Looking to Score(40)

“Hey there, Stud. Word around town is that you just won a football game. How does that make you feel?” I joked and held my fist up to his face like a microphone. The entire locker room went nuts when I mentioned the win. I didn’t understand it before, but now it was easy to see why people celebrated for days.

Oakley leaned in close so that only I could hear him and asked in a low throaty voice, “So you think I’m a stud?” His hot breath on my neck sent an instant wave of heat up my entire body.

“Uh, no. I mean yes, on the field. You’re a stud on the field,” I said lamely. “Have you done your interviews yet? How about that party? We don’t want to leave Kelseigh hanging!”

“I like the way you think, Solver. Interviews went great. I answered a couple of questions, but since Hanley broke a school record, they’re more interested in him tonight.” I frowned. My PR brain was already working to think up ways to make the media interested in Oakley. “Let me grab a quick shower, and Coach wants to chat for a minute, then we can go!” he added.

I was already hot and bothered. Picturing Oakley and his vagina miner in the shower was not going to help. I needed a distraction. Most of the other guys were already in the showers, so I pulled out my phone to keep me occupied. I texted Dad to make sure they got to a hotel okay and then looked at my calendar for tomorrow. All I had was a late breakfast with my parents and then seeing them off to the airport. I opened YouTube and saw that there were a few new mantra videos in my favorite channels. Huh. I hadn’t watched one in days.

I had done such a good job of distracting myself that I didn’t even notice when Oakley walked over to me. He cleared his throat and bowed deeply, extending his hand to me. “M’lady, are you ready to go?” Weirdo.

I didn’t take his hand. I was too busy staring at him now. Oakley looked good. His hair was effortlessly styled. His shirt was way too tight. His jeans hugged his long legs. I felt tiny standing next to him. “I’m taking you to dinner first,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“I’m hungry,” Oakley explained with a smile. “I'm always starving after a game. And since our date that wasn’t really a date was interrupted by Dale, I figured we could grab a bite to eat.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Oakley cupped my cheeks.

Oh yeah, this would definitely get some curious stares. The locker room was still a flutter of activity. Some players were getting prepped for ice baths. Some were getting cuts and bruises tended to. One was having his groin stretched. And I wish that were a euphemism, because the way the middle-aged trainer was up in his no-no zone just looked wrong.

“I’m taking you out, Solver. I’ll even go over the interview with you so you can pretend it’s work.” He pulled me out of the main area of the lockers and toward the outside hallway. All of the coeds and press had filtered out, so we were alone.

I bit my lip, and his dark eyes zeroed in on the movement. Fuck. Was it hot in here or just me? “Oakley,” I said with a sigh. “Are you gonna have dinner with me, then disappear with one of those girls? The client thing is a big problem for me, but also…” I debated for a moment how to tell him my issues with the party scene without revealing my deepest shame. “We are very different. I feel like a short-lived challenge to you, and once the novelty wears off, you’ll find something else to occupy your time. Why cross that boundary if we both know it can’t work?”

I felt embarrassed admitting that, but it was worth talking about. “I like you,” Oakley replied simply. “I really like you. I don’t do the whole girlfriend thing, yeah. And if we’re being honest, this will probably blow up in our faces.”

His palm landed on my neck, and his index finger tested my pulse. We were in a compromising position, in a very public space, but I felt trapped in his orbit. I couldn’t push him away, and I didn’t want to. Oakley leaned over to kiss me, and I let him.

It was soft and sweet. His lips had a waxy layer of ChapStick on them, and his tongue tasted like mint. When he pulled away, I practically melted. “But I think about you all the time—and not just because you set five million alarms on my phone. I think about if there’s anyone to take care of you. I wonder if you’re eating. I wonder what you look like naked…”

I snorted, but he continued. “I think about kissing you. Everywhere. I bet you taste so fucking sweet.” I was squirming at his words. “I think about what you’re going to do after college. And for the first time in a long time, I think about how my actions affect someone else. I’m just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to go have dinner with me, then hold my hand at a party—and maybe kiss me a few more times. Can we just give this a chance?”

I braced my hands against his chest. “Let’s go eat, Problem.”





19





The dimly lit Italian restaurant Oakley took me to was kind of a dive, and that was being generous. I looked around at the yellowing counters and torn, outdated booths and grimaced. There were only two other occupied tables. I tried to muster up some enthusiasm, but Oakley could read my face like a book.

“I promise, this is the best lasagna you will ever eat,” he said with gusto.

The only waitress on staff that night led us to a booth and handed us menus that looked like they had been printed twenty years ago. Well, at least it was clean, I told myself. Oakley was so excited to bring me here I decided to let my initial judgements go and have an open mind.