Looking to Score(41)

I perused the menu and realized that I was looking at entrees I actually wanted to eat instead of what had the least amount of calories. I still wasn’t going to order the lasagna, because come on, carb city, but the chicken piccata sounded pretty good.

As we were waiting for our food to come, Oakley reached his hand across the table and took mine. I could still smell the soap on his skin; it was clean, refreshing, and slightly intoxicating. He looked at me slyly and said, “You know, I seem to remember a certain promise to fuck you so good that all of Austin was going to hear you moan.”

“Oakley!” I yanked my hand back and laughed. It was definitely a tempting offer. But I was so impressed that he even remembered that night at all, let alone actually saying that to me, that my hooha forgot to be turned on.

Our food came and we ate, talked and laughed. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt this comfortable with anyone, let alone a man. I didn’t want this dinner to end. And to top it off, my chicken was so fucking good I thought I might actually come right there at the table. I even tried a nibble of Oakley’s lasagna.

We skipped dessert, and by the time the check came, we had been there for almost two hours. Everybody was going to start wondering where Oakley was if we didn’t get to the party soon. After a little back and forth on who was going to pay, I let Oakley take care of it.

We walked to the party hand-in-hand. But a couple of blocks before we got there, I pulled my hand away. “I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to see whatever this is. I’m your publicist. I don’t want to be the story. Business as usual?” I stuck out my hand to shake on it.

Oakley ignored my hand and pulled me in tight against his hard chest. He threaded his fingers through my hair and brought my mouth to meet his. And then he pulled away. It was a short, sweet kiss that left me wanting more.

“Business as usual,” he said with an impish grin. Holy hell, he was so hot. I followed him wordlessly to the party.





“Oakley! My man!” Dale yelled over the music. The party was in full swing, and there were at least three couples going at it in various spots in the trashed living room.

Dale gave me a heated once over that had me rolling my eyes so hard I think I hurt myself. It felt so practiced that I was certain he’d used it on lots of girls. Dale was cute, don’t get me wrong, but he seemed to poach Oakley’s appeal for himself. “Let me get you a drink,” he said with a wink.

“Just water for me,” I replied. I needed to keep my sobriety if I was going to keep Oakley out of trouble. The moment he walked through the door, he seemed to buzz with excitement. He was a true extrovert, shining in the adrenaline of others’ attention. It wasn’t bad, it was like staring at someone meant to be in the spotlight. Once again, I couldn’t help but feel like his dreams of working at the flower shop were a lie.

“Water? You’re no fun,” Dale whined. “Oh shit, there’s Kaydence. Fuck, I swear she’s the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. Be right back.” Dale disappeared without getting me a drink, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how he fumbled across the room to see a girl with long blonde hair, alluring eyes, and bright red lipstick.

“I’ll get you a drink. Would you like sparkling or flat?” Oakley asked while spinning my hair on his finger.

“Only the finest water from Fiji for me,” I teased back. “Tap is fine.”

Oakley disappeared through the crowd, and I leaned against the wall, people watching as I waited.

“Hey there, Balls,” a familiar voice called out. Ahh, Heath. Fuckboy freshman extraordinaire.

“Hey. Did you enjoy the game?” I asked politely.

“Yeah. It was good. I would have preferred to watch it with you, though,” he said, standing alarmingly close to me. I had not forgotten the full-on boob squeeze. He smelled sickly sweet, I’m guessing from whatever the red liquid in his cup was.

“Yeah, too bad players have to, you know, watch the game with the team and all,” I snarked.

“I know, baby. If they let us, I would’ve brought you down to the sidelines and let you watch as my special VIP,” Heath told me, trying to be smooth, my sarcasm having gone right over his head.

He shot a hand up surprisingly fast for a drunk dude and started stroking my face. “You’re so soft. And pretty,” he said with all the charm of a teenager trying to ask out a girl for the first time. He dipped his head like he was going in for a kiss.

“What the fuck, man?” Oakley yelled, standing in front of us. His rage was palpable.

Heath lifted his head to look at Oakley. “Hey, man!” Heath babbled, absolutely oblivious to Oakley’s anger. Alcohol was a powerful thing. I mean, I didn’t think Heath was all that bright to begin with, but this was next level.

Oakley shoved Heath off of me and stood over him aggressively. Heath was a big dude, being a football player and all, but Oakley made him look so small. It dawned on me that these guys were going to get into a fight over me. Huh, cool. No, not cool. Bad. Very bad.

“Oakley, it’s okay,” I said, resting my head on his arm.

“Back the fuck off,” Oakley said to Heath, ignoring me. “Find somewhere else to be annoying, or I’ll have you cleaning equipment all day.”

“You can’t do that,” he argued. “But I wouldn’t mind scrubbing some balls,” he then added in a slur.