That Girl (That Girl, #1)(25)

“It’s just pizza,” he replies, stepping into my open legs.

“I want pizza with you. I want lots of pizza,” I whisper back.

“Pizza, then?”

“Yes, pizza with you.”

“Do you want to pizza me?” he asks with a huge grin on his face.

“I pizza you,” I say softly, beginning to smile.





Chapter 9





Giving It a Go at 1,014 Miles



“Do I get to come in tonight?”

“You did last night, Lincoln.”

“Actually, I stood right here on the threshold and kissed the hell out of you.”

“Do remind me again?”

Lincoln Wilks takes me by the hand, pulling me into him, and proceeds to kiss the hell out of me. He says it’s his favorite thing to do, and it’s for sure my favorite thing. We’ve followed the same routine for a little over three weeks now. Late night visits, lots of food, conversation, and kissing. I always call it his kissing because he’s still the driving force and always leading the way. Me, I just go with it and try to play follow the leader with my lips and tongue the best I can. He tells me I’m the best he’s ever kissed, but he also tells me on a daily basis I’m beautiful, unforgettable, and have a nice ass. I’m sure he’d tell me whatever I wanted to hear.

“Thursday night,” he mumbles through his lips into mine.

“Fine,” I mumble back.

His cell phone goes off, and we both know it’s his coach. It’s his last reminder call to get his ass back to the dorms.

“Bye,” I whisper.

“Tomorrow is Thursday, and you’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

“Ugh, this might be more torture than working half of a shift with Jenni,” I reply, not entirely joking.

He gives me one last kiss and moves toward the door. “Get your ass in bed.”

“On it. Night, Lincoln Wilks.”

“Night.” The door closes behind him with a click.

Lincoln has been begging me for the last week or so to go out with his friends. I’m barely able to feel comfortable around him, so I’m not thrilled to be thrown in the middle of college life. From some of his wild stories, I find myself cringing and thanking God more than once that I’ve skipped that scene.

Lincoln hasn’t pushed for any more of my past. I’ve found myself enjoying each evening together more and more, because I know they are numbered with August just around the corner. Lincoln will have fulltime college classes, practices, and games. He’ll be scarce and not available to come entertain me every night. He’s hinted about my taking some classes or just following him around campus as his assistant. He comes across as joking, but deep down we both know the football season is going to be hard on us.

He’s already been in a little hot water with his coach for breaking curfew a couple times. He blamed it on my lips. Coach Uni let it slide since Lincoln is on top of his game, but warned him not to push the boundaries.

Tomorrow night there is the annual barbeque pool party to welcome everyone back on campus. It’s held to honor the team, but I guess that’s an unspoken sentiment. I’m not sure of all the details. Lincoln tried explaining the different niches and politics of college athletics. I did try to pay attention, but it was hard when all I could do was sniff him as I sat in his lap in the passenger seat of his truck.

It was our favorite spot. Lincoln would find an old dirt road or abandoned lot, and we would just sit and talk. The first few nights on our own sides of the truck, and then each night it morphed into a little more before I ended up in his lap. Our hands roam each other’s bodies as we talk and laugh about life. Nothing super-heated, but definitely sensual. I know the day will come when things go to the next level. I try to not let myself think about that day, because I’m not sure if I’ll see Lincoln then, or my past scars. Everything inside me prays that when the time comes I’ll only see Lincoln.

Lying in bed with Lincoln on my mind, it’s nights like these I really wish I had a phone. He nearly had a heart attack the night I told him I don’t have a driver’s license or cell phone. I saw the questions all over his face, but he never asked one of them. But on hot, restless nights like these, when he has to be back in his dorm room, I really wish I had a cell phone.

Unable to text or communicate, I resort to the next best thing – my memory. My favorite is the night we went for pizza, but a close second is the night he took me to the stadium where he plays. We sat up in the bleachers, and he talked for hours about the game, his dreams, and hopes of being seen by his father. The man really just wants the approval of his dad. When most of his classmates are looking toward the pros and being spotted by scouts, he only wants the approval of his own father. Lincoln packed us a picnic, and we ate dinner in the stands.

I’ll never forget his words that night. “These chairs we’re sitting in are my parents’. They’re season ticket holders, but never come to a game. I’m going to write your name on this one, and then when you come to my game in August, you’ll know which seat is yours.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him there was no way I’d make it to a game for various reasons. Transportation being number one, and panic attacks number two, and the list could go on for days. He sensed my feet steadying themselves, and whispered, “It’s just pizza.” It’s become our code meaning everything will work out.