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“Partly that.”
“I have soccer practice now, but I can skip it if you want to go somewhere to talk.” He said.
“You should go to practice, but would you mind if I watched?”
“Mind? Hell, no.”
“Do you guys play shirts against skins?” I asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Please make sure you're a skin.”
His chuckle rumbled through him. He kissed my forehead. “For you, anything.”
***
As I watched practice, I realized Bastian was good, in fact, he was really good. Why wasn't he pursuing a career in soccer? Was soccer not an acceptable occupation in the world according to Mr. Ross? It was baffling, how the Rosses saw their son. Ignoring his obvious attributes, he was exceedingly bright, breezing easily through his honors and AP classes. Whether he was talking to guys on his soccer team or members of the faculty, he was equally comfortable with both. What he could do with a car was as impressive as it was enviable. And to top all of that, he was just a really good guy. How anyone could look at him and see anything but perfection just pissed me off. And more, the fact that he didn't allow it to get to him—the neglect at home—and could live his life despite having to do so on his own, showed his incredible strength of character. It was just one more reason why I was so completely drawn to him.
Kira and a few other Cheers were on the sidelines, drooling shamelessly, but they tried to camouflage their lusting behind a weak attempt at cheerleading practice. I wanted to call over to them and say they weren't fooling anyone, but then I was ogling too.
A few times Kira actually engaged Bastian in conversation despite the coach shooing her away, and even from my distance, I could tell there was an easiness about the exchange which I guess would happen when you'd practically grown up with someone. I wondered what he was like at six or ten, or fourteen? Was he always as confident as he was now? Did he always have such a strong sense of who he was?
My thoughts turned to the scholarship. I was going to take it; I’d known it as soon as Ms. Whitney mentioned it, but I hated that I was going to lose that time with Bastian. We had only just started dating and I wanted as much time with him as possible.
I pulled myself from my thoughts when I saw that the team was getting ready to call it quits. Bastian looked seriously overheated. I had spied the cooler earlier, had watched as the team's manager filled several coolers with icy cold water. I stood and made my way over to him.
His hair was pulled back from his face with a bandana and his muscles were all flexed and hard from the exercise. When he saw me, he separated from his team and started toward me in that most excellent swagger of his. I asked when he was just in front of me, “Thirsty?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He reached for the cooler, but I was faster. I lifted it up and dumped the entire contents over his head. I dropped the cooler and ran. I got a few seconds head start, but I could have had a few minutes head start, and it wouldn't have made a difference.
He moved with the speed of a cheetah, those strong, inked and extremely wet arms wrapping around my waist. He hauled me back to press me against his very wet body. “Brat.”
I was laughing too hard to reply until he kissed my neck, right in the spot that caused those delicious little chills. My body went boneless and his grew harder. He seemed to realize where we were and loosened his hold.
He pressed his lips to my ear. “I can't get enough of you.”
A shiver went through me that had nothing to do with being cold. “That makes two of us.”
He lowered me to my feet and I wasted no time turning to face him, because the boy was shirtless, wet and sexy as hell. I liked the bandana especially with the tats. Yeah, he was magnificent.
“What are you thinking?” He asked.
“You should dress like that more often.”
“In private, for you? Anytime.”
Well, hell, I might just swoon right here on the soccer field. I grew exceedingly hot under my suddenly constricting clothing.
“You look flustered.” He said.
“I'm suddenly very warm.”
“Really? I'd offer you some water, but...”
“I'll take being parched, because the visual of you getting doused with water is already stored in my happy place.”
