My ego is still a bit bruised from being brushed off for Connor, and that’s what makes me malleable as she delicately and briefly fingers one of the buttons on my shirt. “You know, I’ve always loved how you dress. Even though you’re this big strong football player, you certainly have style. Where do you shop?”
“Anywhere that has big and tall,” I say dryly. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” That isn’t about fashion? “I have a class to get to.”
She smiles again and leans in closer until I smell her perfume, something flowery and sweet. It’s nothing like Penelope’s candy scent—dammit, why am I even thinking about her right now?
Rein it in, Ryker. Rein it in.
She laughs up at me, big eyes wide. “I just wanted to say hi. We had a class together last semester, but you were always so covered up in girls I never really got to talk to you.”
Uh-huh. Margo’s the kind who gets what she wants if she wants it bad enough, and she’s never made an attempt to talk to me.
“Well, here I am, ready and waiting. Let’s talk.” I give her a cocky grin. I can flirt with the best of them, and if it helps me forget that this year is sucking so far, so be it.
She preens. “I think you’re an excellent football player. The way you throw the ball…and stuff.”
Stuff? I scratch my forehead. Is she serious?
From behind me, I hear the sarcastic tones of Penelope’s voice. I turn around and sure enough, she’s standing there, minus Connor.
Her hand goes to her hip. “Well, don’t you guys make the perfect Ken and Barbie.” She says it completely without malice, but there’s a glint in her smoky gray eyes as she measures the distance between Margo and me.
Margo takes her in, her lips pressing together tightly. “Hello, Penelope.”
I sense tension and straighten. “You two know each other?” They eyeball each other like two dogs after the same bone. “Aren’t you both Chi Os?”
“And stepsisters—since last year,” Penelope says tightly.
Margo nods. “My mom married her dad, Professor Wainwright.”
Professor Wainwright? My eyes flare. But he and Penelope don’t have the same last name…
“The psychology teacher?” He’s also the chair of the department and my guidance counselor. I have a meeting with him soon to make sure I’ve got my credits together for graduation. A graduate of Waylon back in the day, he was a quarterback in the NFL for a few years.
Penelope gives me a short nod. “It’s not something I go around telling people.” She shrugs, a hard set to her face. “I barely know my dad. I happen to know a lot about football because I like the sport.”
Ah. I know what it’s like to barely know a parent. My mom left my dad when I was three and has been floating in and out of my life ever since. She only comes around when she’s in between boyfriends and has nothing better to do. The last time I saw her was over two years ago at a football game in Austin, where I’m from. Despite the fact that I’m the quarterback, she’s never been to a game here at Waylon. From watching the myriad of emotions flitting across Penelope’s face, it seems we have that dynamic in common.
“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Margo says to Penelope.
“It can wait.”
Margo narrows her eyes. “I wanted to speak with Ryker alone.”
Penelope stiffens and looks back at me, her eyes gazing at me accusingly.
The arch in my eyebrow says, Are you jealous?
Never in a million years, her smirk replies.
Then why the dirty looks?
She grits her teeth.
“I thought you’d already gone inside to sit with Dimpleshitz,” I say pointedly.
“I did. I came out to find you.”
Oh.
“Why?”
She eyes Margo and chews on her lip, obviously contemplating.
Did things go south with Dimpleshitz?
I’m about to ask her when Margo stumbles in her heels—how do you do that standing still?—and I reach out and grab her. She melts in my arms. “Thank you, Ryker. You’re so strong.” She bites her lower lip and pushes out her tits. My eyes, of course, go straight down to her cleavage. I’m human, after all.
I glance over at Penelope, who’s glaring at me.
What?
“No worries,” I say to Margo, setting her right. “Is there something else you wanted?”
She clears her throat, her hands fluttering. “Yes, as I was saying earlier…I think you’re the best player in the country, and no one is more disappointed than me that you aren’t being considered for the Heisman this year.”
She definitely has my attention now. I frown. “The award isn’t everything,” I say, even if it so is.
“Good Lord, he could still win. He was cleared by the NCAA. How many times do I have to tell people?” Penelope says rather loudly.
“Are you…defending him?” Margo asks, an incredulous look on her face.
Penelope shrugs. “Even if he doesn’t get the Heisman, he’s going to be a top pick in the draft. That’s nothing to sneer at.”
“But he did the betting thing to you.”
“I’m right here,” I add dryly.
Penelope looks at Margo. “And he apologized and has made up for it. Once I forgive someone, it’s over and done. We’re moving on. Isn’t that right?” Her smoky eyes meet mine, and fuck, my heart kicks up a notch. My gaze drifts over her porcelain complexion, taking in the curls that fall around her shoulders. I stare at her lips, remembering that kiss.
She’s not for you.
I swallow. “Yeah.”
Margo lets out a heavy sigh, and this time her hand on my arm is insistent as she tugs. “Whatever.” She focuses back on me. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Chi Omegas are having a huge—”
“Willyoucometothehomecomingpartywithme?” Penelope asks rapidly, running the words together as she stands with her hands clenched.
I whip my gaze back to her. “What?”
