The Locker Room

by Quinn, Meghan

  I pick up my phone as well and start searching places to take my girl on a date. I also understand where Coach is coming from, but I’ve always been able to compartmentalize on the field. Being with Emory isn’t going to change that.

  Chapter Twenty

  EMORY

  Knox: What’s your schedule?

  Emory: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I have off . . . all perfect date nights.

  Knox: Do I hear a sense of excitement in your . . . typing?

  Emory: Maybe.

  Knox: That’s cute, babe.

  Emory: What did you expect, for me to be dragging my feet?

  Knox: Yes, I love forcing my women to go out with me.

  Emory: How many women?

  Knox: Ten a month. I can’t handle any more than that. You’re number nine.

  Emory: Only ten, pish, child’s play. Try fifteen. Ever wonder why I don’t see you as much, it’s because you’re number twelve on my list.

  Knox: If I didn’t know we were casually exclusive switching to seriously exclusive, I’d be worried. Those skirts attract men like flies to shit.

  Emory: Flies to shit? How pleasant.

  Knox: Texas, babe. I grew up with lots of horse shit and flies.

  Emory: What a beautiful childhood you must have had.

  Knox: Nothing beats scooping shit into wheelbarrows for cash.

  Emory: I bet you looked hot doing it.

  Knox: A skinny twelve-year-old me. Super hot.

  Emory: Eh, no thank you. I only like you because of your muscles.

  Knox: My dick will eclipse that thought once you get to know him.

  Emory: Which will be never at this rate.

  Knox: Mentally we’ve fucked at least two hundred times by now in my head.

  Emory: Yeah? Tell me some of the things we’ve done.

  Knox: Nice try, Satan’s mistress. Fuck that. I’m not getting hard over text messages. No fucking thank you.

  Emory: It will be fun, come on.

  Knox: Nope. Not happening. I have a date to plan.

  Emory: You’re not like the average guy. Anyone else would have jumped on the invitation to sext with me.

  Knox: I’m not average, babe. In any way. Plan to be wooed Friday night, think you can handle it?

  Emory: Easy. I’m just wondering if you’ll be able to handle the dress I’m planning to wear.

  Knox: Bring it, Ealson.

  Emory: Get ready to take a trip to Boner Town.

  Knox: Erection City, here I come, I just booked a one-way trip.

  * * *

  “Oh my God, he’s going to die.”

  I glance in the mirror, twirling so I can look at my backside. “You think so? The dress isn’t too much?”

  “Not at all,” Dottie says, sitting on my bed. “And your hair, the honey highlights you added are gorgeous. They highlight your eyes.”

  I sift my fingers through the soft waves. I took a chance and got my hair done today, adding some honey coloring and more layers. It’s not much of a change, just enough to make an impact. I spent the afternoon after classes primping for my date. I shaved all over, lotioned every last inch of my body with my best bergamot lotions, spent at least an hour on my makeup, and thankfully my hairdresser did my hair.

  And the dress? Yellow with a razorback and deep V in the front. The fabric clings to every piece of my body and the hem hits at mid-thigh. I paired the dress with white heels and a white peacoat. It is winter, after all.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Ah, he’s here,” Lindsay screams while running in place.

  “Settle down.” I laugh. “We’ve seen him before.”

  “But this is different. You guys are taking things to the next level. What if he proposes tonight?”

  “Oh my God.” I roll my eyes. “We hardly see each other, but he’s proposing? Get your shit together, Lindsay.”

  She tamps down her excitement. “Sorry, I got a little overzealous there. Want me to get the door?”

  “Sure. I’m going to apply my lipstick one more time.” I chose a subtle pink, but it gives my lips one solid color.

  Lindsay takes off toward the door while I reapply and then fluff my hair. Dottie comes up next to me and says, “You look perfect, Emory. Enjoy tonight and let down your shield. He’s a good guy, better than Neil ever was.” She gives me a side hug and then takes off toward the common room where Lindsay is gushing over Knox.

