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“Who’s his type then?”
“Yeah.” I glance over at Cam. “Who exactly is my type?”
“The next girl who walks past our table alone,” Cam says, sending us a lopsided smile.
This guy has no clue who’s going to walk by. He’s just saying this shit to bug me.
“What if she’s a dog?” I wince the moment the words leave my mouth. I’m the one who sounds like a dog.
Derek laughs. “You have the best luck out of all of us. She’s going to be a total babe, I can guarantee it.”
“See?” Cam’s expression is pleased. The guy loves it when he’s right.
And he’s not even officially right yet.
Quietly, we wait, and all I can think is we must be really bored. A bunch of guys walk by. Then a cluster of girls. Overly loud, overly dressed freshmen who are trying to impress with their coordinated outfits.
Total waste of time. They’ll be in sweats soon enough, tired of putting so much effort into it. Overwhelmed with school, and with life in general.
Finally. I spot the shadow of a lone female approaching our table. She’s walking briskly, her head down, fingers clutched tight around the straps of her backpack. Her long dark brown hair streams behind her, floating on the warm breeze. She’s in cropped jeans and a black T-shirt, a cream cardigan tossed over it, and all I can think is damn, she must be hot. In the literal sense.
Then I glance up and see her face, immediately recognizing her. It’s the girl from the bookstore.
I don’t even know her name.
Figures she’d be the one to walk by. It’s like I can’t get away from her.
“Bro, why you gotta diss our captain like that?” Derek shakes his head, dropping his wilted French fries back into the paper container they came in. “That girl is nothing like his usual type.”
“She’s cute,” Cam says.
I send my best friend a quick look, surprised he would describe her as cute.
Not that she’s hideous. Not even close. I like her dark hair. Her dark eyes. She has freckles that dot her nose. I noticed them yesterday when I was at the bookstore and she was ringing me up. I caught myself staring, and thank God she didn’t notice because I felt like a creeper.
I have to agree with my best friend. Sheiscute. And she’s got a great ass, which I got to feel up close and personal when she kept bouncing on my jock at Logan’s.
The moment lasted all of five seconds, but still. My body reacted immediately. And that hasn’t been happening as much lately. There are a lot of girls who make their way onto my lap, who “accidentally” brush their fingers against my junk. Some are bold enough to just grab it, like my dick belongs to them.
This almost always happens in a bar, and the last few years, I always responded positively. Lately though, I gently push them away with a faint smile and a slight shake of my head. Their disappointment is obvious for about ten seconds before they’re off to find a new guy to conquer.
And this is why I’m not interested in sex lately. I’m tired of being simply another name on someone’s list, and I’m completely over adding names to my list.
I just want to…
Be.
“She’s wearing a fucking sweater when it’s ninety degrees outside.” Derek takes a giant bite of his burger yet keeps talking. “What do you think she’s hiding?”
“I can’t take it when you talk with your mouth open, D. It’s gross,” Cam says as I crane my neck, trying to catch sight of her again.
But she’s already long gone.
“This celibacy idea is stupid,” I mutter as I turn to face forward once more, my appetite disintegrating.
“I’ll say.” Derek swallows down his food. “Why did you want to do it again?”
“So he could stay focused on our team and his classes,” Cam answers for me, his gaze pointed when it lands on me. “Right?”
