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“Is it always—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “It’s never been like that. Not for me.”
“So, this—”
“Was the most incredible sex I’ve had in my life. Yeah.”
I don’t know whether to be proud I satisfied him or terrified of the implication we’re that good together. One reaction could take me down a path I’m not ready to commit to, the other could take that path away before I get to take it.
In the end, I choose neither. “Beginner's luck.”
He snorts out a derisive laugh. “Sure. We’ll go with that.”
Great, now I feel like a jerk.
Pulling my head back so I can see his beautiful face, I give him a timid smile. “Happy New Year.”
“We’ve got three more hours until midnight.”
“I’m saying it now in case I don’t make it that long.”
He rolls those hazel eyes at me. “Don’t tell me you’re that worn out. I did all the work.”
“Take it as a compliment.” I bite the corner of my lip, anxious for his response.
“Typical football stud. You play a game that constantly starts and stops, so you only have energy in spurts.”
I bark out a laugh, cause that shit’s actually funny. “I guess we’ll just have to practice. To build up my stamina.”
Liam fights an amused grin. “Fine. Happy New Year. But don’t think I won’t wake your ass up at midnight to ring it in the right way.”
“I hope you do.” I kiss his soft lips, and lay back on the bed, taking him with me so he’s tucked against my side. And just like he threatened, he wakes me up at midnight.
Chapter twenty-four
Liam
Idon’t know what those Colorado natives were talking about when they said spring is the worst season for sports. It’s mid-January, and it’s fifty-two degrees and sunny. Perfect lacrosse weather.
And it’s not even technically spring. If it’s this nice now, March should be incredible. Hopefully by then I will be, too.
Though my arm is a little weak compared to what it should be, I easily fall into the familiar motion of throwing and catching and cradling, my muscles working without conscious thought to break up the offense’s play and clear the ball.
As the action moves to the other end of the field, I get a nod from the goalie, indicating he’s satisfied with my defense. That’s reassuring since this scrimmage will help the coaches determine the starting lineup, and he’s our starting goalie.
Our offense works the ball around the perimeter of the goal, looking for an opening to drive in for a shot, but an errant pass gets intercepted by a middie who’s been giving me a headache all game. He’s both fast and nimble, so he’s hard to defend against without doubling up, which inevitably leaves another man open. But he’s on a fast break with no one to help him, so between the three defenders we should be able to contain him.
I get there first, using my long pole to poke at his chest and push him back. He’s forced to regroup before charging again, but that slight interruption to his gait gives my teammate time to slide in and help me cover him. And between the two of us, we’re able to stop his progress and knock the ball out of his stick.
My teammate clears the ball by passing to one of our middies who takes it back to the other end, and this time we score.
By the end of the game, we’re up ten to six, and I feel confident that I’ve played well enough to stay in the running for a starting spot. It’s feeling like a pretty good day, until I get a text from the bursar’s office that there’s a problem with my tuition.
I pack up my gear and head straight for the administration building, racking my brain for explanations. I paid with an electronic check, same as before, and the bill wasn’t enough to overdraw my parents’ account. Not even close.
It takes over thirty minutes to get called to the next available attendant, who looks up my record and declares, “Your bank disputed the tuition payment claiming it was a fraudulent charge.”
The slight feeling of unease I felt walking over here morphs into outright panic, though somehow, I’m able to keep my voice level as I ask her to clarify. “The same payment was processed successfully last semester, why would it be fraudulent this time around?”
