Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance)(48)

After we get our drinks, all cheap beers, we sit down in one corner of the bar, huddled together like there's a play coming up. I sink back against the ever-greasy-feeling booth seat and nurse my drink, without really tasting it. I don't get much of a buzz.

"We're still 5–2," Akele says.

Cheesy fidgets in his seat, swigging a giant twenty-ouncer of Foster's in between stuffing mozzarella sticks in his mouth. He'll go through about fifty of them before the night is over. Hence the name.

A few more people show up, then some more players. They give us nods and we nod back. A few cheerleaders arrive, and the place starts to fill up. The music and the sound of voices gets louder, and the dancing starts. After a while, you'd forget we lost.

I sit in the corner, on my third beer, wondering what I'm doing here. I'm so excited to see Ana again that I can barely think. The alcohol is nothing compared to the high I felt when I saw her at the game. She's more addicting than any drug.

Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I'll never lose the image of her I carry from a few nights ago when she was spread-eagled on her bed, naked and sweating and panting and pleading with me to f*ck her. Just the thought makes my cock want to rip through my pants. I shift awkwardly in my seat, swirling half a beer around in its bottle. I'm not walking up to get another with a stiffy.

God, I can't wait. It feels like my skin is going to burst.



Ana



Morning comes. I wake before the sun even rises. That gives me plenty of time to get ready. When I told Dee I was going to date Jason, she insisted I buy all sorts of things. I scrub my face and brush my face, and smear lotion on my skin, though I am not sure why I need it. All the scrubs and cleanses take me an hour.

I apply the perfume I chose last, dabbing a little behind my ears and around my neck. Despite all that, I pull on a hoodie and jeans, though I pick the tightest jeans I own, worn and molded to my body from frequent wear. I still have to almost jump up and down to pull them over my butt.

It's his hoodie I put on, letting the long hem fall down to my knees. I slip on my sunglasses, open my window, and climb out onto the porch roof. There I pause, crouched on all fours, and listen. There is no sound but birds and cars on the street. It is Sunday morning, and the town is still sleeping.

Once I'm over the fence and walking down the sidewalk, I text Jason and let him know I'm on my way. It takes me ten minutes to reach the quad at a leisurely pace, but by then I am so anxious that I tremble as I walk.

Jason is sitting on the grass, leaning nonchalantly up against a brick wall. He looks over and rises slowly, then walks toward me as if we are merely passing each other by.

He falls in beside me, hands tucked in his pockets.

"Good morning, Princess."

I smirk under my hood. "You're so reserved this morning."

"If I tackle you onto the grass and kiss you until you forget your name, someone might notice. I like the look, by the way. Very Unabomber."

"Unawhat?"

"Never mind. The hoodie and sunglasses. My hoodie, I believe."

"Yes. I kept it."

"Maybe I want it back."

"You just want an excuse to take it off me."

"Could be. You wearing anything under it?"

"Of course. It's chilly this morning."

"So what's under there?"

"A blouse. A bra."

"What color bra?"

I look at him side-eyed. "Black."

"Lace?"

"Yes."

"Oh f*ck that's sexy. Tell me you're wearing a thong."

"I don't own any thongs."

"You need some. You have an ass made for thongs."

I snort. "Did you invite me out to do something, or tell me about my rump all day?"

"I have to admit, I think about your ass a lot."

"I'm sure you do."

He smirks. "So, whatever shall we do today?"

"You had best think of something. I am growing bored with you."

"Liar. Let's get some breakfast."

"What sort of breakfast?"

"I know a place. This way."

We walk away from campus, up Academy Street, until we are almost out of town. I tug my hood down when a municipal bus pulls up. Jason pays the fare for us both, and we take seats in the back row. They're narrow, and my hip bumps up against him as we sit together.

He slips his arms around me, and my head falls on his shoulder. I breathe in his scent from the source.

"I don't know anything about you," he says.

"Then you should ask me."

"What's it like? Your home. This is our stop, by the way."

We exit from the rear door of the bus and walk together at an easy pace. We are outside of town now, and there is open space, and greenery. A goose walks out in front of us and glares at us as if she owns the sidewalk. Jason skirts around her, pushing me behind him as if she will bite me.

He takes my hand as we cross the road. It means nothing to me at first. I hold hands with all my friends—which means Dee, really—when we cross, but this is different. His grip is sure, possessive. I find myself staying close, and I thread my fingers through his and squeeze.

When we arrive at the restaurant, Jason gets us a booth in the corner, and we sit together.