Did she just ask me to go to a party with her?
She nods. “It’s a homecoming party at the Chi O house after the game. I know you usually go to the Tau house…” Her voice drifts off and she fidgets.
I grin at her, giving her the full golden boy charm. “I’d love to, babe.”
She grimaces at the endearment. “And I invited you,” she adds, a scowl on her face as she sends a triumphant look at Margo.
“Whatever floats your boat.” I turn more fully toward her, hoping Margo will take the hint and move away, but she doesn’t. “What about Dimpleshitz?” I ask. “Is he going to be okay with that?”
She looks confused and waves me off. “I invited him too…just now. I was coming out to tell you. Aren’t you proud of me? I mean, I was nervous, but he asked me out, so I think he’s really into me. It gave me the confidence I needed.” She smiles.
A frown scrunches my forehead. “I see. So I’m not your date?”
Penelope gives me an unsure look. “No. We can invite as many people as we want. We want to have a better party than the Thetas, and Margo insists we ask the most popular A-list students to come to the party. You’re my pick.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. I get it now. I’m just a commodity. A means to an end. Get the popular jock there and everyone else will follow.
“Dudes! What’s going on?” Blaze calls out as he waves. Dillon is next to him, the backup quarterback from Alabama with dreadlocks and a killer smile. They jog over to us, faces expectant. Carefree. Maybe that was me at some point but not anymore.
Blaze sidles up to Penelope, his gaze darting from her to me, a questioning look in his eyes. “So you guys are cool now?”
I just got her a date with her #1 crush—so yeah.
Margo is still attached to my arm, and part of me, the part that’s smarting after not being the only person Penelope invited to the Chi Omega party, decides to let her keep hanging on, especially since Penelope can’t stop looking at me and Margo.
> Charisma appears in our circle and throws an arm around Penelope then gives me a narrowed look. “What’s up?”
Penelope says brightly, “I asked Ryker to the Chi Omega after party for homecoming, and he said yes.”
An expression of surprise then understanding flits across Charisma’s face as she looks at Penelope and then Margo.
Blaze’s ears perk up, and he turns to Charisma, his eyebrows waggling. “I haven’t gotten my invitation yet. How’s about it, babe—wanna ask me?”
“Don’t call me babe and no.”
“I’m inviting you,” Penelope announces.
He lets out a whoop and high-fives Dillon.
“Well, if it’s going to be a big hoedown, I gotta be there too,” Dillon mutters.
Charisma rolls her eyes. “Great. It’s going to be one big football sausage fest.”
Penelope gives Margo a smile. “Aren’t you glad Charisma and I managed to invite all these great guys?”
Margo grits her teeth and pushes out a smile. “Of course. Our party’s going to be the best.”
Blaze gives me a long look. “Homecoming isn’t that far away. Maybe we all need to hang out some before it gets here.”
My lips tighten. I know what he’s insinuating. He wants me to bang Penelope.
Penelope shrugs. “Sure.”
Penelope
Class is weird.
Ryker and I enter at the same time, and because we’re a few minutes late, the only seats left are in the very back. Connor is sitting up front, where it’s packed, and someone took my seat. Professor White is known to be a quiet talker, so if you want to keep up, it’s best to sit close.
I’m glad I still have my backpack and workbook on me.
We head to the back, and Ryker’s face is a mask as he settles in next to me.
While Professor White gives us a few moments to look over some notes before a quiz, I lean over to Ryker, keeping my voice low. “Aren’t you proud of me?”
I expect him to flash that smile at me and be cocky.
But his expression is flat. Inscrutable. “You managed to get a date with Connor and invite me to a party and get a yes. Kudos. You’ve got some mojo. Everyone will be impressed.”
I frown, searching his face. “Are you mad?”
He shakes his head and focuses on the board, where the professor is writing notes.
I replay the conversation, my conscience tugging at me. I can’t come up with a viable reason for his surliness. Unless…
“Did you think I was asking you out?” I whisper.
Tension crackles in the air, and he inhales a deep breath then stares at me hard before looking back at the board.
“Ryker?”
A muscle pops in his jaw, but he doesn’t respond for at least twenty seconds, his eyes holding mine, the color deep and mesmerizing, an iridescent sea-green color.
He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it.
“What?”
His gaze searches my face, as if looking for something, and I draw up, my body leaning toward his. God, how does he manage to create this tension inside me with just one look?
He exhales and breaks our stare. “Of course not.”
He scribbles on his paper next to his laptop.
“There’s something you’re not saying,” I murmur.
“I don’t like being used to make your party cool.” His voice is low. “I thought you were above all the labels at Waylon.”
Labels? He’s at the top of the food chain here. “Easy to say when you’re the one looking down on everyone else.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know the pressure I feel to be the best.”
“You’re kidding, right? You have this entire school eating out of the palm of your hand. Everyone loves you.”
“You’re wrong.” He shrugs, broad shoulders shifting. The movement causes his arm to touch mine, and I get sparks all over my body.
He gives me more room until we aren’t touching.
