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He sent her a dry, unimpressed smile. “It’s what I live for,” he muttered sarcastically as he regretfully slipped from his seat to play photographer.
“So are y’all Stallion fans?” Foster asked, sliding easily into his public persona, as the ladies flocked closer.
“We never miss a home game,” they announced wholeheartedly, jockeying for position to get to stand directly next to the university’s star quarterback.
Foster looped his arms around the waists of the two winners, and the loser pouted for half a moment before resting her hands on her friend’s shoulder and leaning in to cheese for the camera.
After the shot was taken, Foster invited them to join us, saying there was plenty of room, even though we had to find three more chairs and reposition everyone to make them fit.
From that point on, the rest of the night revolved around the ladies.
Keene went home with one, another left with Parker, and the last one came back to my place…with Hudson.
Foster didn’t end up sleeping with a single one of them. And that was why we called him the ultimate wingman. His fame brought them in, but he rarely partook of the spoils himself. Like me and Thane, he actually had to be dating a girl before he had sex with her.
Parker, Keene, and Hudson were much more into casual hookups.
While Alec… Well, I’m not sure what side of the teeter-totter Alec would land on, since I’m almost certain he hadn’t tried either the casualorcommitted route yet.
The whole topic had me thinking about Oaklynn, though, with her dark brown eyes and sexy smile, and legs that were too utterly shapely to be legal in a few states.
Plus, those dimples.
Fuck, why did she have to have dimples?
It was like someone out there knew all my weaknesses and was exploiting them mercilessly.
There had always been one specific quality that had attracted me to every female I’d ever crushed on. They’d all beendifferentqualities, but without fail, there had been one thing each of them possessed that had kept me hooked, starting with Madisyn and her dimples when I was eleven.
Next had been Catalina when I was twelve. She’d had the darkest, most sincere brown eyes I’d ever seen.
Just like Oaklynn’s.
Then I’d fallen for Meghan, an early developer who’d grown D-cups in the eighth grade.
And I must say, Oaklynn’s were probably bigger than that.
In high school, I’d sighed over Emily, Hannah, and Alexis, one with curves that had filled my wet dreams for over a year, one with a bold sass that turned me on every time she spoke in class, and the last with long, glossy dark hair I ached to get my hands in.
All three things that Oaklynn seemed to have in spades.
Freshman year of college, I’d been obsessed with Lily’s ass.
Yet another attribute Oaklynn had well in hand.
But each of the other girls had only seemed to be one portion of a much broader picture. And if I had ever just paused to put all those pieces together and then stepped back to take in the final product, I swear my dream woman would’ve looked and acted exactly like Oaklynn Vargas.
She had the ass and breasts, the curves, the dark hair, the outgoing, adventurous smile, and big brown eyes that seemed sympathetically sweet.
But her dimples.
Sweet Christ. Dimples still got to me. Every time.
I wanted to own those dimples.
I was still thinking about them after I’d settled into bed that night and was scowling irritably up at the dark ceiling because Hudson’s late-night visitor was the loud, boisterous type and only a single wall separated my room from his.
There was no chance of getting any sleep until after they were done.
