by Tabatha Kiss
“The Bigger Book of Comedic and Dramatic Monologues,” I read the title aloud. “You act?”
“Occasionally. It’s for a class.”
“What class?”
“Theatre 375.”
“375? Okay, so when you say you act occasionally, what you really mean is…”
She smiles. “It’s my life.”
“Gotcha.” I laugh. “You’re a theatre nerd. That’s cool.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” she says. “I have the approval of the quarterback. My undergraduate life is complete.”
“No, really. I think it’s cool.”
“I highly doubt that.” She side-eyes me. “How about you cut right to it already? I have some memorizing to do.”
I blink. “Cut right to what?”
“You know what.” She reaches between her legs and grabs the coffee cup, dangling it in front of me like an obvious sign.
“Well, I am offended, Alyssa,” I say, placing my palm on my chest. “I was just being nice.”
“We have coffee, we have compliments.” She chuckles. “All we need now is condoms.”
I snap to attention, completely buzzed by the fierce crack of her words. She doesn’t blink, calling me out before I even raise my hand. “Well, since you brought it up…”
“No,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee and flipping her book open again. “Not gonna happen.”
“Worth a shot.” I sit back and take a deep breath to recharge. “So, who was that guy?”
“What guy?”
“The guy in your window the other night,” I say. “He your boyfriend?”
She reluctantly smiles. “No.”
“Does your dad not let you date? What’s going on there?”
“No, I can date. I’m an adult,” she says. “He just doesn’t like me dating footballers.”
“Why not?”
“Because he knows what you’re all like.”
“What are we all like?”
She inhales a quick breath and slides a bookmark into place before setting the book down. “Well, if you’re anything like him — you’re all dirty, cheating, lying scoundrels.”
I feign offense again. “Well, I must say, that’s quite insulting, Alyssa.”
“Insulting…” she agrees, leaning in, “but accurate.”
I realize she’s talking about me. “Says who?”
“Your reputation proceeds you, Junior Morgan.”
“Who have you been talking to?”
She flicks out her fingers as she lists them off. “Maddy Bryant, Samantha Jaxx, Lisa Lawrence, Wilder Beck—”
“Okay, you can stop.” I shake away the quick flashes of faces from my mind. “You’ve proved your point… and done your homework.”
Alyssa chuckles softly as she takes a victory sip from her coffee.
“You make friends very quickly,” I note.
“And you break hearts just as fast.”
I flex my jaw. I crashed and burned before I even sat down. Might as well throw a Hail Mary. I lean closer and soften my voice. “Okay, I’ve broken a few hearts here and there but with those eyes, I’m willing to guess you have, too.”
“Oh, my god.” She laughs, twisting toward me. “You did not just say that.”
“Yes, I did,” I say, owning it.
“Does that line ever work?”
“I’ll let you know.”
She leans over to grab her bag and tosses her books inside. “Thanks for the coffee.”
I watch her stand up, not even hiding the fact that I’m staring at her ass. “We should do it again sometime.”
“Nah,” she says.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not interested.”
“You’re stone cold now, Alyssa Pierce.” I raise a brow. “But later, you’re going to think of this moment, and you’re going to blush.”
She pulls a pair of black sunglasses from her bag and slides them onto her nose. “I doubt it.”
“I don’t.”
“Bye, Junior.”
“Bye, Ally.”
She twitches at the nickname but doesn’t stop her long stride across the grass toward Talon Hall. Her hips give an unnatural sway, almost as if she’s making the view worth my while, but I might just be seeing things.
She tosses her coffee cup into the trash outside and gives the front doors a hard yank, not even offering me a glance back as she disappears inside.
Shit. I’m officially late for geometry.
It was worth it.
CHAPTER 4
ALYSSA
I take one step into Talon Hall and Grant juts out in front of me.
“What’d he say?”
I gasp. “Jeez, Grant, don’t you have other things to do?”
“No. Junior Morgan just bought you coffee and sat down beside you for ninety-seven seconds.”
“You counted?”
“What’d he say? Tell me now.”
I roll my eyes as I continue toward the classrooms. “I think you can probably guess.”
Grant follows so closely our elbows bump with each step. “Did he ask you out?”
“I slammed on the brakes before he got the chance.”
“What?” His face contorts as if I just smacked him. “Wh-wh-wh-why? Why would you do that?”
“You’re the one who said he was a player.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” He chuckles as I do. “It’s Junior Morgan, Alyssa.”
“So?”
“So, he plays to win — if you know what I mean.”
I squint. “I don’t think I do…”
He sighs. “Junior doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Creepy.”
“In a good way! Once a girl is in his sights, he doesn’t stop until she’s screaming yes and, trust me, you want to be that girl screaming yes for Junior Morgan.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
He points over my shoulder. “Go back out there and tell him you’ll go out with him.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I continue through the lobby. “Because even if I wanted to go out with him, I can’t. He’s on the football team. My dad would flip his shit if he found out.”