“There’s a shit ton of pressure on me,” he continues. “My team wants me to bring them together. Coach wants a championship. NFL scouts are constantly watching and critiquing me. And, if I get hurt this year, everything’s over. All that hard work…down the drain.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “When it comes down to it, I’m just a twenty-one-year-old kid who’s making some pretty big decisions.”
I study his face, taking in the hard jut of his jaw and the shadows I think I see in his eyes. I’ve been imagining him as a carefree asshole, putting labels on him in my own way. Sure, he’s not the golden boy I once thought he was, but black sheep looks good on him, too. Maybe I did get way too wrapped up in beating Margo at her own game. Sometimes we think everything is about us, but it isn’t. And sometimes, we do and say not so great things to get the thing we really want, even at the expense of others. I think back to seeing Margo standing next to him in the hall and how angry it made me. Part of it was because I’m starting to think of Ryker as my friend, but I also didn’t want her to get the upper hand. “You’re right. I manipulated you.” I look down at my hands. “I’m sorry.”
A few ticks of silence go by as he taps his pen on the desk. My chest feels tight as I bring my gaze back up to study him. His stony expression softens. “Ah, Red. I’m not angry with you. It’s just everything else really.” He sighs. “I know you’re not like other people. You don’t even care who I am; in fact, I should still be begging for your forgiveness for that bet.”
I shake my head. “No, we’re past that. I meant what I said.” I pause. “I don’t hold grudges, Ryker. Starting right now, you and I have a clean slate. Friends.”
“Friends, huh?”
I smirk. “It’s better than enemies.”
“You do have my workbook.” He eyes the item in question as it sits on my desk.
“And thank you again. I owe you.” I smile, and his dimple flashes at me. I get a high, like a rush of coke, straight to my head—not that I’ve ever done drugs, mind you, it’s just…he brings out uncharted emotions in me, little by little.
He nods his head toward Connor, who’s glancing over his shoulder at us. “He’s looking lonely over there, and maybe a little jealous that we’re talking. You best remedy that after class.”
But…
I nod, and we turn back to Professor White.
Later, when class is dismissed, Connor walks over and offers to escort me to my creative writing class. I falter, part of me having hoped Ryker and I could talk more, but he doesn’t wait around for me to decide; instead he runs his gaze between Connor and me, gives me a short nod and heads out the door.
Penelope
Charisma and I sit inside a booth at Sugar’s. It’s my dinner break, and she popped in to keep me company. We eat burgers and fries as we strategize on how I’m going to figure out how to play pool.
I take a long drag from my soda and rub my forehead. “Why did I lie to him?”
She shrugs. “I assume because you like him and wanted to impress him?”
I nod, but there’s a niggling in my head, a small voice that’s beginning to grow stronger. Is Connor what I want? I’m not an advocate of lying, ever, and yet I started us off that way. It doesn’t feel right.
She narrows her eyes at me as she stuffs a fry in her mouth. “What about Ryker? He’s hot.”
“There is no me and Ryker.”
She looks at me.
“What?” I say. “I don’t do football players.”
She thinks on this, her finger tapping her chin. “What I find interesting is that Ryker chose to kiss you to make Connor jealous. There are a dozen other things he could have done, like told Connor how nice and sweet you are.”
I shrug. “He had a gut feeling and just went with it, I guess.”
She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Listen, I have gut feelings too, and mine is telling me Ryker has his eye on you. He watches you.” Her gaze darts over to the football table in the back. “In fact, don’t turn your
head, but he’s looking right now. And his face is so dang serious.”
I stiffen, and it’s everything I can do to not turn my head. It’s been a couple of days since we had our talk in calculus, and it feels as if he’s giving me space.
I lean in over the table. “What’s he doing?”
Charisma’s gaze brushes across the restaurant, lingers in their direction, and then comes back to me.
“Well?” I ask
She shrugs. “Looking hot and cocky as usual. Definitely a PILF.” Player I’d Like to Fuck. “Not me,” she adds, “but you know…the rest of the world.”
“Who’s next to him? Jersey chaser?”
She grimaces. “There is a jersey chaser there, but he’s not into her. I’ve been scoping him out periodically and he’s barely looked at her. Blaze is on the other side talking his ear off.”
“He didn’t ask for me to be his waitress tonight,” I say, almost to myself.
“Interesting. No more garçon?”
I shrug. Honestly, I was a little disappointed.
She looks at me. “By the way, remember the guy I hooked up with at the toga party last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Pretty sure it was Blaze.”
I snort and nearly choke on a fry. After taking a long drink from my soda, I say, “How do you know?”
A sheepish grin crosses her face. “Just something he said. Apparently, he was also at that party and can’t remember much of it.” She gets a faraway look on her face. “All I can recall about him is this thing he did with his tongue—”
I hold my hand up. “Just stop right there. I want to be able to talk to him in the future without picturing what you’re about to describe.”
She giggles.
“And back to Ryker…I’m not his type, so nope. You’re wrong.”
Charisma thinks. “Hmmm, if you say so. But you did just bring him up again.”
I tuck more fries in my mouth.
She sighs and smirks down at her curves. “I wish I could eat like you do.”
I Bet You Page 8