to grow stronger. Is Connor what I want? I’m not an advocate of lying, ever, and yet I started us off that way. It doesn’t feel right.

She narrows her eyes at me as she stuffs a fry in her mouth. “What about Ryker? He’s hot.”

“There is no me and Ryker.”

She looks at me.

“What?” I say. “I don’t do football players.”

She thinks on this, her finger tapping her chin. “What I find interesting is that Ryker chose to kiss you to make Connor jealous. There are a dozen other things he could have done, like told Connor how nice and sweet you are.”

I shrug. “He had a gut feeling and just went with it, I guess.”

She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Listen, I have gut feelings too, and mine is telling me Ryker has his eye on you. He watches you.” Her gaze darts over to the football table in the back. “In fact, don’t turn your head, but he’s looking right now. And his face is so dang serious.”

I stiffen, and it’s everything I can do to not turn my head. It’s been a couple of days since we had our talk in calculus, and it feels as if he’s giving me space.

I lean in over the table. “What’s he doing?”

Charisma’s gaze brushes across the restaurant, lingers in their direction, and then comes back to me.

“Well?” I ask

She shrugs. “Looking hot and cocky as usual. Definitely a PILF.” Player I’d Like to Fuck. “Not me,” she adds, “but you know…the rest of the world.”

“Who’s next to him? Jersey chaser?”

She grimaces. “There is a jersey chaser there, but he’s not into her. I’ve been scoping him out periodically and he’s barely looked at her. Blaze is on the other side talking his ear off.”

“He didn’t ask for me to be his waitress tonight,” I say, almost to myself.

“Interesting. No more gar?on?”

I shrug. Honestly, I was a little disappointed.

She looks at me. “By the way, remember the guy I hooked up with at the toga party last year?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty sure it was Blaze.”

I snort and nearly choke on a fry. After taking a long drink from my soda, I say, “How do you know?”

A sheepish grin crosses her face. “Just something he said. Apparently, he was also at that party and can’t remember much of it.” She gets a faraway look on her face. “All I can recall about him is this thing he did with his tongue—”

I hold my hand up. “Just stop right there. I want to be able to talk to him in the future without picturing what you’re about to describe.”

She giggles.

“And back to Ryker…I’m not his type, so nope. You’re wrong.”

Charisma thinks. “Hmmm, if you say so. But you did just bring him up again.”

I tuck more fries in my mouth.

She sighs and smirks down at her curves. “I wish I could eat like you do.”

“At least you have boobs.” I wave at my chest area. “Underneath this vintage Buffy the Vampire Slayer shirt is a sixty dollar push-up bra. Thank you, magic brassiere.” I look around the room and lean in. “With the cutlets stuffed in this contraption, everyone thinks I’m at least a solid B cup.”

“Stop it. You have tits,” she says.

“Correction. I have titlets.”

She giggles. “That’s not even a word! How do you come up with this stuff?”

I tap my head. “But in my stories, the heroine always has big boobs.” I twist my lips. “Maybe I should get a boob job.”