The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(85)

Who says things like that? HE DOES.

He believes in me. Accepts me the way I am.

I’m in love with his random personality, the tender way he talks about his mom, his complexity as a person, his vulnerability, his three things that guide him…

The truth is, I never had these feelings for Donovan. This consuming need. This feeling of being connected by something bigger than me.

“I love you, Snake.” Another tear escapes and I bite my lip. “Sorry. It’s just…” I pause, circling back to some of what I think has been worrying him. “I know we haven’t spent a lot of time one on one, but we didn’t have to. Sometimes big moments happen in a heartbeat, like the library. I believe in destiny and fate, I do. Even when you pretended to hate me and wouldn’t look at me, my body knew the exact moment you got on the elevator behind me. I’m saying stuff that feels too soon, I know, and I don’t want to put pressure on you. I know you have enough, you do, and I do too, but things are moving fast, it’s the end of the term, and we feel so fragile, but…”

“But?”

“You and me? We’re going to stay gold—together. Can you see it?” My breath catches.

A slow smile curls his lips. “When all this is over, I’m going to tell you about a dream I had once about my dad—maybe not a dream, whatever—but yeah, I see it. Gold. It feels good, baby girl.” He kisses me soft and easy, taking his time, his tongue tangling with mine as my hands curl around his neck.





24





The next day, I head up the steps to class. I can’t stop smiling. There’s a girl in front of me, lingering on the steps. She’s wearing a mini skirt and heeled Chucks that match her hair. I slide in next to her, feeling the tingles at her proximity. We don’t speak, our hands brushing as we walk inside and head to the elevator.

I let her get on first, then follow. She slaps the button for our floor. I drop my bag, back her against the wall, and tilt her face up. We kiss, my lips eating at hers, my hunger ratcheting up, to feel all of her, to consume her. I want to take it slow, to savor us, but it’s hard.

We didn’t leave Carl’s until after three in the morning, all of us loopy with exhaustion. Anastasia was hesitant to go, but June was exhausted after a tour of the RV. Carl had it parked on the back of his property surrounded by trees. I knew about it because he’d told me about how he’s always wanted to drive it out west to find Area 51. It had been vacant for a while. Anastasia changed the sheets on the bed and shook out rugs while Carl, Benji, and I moved some of the comic books he’d stuck in there to his garage.

June was quiet, always watching, but I saw hope in her eyes, that look of It’s going to be okay. She worked out a deal with Carl for ‘rent.’ She said she’d keep a watch out for spaceships, and he said that would work. Is it a permanent place for her? Time will tell. It’s a good start, and maybe Carl needs somebody too. Loneliness has followed them both. Friends are a definite possibility.

Afterward, I drove Anastasia home, then Benji, then I went back to her place and crawled into her bed. We didn’t have sex—I’m waiting for something special—but I held her as we talked about nothing, and everything. I told her about my dad’s ‘visit’ to me when I was fifteen. She wept, part sorrow for me, part happiness that I experienced seeing him, part amazement that he said her name. At seven, I went home, worked out, showered, then woke up Crew and Hollis so I could see their faces and tell them goodbye. I also told them my decision about school. I’m not coming back. Talking to my mom and sister on Thursday and then the scout? It made everything crystal clear.

And Anastasia? Leaving her?

I can’t think about it without freaking out, so I’ve shoved it way down.

“I wonder if a Delta will get on the elevator today?” she murmurs as we pull away, her lips swollen from my kisses.

I push a strand of hair out of her eyes. “They’ll be taking the stairs.”

She smirks. “I can’t believe you threatened to blacklist them. Got your paper?”

I nod. “You?”

“Mhmm.”

We walk into class and wait in line to hand in our essays. There’s no lecture today, just turn it in and it’s over and done. It’s anticlimactic after the turmoil this class gave me for four months.

“You never told me why you took this class,” she says with a searching look.

“Because you did.”

A small smile curls her lips, her eyes dancing. “And it took you all semester.”

“Baby girl, now, you know you wanted me from day one—”

She punches me in the arm, and I laugh.

Whitman sits at his desk, his head lowered as I hand mine over. His beady eyes sharpen as he looks from me to Anastasia.

“Your work, Mr. Tate?”

“Always,” I mutter.

He takes it with a grunt. “We’ll see.”

“What’s it worth if I don’t do it myself?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve had things handed to you. I’m not the professor who passes you because you’re a famous jock.”

Huh. Maybe I’ve had a few things handed to me. I grew up with two amazing parents who loved me. We had money. On the other hand, I lost my dad and I might lose my mom.