Grant deflates, his vicarious dreams dashed upon the rocks. “I forgot about that. You’re supposed to be playing Daddy’s little princess…”
“Yeah,” I remind him. “Sorry, Grant. I won’t be screaming yes for Junior Morgan.”
“But you want to, right?” he teases, nudging my ribs.
I blush. I fucking blush. Just like Junior said I would.
“No,” I say.
“Liar.”
“I’m sure there are worse ways to spend an evening, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Find a monologue for the fall semester showcase yet?” he asks me, shrugging as he changes the subject.
I reach into my messenger bag for his book. “Not quite. Need your book back?”
“Keep it. I have like three copies of that thing.”
“Thanks for helping me out, Grant.” I let the book settle into the bottom of my bag. “Mr. Young kind of put the fear of God in me.”
“Don’t sweat it. The guy’s a cuddly puppy on the inside. Just stick to the classic, romantic monologues. He likes those. But don’t blubber during the emotional scenes. It’s too Streep. He hates that.”
I nod. “I can handle that.”
He throws his arm around my shoulders. “I know you can — because you have to. I’ve been waiting two years for a halfway decent ingenue to stroll through here.”
“So, I’m halfway decent?”
“You’re more than decent. You’re Bergman to my Bogart, baby. We are going to blow Young’s frail old mind at the audition.”
I grin, completely seduced by his pep-talk. “Yeah. You’re right!”
“I’m always right.” He releases my shoulders. “I need to get to class. I’ll meet you back here tonight and on Friday —
we shine!”
I wave him goodbye and he spins around toward the auditorium. Once he’s gone, I pause and turn around to gaze through the windows at the quad. Junior’s long gone now, not that it matters.
I’m Daddy’s little princess.
And she doesn’t date footballers.
This place is a damn labyrinth.
I’ve only been to the athletic center once before. Now, I wish I’d asked for Dad to meet me outside. I’m pretty sure I’ve passed that janitor’s closet three times now.
I round a corner and spot a familiar face in Bob, the assistant coach.
“Hey, Bob,” I greet, relieved.
His wrinkled eyes barely glance up from his clipboard. “Hey, darling,” he says. Bob’s only known me a few weeks, but he always calls me darling. He’s such a lovable old man, so I find it difficult to feel upset about it.
“Have you seen my father?” I ask. “I’m meeting him here for lunch.”
“In the locker room, last I saw him,” he murmurs, pointing over his shoulder with his pen.
I think to walk inside but pause, reading the MEN’S sign on the door.
“Go on in,” Bob adds, reading my hesitation. “The team’s cleared out already. Check the office in the back.”
“Thanks, Bob.”
“If not, just keep your eyes on the floor.”
He chuckles softly. Dirty old man.
I smile and push the door open, instantly struck in the face with hot steam from recently run showers.
“Dad?” I call, my voice echoing throughout the room. It’s dead silent, save for the occasional tap of a dripping showerhead and the sound of my boots thumping beneath me. “Mr. Car-y P-ier-ce?” I say, adding vibrato and listening to it echo back at me.
I walk toward the office in the back, performing quick head tilts around corners as the rows of lockers pass me by.
A white towel comes into view, tossed around the naked hips of a man standing before the last row of lockers.
“Oh—!” I halt, nearly slipping on the moist floor. My eyes crash down, just like Bob told me to, and I keep them there. “Sorry, he told me the team wasn’t here and—”
“It’s okay, Ally.”
His chuckle fires down my spine.
I look up. It’s Junior in nothing but a damp, white towel. His skin is wet with little rivulets of water still tumbling to his toes. I press my lips together, my eyes instantly drawn to the toned muscles pushing hard beneath his skin.
Whoa.
“Oh, Ally.” He whistles. “I’m up here.”
I clear my throat and force my eyes to meet his. “I was just looking—”
“For your dad.” He grins as he reaches into his open locker for a deodorant stick.
“Right.” I take a breath. “Why didn’t you say you were in here?”
“Well, you weren’t screaming my name.” He shoots me the briefest of glances. Just enough to see if I’m still gawking at him.
I am.
Heat spreads over my skin. It’s far too warm in here for this sweater, but there’s no way I’m taking it off with Junior Morgan standing half buck in front of me. A bead of sweat travels down my back, tickling my nerves with welcome discomfort.
“He left a few minutes ago,” Junior adds. “Before I got in the shower.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I turn my back to him, eager to put a mile of distance between us before I let that Adonis belt of his turn me extra stupid.
“Leaving so soon?” he asks, amusement dripping off his tone. “You just got here.”
Don’t turn around.
Just be quiet and leave.
I turn around and look at him, my pulse quickening at the wet strands of his dark hair poking down over his eyes.
Extra stupid.
“You’re naked,” I say.
He shrugs. “I know.”
“So, that means I should leave.”
“If you wanted to leave, you would have left by now.”
I twist away, spinning on my heels to take me far, far away from that throbbing magnet begging to keep me here. “Bye, Junior.”
“Wait. Come here.”
“I have to meet my dad.”
“It’ll only take a minute, Ally. I promise.”
