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But this girl…she is hot. So similar it’s freakily uncanny, but she definitely has her own sexiness. Just something all of her own. She’s model thin minus the height. In every way my type, and she’s perfectly proportioned. She’s covering her body up pretty damn well with all those layers, but I can see a hint of toned, round curves just beneath.
Despite the resemblance, there’s something I can’t place about her. Something skittish and unsure, but assertive at the same time—it’s conflicting. That’s what really sets the divide. Alyssa was soft-spoken and tame. This girl has a livewire buried just beneath her surface. And that vigor radiates off her at a high volume. It’s drawing me in; everything around us so quiet, like I need the silence to hear what she’s not voicing with words.
These are my thoughts as she stands here, manically laughing and waving her hand in the air. Her dark ringlets of hair falling over one shoulder, drawing my gaze right to her small but ample chest. Her head cocked back, like I’ve just said the funniest shit ever—and I’d like to believe that. Feel flattered and stroke my ego. But the reality comes as a blow to the stomach when I realize she’s laughing at me.
Dammit.
Do I have something on my face?
“So…bye,” she says, dropping her hand and gripping the tray with both now. Her knuckles turn this white color. She’s so high-strung—a strange desire to unhinge her sweeps through me. Just to see how she’ll respond. I need more. Just more.
I make one more attempt to fix whatever’s off by running my hand over my face, hoping to clear any icing away, feeling like a completely awkward dork right out of high school. Or hell, like I never left.
The memory of Alyssa has dragged me right back to the past. I’m unnerved.
But I’ve missed my chance. She’s gone.
As I watch her walk away, her narrow hips swaying, sexy—but with no intention of being sexy—an easy smile curls my lips, pushing away some of the unease. That’s what’s so hot; she has no clue. But I feel like I just got called out. She—and I really wish I would’ve caught her name—saw right through that lame-ass move. Offering her a piece of my cake? Did I really just go all grade school there?
I pop my finger into my mouth to finish off the icing.
For some reason, I don’t think bragging about being quarterback is going to win over any points with her. I’m glad I didn’t go there, even though I was about to…I was getting desperate to keep her from leaving. And really, every other girl at Braxton goes for that shit. Don’t fix what’s not broken, right? Though, no—I’m definitely thinking she’s nothing like any of those girls.
“Burn.” This from Gavin—my center—my main guy on the field and off.
My jaw clenches as my gaze quits the little hot girl and swings to him. “Not yet,” I say.
He chuckles. “Dude. She straight up dissed you, man. But hey, she’s new, huh? Give her till the end of the day to figure out who you are, then she’ll be spreading those skinny little legs wide open.” He flops down onto one of the plastic chairs and makes a crude motion with his hands and mouth, miming going down on a girl.
Gavin has no filter. Or shame.
I force a laugh. Because really, you have to laugh at the guy, or it’s just sad.
Laney, as if on cue, ambles over from her designated table and plunks onto Gavin’s lap. Her high ponytail swats him in the face, and he yanks on it, pulling her face toward him so he can devour her mouth.
They’re not a couple—just on again, off again fuck buddies for the past few years. Whenever they’re single and bored. The smacking and sucking noises can be heard over the chatter of the cafeteria.
Forgoing my initial inclination to chase after the chick that laughed at me and walked off with the other half of my carrot cake, I settle down onto a chair and dig into my piled-high plate. I’m already dismissing the eerie notion that she looked anything like Alyssa. It was the lighting. Or the angle. She just caught me at an off moment. Moving on. That was a blast from the past I don’t want to revisit.
Until I find out her name, I’ll just give her my own to completely separate the two. But, damn, if she hasn’t hijacked my whole brain. I can’t get those amber eyes out of my mind…
Gavin pulls his head back and says around Laney, “Coach still riding your ass about beefing up?”
Grateful for the diversion from my morbid thoughts, I nod, forcing down the starch-filled biscuit. “I’m six pounds away from goal weight.”
He adjusts Laney on his lap, maneuvering her to the side so he can get to his food. “That sucks.”
I huff a curt laugh. Not to sound like an ass, but that’s probably about the most sympathetic and enlightening thing I’ve ever heard come from the guy’s mouth.
“Thanks, dude.” I lift my fork to dive into the cake but pause. The flimsy utensil hovering over the icing. I didn’t realize it in the moment with my thoughts racing, but it’s been a long while since I was prompted to do anything—even as little as sharing the last piece of my favorite dessert—for anyone else. Especially a girl. Ever since sophomore year, since I made starting quarterback, I’ve had girls falling over themselves to make sure I was taken care of.
Clothes. Food. Sex. You name it. I’m like a prized stallion here at Braxton—and I’m really not trying to sound asinine. Or vain. It’s just the truth. For nearly three years I’ve been pampered, groomed, and indulged to assure the team’s victory. So very estranged from my bleak high school years where I was a skinny runt nobody.
Football changed my life.
And the events that rocked it right out of control.
“I’m out,” Gavin says. He bucks Laney, making her giggle, then lifts her up to stand. “See ya on the field. Fucking Keebler is riding my balls in algebra.” He’s gone before I can acknowledge this. Keebler—professor from hell—might be the reason why Gavin gets benched for a while. Which would really hinder our game. I need him on the field.
