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“Don’t let Isabella see you,” Stevie said, grabbing his coat out of the closet.
“Thanks, captain obvious,” Brody muttered.
Stevie walked away. Brody and I looked at each other, and then we both grinned like silly teenagers who had gotten caught.
Before we could say anything about what had happened, the two snooping girls we had heard earlier came around the corner. They were being escorted by Double-D.
“Can’t take you out in the car, on account of Dallas would cut off my balls and feed ‘em to me,” he was saying. “But you can sit in the Roadster. As long as you don’t touch nothing.”
“Oh, I can think of something we might want to touch,” one of them said while running her hands over the big lineman’s arms.
Double-D was too distracted to notice anything unusual about me and Brody. He gave us a silly grin and led the girls toward the garage.
“We can’t let anyone see us,” I said. “If Isabella finds out…”
Brody grabbed my face with both hands and gave me a quick, but passionate, kiss. “Last one, T-Foxy. I promise.”
I grinned. “It better not be the last one.”
Brody and I shared another private smile, then quickly returned to the party and split up so as not to attract any attention. My first stop was to the bathroom. Once I had taken care of things and given myself a look-over in the mirror, I got a Coke from the bar—both because I was driving and needed to switch off of alcohol, and because I was very thirsty after our clandestine closet rendezvous.
“There you are,” Isabella said when she found me a few minutes later. She hooked her arm around mine and said, “Us girls are talking about the arrangement for the next game.”
“Oh?” I asked while hoping that she couldn’t smell Brody on me.
“I like what you said to that loser,” she told me. “We all did. I think we need that kind of spunk in the front row.”
“Absolutely!” one of the other cheerleaders said. “You have the right attitude.”
I felt like a high school nerd who had accidentally gotten the attention, and approval, of the popular girls. I laughed nervously and said, “I’ll do a great job in the A-line. I promise.”
I stuck around the other cheerleaders for the rest of the party, pretending like nothing had happened. I was aware of Brody’s presence on the other side of the room, laughing and making jokes with Kincaid. Doing the same thing I was doing: pretending like we hadn’t just screwed each other’s brains out in the closet. As far as anyone knew, the last interaction we’d had was when I publicly ridiculed him in front of Isabella.
But once or twice, Brody and I locked eyes from across the room and shared a secret smile.
I stuck around for a polite amount of time, congratulated Dallas and Kim on their engagement, and then left the party. On the drive home, an uncontrollable giggle burst forth from my lungs. Once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop.
I slept with a football player, I thought. A celebrity. A guy who has his own Adidas endorsement.
But I didn’t care about any of that, because I knew Brody for the man he actually was. And that meant so much more to me than his television image.
When I pulled into my driveway, my phone flashed with a text message.
Brody: I can’t stop thinking about you.
Taylor: I know. Me neither.
Brody: I think your perfume rubbed off on my left arm. I can still smell it.
Taylor: I can still feel your cock inside me.
Brody: DAMN, T-Foxy. You’re giving me a hard-on, and it’s real tough to hide in these suspenders.
Taylor: Sorry for the inconvenience :-)
Taylor: On a more serious note, what are we going to do?
Brody: I dunno. But I do know I’m not stopping now. You’re like a drug. After that first hit, I’m hooked.