  “Oh my God, could that shirt be any tighter. Look at your biceps.” His deep laugh floats into my room.

  “I shrunk it on purpose. Did it do the trick?” I can imagine him flexing his biceps for Lindsay.

  “Oh yes, is that a six-pack or an eight-pack? Can I feel?”

  I take that moment to step out of my bedroom. “There will be no feeling of Knox’s abs.”

  Knox spins around and the look on his face when he sees me is entirely too satisfying and something I’ll remember for a very long time. His eyes peruse my body slowly as his hand drags over his mouth.

  “Holy . . . shit,” he says under his breath, taking a step forward. “Babe, you look . . . fuck, you look good.”

  “Thank you.” He snags his hand around my waist and pulls me in close. He sifts his fingers through my hair, examining my new locks.

  “This is sexy. I liked your hair before, but I like this even more.” He glances down. “And your tits, fuck you’re going to kill me with those things. Our bet was only about sex, right? I can suck on these tonight?”

  Dottie snorts from behind.

  “It’s any kind of sex acts.” I pat his cheek and then slide my hands over his black tight-fitting button-up shirt. Lindsay was right; you can see every curve of his strength through this fabric. His biceps are bulging, threatening to tear through the material. His pecs test the sturdiness of the buttons, and the taper of the shirt clings to his narrow hips, where he’s tucked the hem into a pair of dark-wash jeans with a belt that sits low. Super sexy. “You look really good.” I want him to know I just don’t bust his balls, but I can appreciate everything about him. Why the hell did we make this bet? I want to climb him.

  “Thank you.” He lifts his hands to my cheeks where he lightly presses a kiss against my lips.

  “Oh my God, they’re sickeningly cute, aren’t they?” Lindsay asks.

  “Unfairly made for each other,” Dottie answers.

  Even though I want to keep my heart out of this as much as possible, because I’m still trying to put it back together, it’s hard not to agree with them.

  * * *

  “I’m obsessed with this,” I say, taking in the carts moving around the dining space. “Am I dressed too fancy for this place?” I scan the other patrons and take in their simple street clothing.

  “You’re dressed perfectly . . . for me. Who cares what everyone else thinks?”

  After Lindsay and Dottie gushed for five more minutes, we left in Knox’s truck and drove along the lake parkway until we came to Sauce and Dumplings, a beautiful dim sum restaurant right on the water. I’ve heard a lot of students talk about it but haven’t been before. The surroundings are beautiful with the panoramic views of the lake, but since we’re in a college town, the attire isn’t as fancy as the candlelit restaurant.

  But that’s okay, because Knox is right: it’s only about us.

  We started out with tea that Knox didn’t touch but instead ordered a Coke. Then some wanton soup, and now we’re on to the main course that will be delivered on the carts. We’ve ordered a few different dumplings that I can’t wait to sink my teeth into.

  Knox picks up the first one with his chopsticks, his large hand expertly working the sticks like a pro and for some reason, it’s a huge turn-on for me. Since I’m inept at using chopsticks, I default to my fork, feeling a little foolish.

  “Are you ready to dive into being seriously exclusive?” he asks, taking a mouthful of what looks like a beef and broccoli dumpling.

  “I am.”

  “Good.” He holds up his next d
umpling and says, “Tell me about your ex.”

  I should have known that was coming, but to ask so early in the evening? Risky.

  “Going right for it, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, because I want to get it out of the way. Get it off your chest, then we can move on. Tell me the kind of dickhead he was.”

  He has a point. I knew the question was going to be asked tonight. It’s part of getting serious with him, we dig deeper, find out more personal things about each other. I would rather get this over with too than let it hang over our date.

