“So…”
“So I never said I believed him. I only told him he made a good catch, ‘cause he did. That’s the only compliment I could think to give the fucker.”
I thought back. What Zeb said was true.
“If you saw Chase outside the locker room with a friend, I believe you.”
I bit my lip, unsure.
“What were they doing?” he asked. “He wouldn’t have gotten in your face at the party if they were high fiving and celebrating.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It matters, because you matter. I need to know what you saw so I can protect you from him. Trust me, that whole family is bad news.”
I took a deep breath, let it out. “I saw him selling drugs to some student.”
Zeb frowned. “Outside the locker room?”
I nodded. “Yes, right before you and Nick came out.”
“You sure?” he asked, then held up a hand. “You’re sure. I believe you.”
“It doesn’t matter because even now that you know, there’s nothing we can do about it. Not that I was going to do anything anyway. I might be a total nerd, but I know that reporting it won’t make a difference. It’s my word against his.”
“And mine.”
We stood facing each other, two feet between us. It felt stilted and uncomfortable, completely unlike every other time we’d been together.
I shook my head. “No, Zeb. You go to the dean or the coach and report him, he’ll know I told you. Plus, he’ll deny it just like he did at the party. Who are theygoing to believe? There’s no proof. All it’ll do is just what you tried to prevent earlier–tearing the team apart.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Fuck Chase Trout,” he muttered. “He’d love nothing more than to see you and me broken up. It’d make his fucking day.”
“Broken up? We were never together,” I said.
He stepped up to me, took hold of my arms. I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes.
“Sweetheart, who licked your pussy earlier?”
Oh God. I flushed hot remembering.
“You trusted me with your body,” he added. “No one else has ever gotten the privilege of getting between those thighs. Trust me with your heart.”
“Zeb…”
I was unsure, but like a tower of blocks, I was teetering, ready to fall.
“Whose hand was wrapped around my dick? Who got me to come just from that? Who had my cum all over her?”
“Me,” I whispered.
He cupped my face, tipped his head so our foreheads touched. “That’s right. Only you. And us? It’s a thing. You wore my sweatshirt. You touched my dick. No tradebacks.”
That made me smile, which made him smile.
“Okay?” he asked. It was a loaded question. My answer would decide whether we were together or not. Did I want what was happening between us? I felt it, so keenly. I wouldn’t have been so upset about what happened at the party if I didn’t care.
“I’m falling for you, Zeb Wilder, just you,” I admitted. “Not the football hero.”