I pause, a battle raging between my head and my core. When I look back at him, he turns to face me and draws an X over his upper chest, slicing two lines through the moisture built up on his skin. Water runs downward, dripping along the small Greek letters tattooed on his right abs.
Alpha Delta Xi.
“Cross my heart,” he says. “Come here.”
“Why?” I ask, stalling.
“Because I have a theory and I would like to test it.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a science enthusiast, Junior.”
He smirks. “Just biology.”
I cross my arms, trying to ignore the next wave of heat coursing through me. Everything about him bleeds confidence, and I despise him for it. Mostly because it’s working exactly how he wants. I’m pretty sure the wetness between my thighs isn’t from the steam in here.
“Come here,” he says again. “No games, no bullshit. Just come here.”
My feet pull me forward on their own, bridging the distance between us. As I move closer, I see the finer details of his body. A freckle here. A scar there. Water glistens against his skin. Or is it sweat? Does it matter?
“Touch me.”
I snap out of it. “Huh? No—”
“Come on, Ally.” Junior stands up a little taller, his hooded eyes calling every bluff I have in me. “I can tell you want to. Just do it.”
My lungs take quick, shallow breaths, never quite satisfied with the thick locker room air. I reach out, pointing one finger, and slowly trace it over his abs.
He flexes against my touch, protruding them even more and I can’t help but suck in my bottom lip.
A sinister chuckle. “Ally.”
I twitch. “What?”
“I wasn’t talking about my abs.”
My eyes jump to his. He waits, refusing to even blink as he locks me in place using only the power of his gaze. My fingers tremble against his wet skin, easily gliding down his torso toward the towel tied loosely over his hips. Still, I don’t look away. Neither of us looks away as I slip a lone finger beneath the towel.
And pull.
It falls to the locker room floor.
I glance downward, bewitched by the stunning V-shape pointing down to his…
Um.
Whoa.
I lick my lips, tasting sweetness in the air. My fingers twitch, moving on instinct, drawing a line down his dripping happy trail. I admire his Adonis belt again, but that only whips up a mental image of my tongue gliding over it. I can practically taste the clean water on his skin.
I connect with his gorgeous eyes again as my fingertips reach the base of his rock-hard cock.
Junior places both hands on the locker behind my head, trapping me between them. “Don’t worry. It won’t bite,” he teases. “Well, it might spit.”
I bite down to keep from laughing. I let my touch crawl, following the trail of pulsing veins along his shaft.
His brown irises twitch. A sharp inhale invades his nose. I like it. I like how much desire he breathes from a single touch.
I want to hear it again.
I reach the head of his cock and pause, holding back.
Junior growls softly, just barely audible behind his breath. “You see what you do to me, Ally?”
I nod.
He leans closer. His wet chest presses against me. His lips brush my cheek. “Do I do the same to you?”
I quiver, barely breathing.
“Alyssa?”
Fuck.
My father.
“Oh, shit!” I whisper.
Falling to the floor, I crawl away from Junior, bolting around to the next aisle of lockers to hide out of sight.
Junior follows me, staying upright. “What are you doing?”
he asks as he casually re-wraps his towel around his waist.
“Alyssa, are you in here?” my father calls from the doorway.
“Hiding,” I say.
Junior smirks with confusion, lowering his voice to meet my whisper. “Why?”
“Because if he finds me here, I’m in deep shit.”
“But you came in here looking for him.”
“And I found you instead, and he really doesn’t want me talking to you guys.”
His eyes sparkle. “Really?”
“If he finds you talking to me, he’ll have you running laps until sundown.”
He considers it, chewing his cheek. “Worth it.”
“Come on, Junior—”
“Who’s in here?” my father shouts.
Junior leans down. “Go out with me tonight and I’ll tell him you’re not here.”
My cheeks turn red, but I’m far from blushing. “Are you fucking serious?”
He grins as my father’s shoes tap against the floor.
“Fine,” I spit in response.
Junior winks at me and turns away, strategically holding his towel together to keep Junior junior from springing out in front of his coach.
“Hey, Coach,” I hear him say by his locker.
“Hey, Junior.”
I focus my hearing, trying to pinpoint my father’s exact location in case I have to move. Unfortunately, my heart is pounding so loudly I can barely hear him at all. My fingers throb, the memory of what I just did still alive on them.
I touched Junior Morgan’s dick.
I shove my hands into my sweater pockets.
“Have you seen Alyssa?” he asks. “Bob said she came in here.”
“Nope, haven’t seen her,” Junior lies. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, we were supposed to meet for lunch today.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
Goddammit, Junior.
I reach into my bag, sifting quietly through the pockets to find my phone, unsure if I left it silenced.
“I’ll try. Thanks, Junior.”
“Anytime, Coach.”
I sigh with relief as my fingers wrap around my phone and I flick the switch to silence it. One second later, it vibrates in my palm.
Dad calling.
I exhale until my lungs fight for air, listening to the sound of his shoes fading off toward the door.
Junior appears over me again, his expression smug as fuck. “You’re welcome,” he says.