  “I met Neil when I was a freshman in high school and was immediately enamored. He was the first boy to ever look at me like I was pretty, the first boy to kiss me, the first to . . . have sex with me.” Knox’s jaw grows tight, but he doesn’t say anything. “I quickly fell in love. I let him consume me. Everything Neil did was perfect, and I wanted to be a part of it, even if it meant ditching my friends on several occasions or setting my dreams aside so he could follow his. At first, he was sweet and supportive; he had an addictive personality. Fun and outgoing, obnoxious at times, but always knew how to rein it back in. I became very attached.”

  “That’s why you stayed in California to go to school, because of him?”

  I nod. “I applied to schools he was applying to and when he chose Cal State, I went with him, even though they didn’t have the program I wanted to major in. But I wanted to be near him. I needed to be near him. It came to a point where he felt like my safety blanket. I’d been with him that long. But once we got to college, things started to get tense between us.”

  “How so?” Knox asks. I can see he’s agitated in the high set of his shoulders, but his voice is soothing, even . . . interested. Neil never had the kind of self-control Knox shows. It’s one of the many differences about them.

  “He wanted to do things I didn’t. He started to get into drugs, saying it was college and we won’t have any other time to experiment. That wasn’t for me though, so he’d go to parties without me while I stayed at home studying. He took advantage of that, how I take longer to learn something. Whenever I said I needed to study, he’d be out. And then one night, when I finished studying early and wanted to surprise him, I found him in bed with another girl.”

  Knox shakes his head. “What a stupid fuck.”

  “I didn’t think so at first. I thought that maybe it was me, that I wasn’t giving him the attention he needed, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. He was a selfish prick, and I deserved better. I deserved more.”

  “You do, you deserve so much more than him.”

  “Yes. I know that now. After breaking up, I finished out the semester and applied to Brentwood. I got in, called up my girls asking if I could room with them, and then I slapped you in the face with a campus map. The rest is history.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Neil?” I shake my head. “No. I don’t miss him. There’s a part of me that misses his friendship though, because in high school, he was my best friend. Losing that was really painful.”

  “And that’s why rule number one exists, right?”

  I take a bite of my dumpling. “Yeah, it is. Once I started to get to know you and realized how much I actually liked being around you, it reminded me of what happened with Neil. It’s why I was so hesitant, Knox, why I don’t ever want to lose our friendship. I don’t just think you’re hot or the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, I actually like you as a friend and want to hang out with you.” I shrug, feeling really vulnerable. “I feel good when I’m with you, and I don’t want to lose that.”

  “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You better not.” I finish off my dumpling. Chew. Swallow. Then, I ask, “So, no exes in your life I need to worry about?”

  “Nope. You might have to fight off some groupies, but there are no exes in my life.”

  “Groupies? Really?”

  “Come springtime, things get crazy. The locker room hussies, looking for that golden ticket. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Ah, the locker room.” I take a sip of my tea. “Ever consider taking me there?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

  “Do you want to go there?” he asks, surprised.

  “Have sex in a stinky, sweat-soaked room? I’ll pass.”

  “It’s a lot nicer than that. It’s like a major league clubhouse. They treat us well because we bring in good money to the school.” He cuts open another dumpling. “So, no comments on the no exes thing?”

  “Not really, should I have some?”

  “Don’t girls freak out about being the first girl a guy’s been in a relationship with?”

  “Not me.” And that’s the truth. “If you were a douchebag, maybe, but you’re sweet. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me, so why do I need to worry?”

  He pauses, fork midway to his mouth when he cocks his head to the side, studying me. “You’re so fucking cool, Ealson.”

  That makes me smile. I always appreciate being complimented on my looks, every girl likes to know the guy they’re with thinks they’re beautiful, but to be called cool by him? That spikes a wave of emotion inside of me. We really are friends, and I couldn’t appreciate that more.

  I give him a pointed stare and say, “Just don’t cheat on me or I might have to cut your dick off in pure, blind rage.”

  He winces. “Deal.” When things fall silent between us, he offers, “I hate what he did to you, but for what it’s worth, I’m kind of glad Neil was a dickhead and therefore lost you. Because that means I get you now.”

