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“Same thing.” She sets her fork down and gets to her feet. “Anyway, like I said, I don’t need protection. Thanks for everything.”
I can tell by her tight, fake smile that I’ve done something wrong, but fuck if I know what it is. What I do know is that she’s leaving, which is bad. Very, very bad. I glance at the pie which she was so happy about just five minutes ago. I scramble for the plastic bag. “What about your pie? Don’t you want to take it with you?”
“No. I don’t have a refrigerator.” Her hand is on the door.
I abandon the pie and jump toward the entryway. “Okay. Let me get my shoes on and I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
“You don’t have to. It’s only across the street.”
Shoes? Who needs them? I let her open the door and follow her out. “A lot can happen on streets. Accidents, for instance. They happen on streets. A good 90 percent of all accidents happen on streets.”
She stops in the hallway. “Only 90 percent? Where do the other 10 percent occur?”
I cast around wildly for an answer to my made-up statistic. “Bathrooms,” I blurt out. “Ten percent of accidents happen in bathrooms and the other accidents all happen on the street.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I feel like you’re making this up.”
I shake my head vigorously. “Nope. I learned it in health in high school.” I don’t even remember if I took health in high school.
“I see that there’s little I can do to convince you to stay home. You made that favor and you’re going to follow through, aren’t you?”
There’s something about the tone of her voice that makes me think I’m in dangerous territory. Ninety percent accident territory, but I don’t know why. Keeping promises is a good thing in my book. If you say you’re going to do something and you don’t follow through, you deserve to step on Legos. But I feel like if I say that, Erika’s going to be mad. For the hundredth time, I curse my inexperience with women. “I just want to walk you home,” I finally answer.
“Because of the accidents?”
“Yeah.”And because I want to spend more time with you and even if it’s only the space of a few minutes, it’s worth it. I don’t say those words out loud though, because we just met and even a dumbfuck like me knows that saying shit like that to a woman who is half your size and doesn’t know more than your full name will freak her out.
“Fine. It’s not like I can stop you.” She turns on her heel and glides down the hallway. I stare a little because she walks different than anyone I know—graceful, like a butterfly. Her feet barely touch the ground. Her hair hangs long and low, the ends brushing the top of her ass. I gnaw on my inner cheek. I wish I could touch her ass. It’s high and round and perfect for my hands.
I turn hot as the image of me cupping her ass cheeks in my palms while I hold her above me and she rides my face until she creams flashes in front of my eyes. I press a palm to my forehead.Get a grip, man. She doesn’t want you that way.
I don’t think she wants me any way. She stalks forward, without even a glance over her shoulder to see if I’m still behind her. That twists me up inside. What’s worse is that she’s right. Her dorm is just across the street and by the time we’re at the front entrance barely any time has passed.
“Good night, Tank,” she says and slips inside the building.
I watch as she disappears down a hall. My hands fist at my sides and resolve sets in. She might not want me, but I’m still not letting her walk around campus by herself.
CHAPTER6
ERIKA
Maybe I should have saidI could walk myself home. I ponder the error of my ways as my best friend Liv, who kind of shares my dorm room with me, fights with one of her two boyfriends. Saying “boyfriends” has gotten way easier over the last week. It’s pretty much normal now in my head.
Almost as normal as it is for me to not be sure which one she’s fighting with right now. One took off, and if you ask me, it’s impossible to tell them apart. I should have paid better attention to who was wearing what. She never agrees that they look the freaking same, but they do. Identical. I don’t know how she so easily tells them apart. Maybe that’s because she’s been with them since she was fifteen. Going off the conversation, I’m guessing it must be Levi. He’s the one on the football team everyone is always going on and on about.
“Seriously? You think that all the women in the stands are there because they like watching 22 men chase after a leather ball. No! They like seeing the men hit each other wearing their skin-tight leggings. They like seeing those jerseys come off and the tight abs underneath. They think about running onto the field and climbing the players’ sweaty bodies like tree trunks.”
Livvie is all worked up now. I knew she was pissed the moment they said something about the shirts we made. They did show more skin than normal, but we put so much effort into them that I was wearing it either way.
I’ve noticed Livvie only gets worked up when it comes to the twins. Oddly, since I’ve gotten to know her I’ve come more out of my shell, whereas she’s sometimes shyer, especially when it comes to pushing back at someone who isn’t them. It pisses me off when someone tries to give her shit about her relationship. They’re happy. Why can’t people just leave them the hell alone? I’ll never understand why people care so much about what others do. Why can’t they just leave them be and let Liv skip through her field of daisies? Who cares if it’s not normal? Normal is what my parents would be classed as. I’d rather watch five million football games than be stuck in that relationship.
She always goes stock still when she feels like someone is pushing her or being outwardly mean to her. She never reacts in a normal manner to the situation. It shows how much the twins have shielded her from the rest of the world. Levi looks around like he doesn’t know what to do. I step in, trying to save him. I like both of the twins. They make Liv happy beyond belief. Their relationship gives me hope that I can find something like that one day. Tank comes to mind, but I push that thought from my head quickly.
“Um, Liv, that might just be you,” I jump in. I wasn't checking out the guys on the field. At one point I forgot there was a game.
Liv spins to face me. “What do you mean?” She looks completely confused. She doesn’t understand someone not thinking Levi or Zeke is hot. It’s sweet she thinks that and all, but no. They aren’t my type. Again, Tank comes to mind. Damn it. He just keeps creeping in there. Honestly, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind since the night I left his condo. I’m trying my best to forget him, but it isn’t working. Starting now, I’m going to try harder.
“Football players aren’t really my thing.” I shrug. “No offense,” I add, flicking my gaze over to Levi.