  “Oh, you get me? Am I prized possession?” I joke.

  Not even flinching, he smiles broadly and says, “Yup. And you’re all mine.”

  * * *

  Hot chocolates in my hands, I hold them up while Knox drapes a blanket over both of our laps. We’re sitting outside a late-night coffeehouse on a deck that hangs over the lake, scattered with lounge chairs. Heat lamps warm the space while the water laps below us. We were able to secure a secluded lounge chair, away from the booming noise inside, and Knox takes no time at all snuggling in close and pulling me to his side.

  The sky is completely dark. Faint stars dot the black abyss, and a few wispy clouds attempt to hide the moon. It’s chilly, but the heat lamps, blanket, and Knox’s warm body make everything comfortable.

  I hand him his hot chocolate as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of my head.

  “This place is so cool,” I say as gentle acoustic covers play in the background.

  “I came here my freshman year with a girl. We didn’t hang out up here, but we grabbed coffee. I remember thinking if I was ever into a girl, I’d bring her to the deck.”

  “And you saved it for me?”

  “Nah, brought three other girls up here before you.”

  “What?” I laugh and pinch his side. He yelps but chuckles as well.

  “I’m just kidding . . . it was five.”

  “You’re obnoxious.”

  He cups my face and turns me so I’m facing his cheeky grin. “But you like it.” He lowers his lips to mine and places a soft, unhurried kiss across my mouth. He’s not looking to deepen it, just enjoying the moment of our lips locking. I swipe my tongue across his lips, and he surrenders a low moan before pulling away.

  He leans back against the lounger and says, “What does Christmas look like in your house?”

  I rest my head on his shoulder and stare at the water. “Probably like every other household: matching pajamas with my parents and sister; big Christmas tree with crazy ornaments; cookies made to be consumed throughout the day; an adequate amount of presents under the tree. We’re lazy all day, snacking and watching A Christmas Story on TBS.”

  “Really?” he asks, getting excited. “You do the non-stop marathon?”

  “Of course. It’s tradition.”

  “So do we,” he says with excitement. “But we make cookies while watching it.”

  “Your cookies aren’t
already made?”

  “Nope. Mom likes to make them that day as a family after presents are opened. We decorate them and watch A Christmas Story. I swear that poor mom in the movie was mine when I was growing up. I have two older brothers, and we were constantly asking for seconds. My mom never got a warm dinner.”

  “Two older brothers?” I ask. “Oh, how hot are they? I might need to trade up.”

  “One is married and the other is engaged. Nice try, Ealson. Plus, I’m the hottest out of the three, easily.”

  I hold out my hand. “Let me be the judge of that. Show me a picture.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He takes a second to find a picture, but once he does, he shows me the screen. Standing at least four inches taller in the middle, Knox has his arms around two guys who look identical. Instead of Knox’s meticulously styled hair, theirs is scruffy and out of place. And instead of broad chests with thick thighs, they have the shape of a runner. They’re cute, they are Knox’s brothers, after all, but they’re nothing compared to the hottie next to me.

  “You have twin brothers?”

  “Yup, and telling them apart is a real bitch. At twenty-seven, they wear the same shit and have the same hairstyle. They fuck with me all the time.”

  Oh, I can see it; a frustrated Knox trying to figure out which brother he’s talking to.

  “And the worst part is, their girls get in on it. It’s a game they like to play with me. I once dotted Jack on the neck with a Sharpie while he was sleeping so I could tell who was who. That didn’t last long.”

  “I think I’d like your brothers a lot.”

  “You would get along too well, it’s scary. What about your sister? Do you get along with her?”

  I twirl my hot chocolate. “We’re okay. She’s ten years older than I am so we’re not super close, kind of in different phases of our lives. She didn’t like Neil though, she made that quite clear when we were dating. I think it was one of the things that pushed us further apart. We’ve talked a little over the last couple of months, trying to build that relationship back up. My mom is adamant we do.”