We Said Forever

by James, Marie

  I shake my head and scrub my hands over my face, a failed attempt to clear it of all things football and Blaze Porter.

  “So…” Charity begins, “you wanna go to the party now?”

  The arrogance in her voice and smugness pulling at the corners of her mouth annoys me even more now that I know exactly who the blond stranger is.

  “Fat chance,” I say, getting up from the couch, doing my best not to turn my head in the direction of the sultry voice beckoning me from the TV.

  “You can’t be serious,” she huffs as I sweep the crumbs into my hand and walk toward the modest kitchen.

  I laugh when I turn from scraping the mess into the trash to face her. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her hip is tilted out dramatically.

  “You have to go!” she whines. “You’re my in.”

  “I kissed a drunk guy at a party. I’m not an ‘in’. Besides, he’ll be locking lips with some other girl at the next one. I know his type, Char.” It was just a kiss, but I’ll be damned if I want to go to another party to see him showing the same attention to a different girl.

  “His type? You know absolutely nothing about football players,” she counters.

  “Not football players. Bad boys, rogues, pleasure seekers.” I wave a dismissive hand for emphasis. “I know too much about that type of guy. Not interested.”

  “You would do this to me?” Her voice goes from playful disbelief at my rejection to outright bitterness.

  “I’m not keeping you from the party, but I’m not going either.”

  I leave her standing in the kitchen. It’s just a damn party, but she’s acting like her social calendar for the semester depends on my attendance. I have better things to do than worry about college parties and Blaze Porter.

  Chapter 4

  Blaze

  “I’m going upstairs,” Danny slurs in my ear as I walk past him and a few of the guys from the team. Thinking the bourbon on New Year’s was a one-time thing may have been a mistake. The stuff is flowing like water tonight, and I’ve already drank enough to numb the burn as it hits my stomach.

  National fucking Champions.

  Never in my wildest dreams. Stars aligned and the universe’s cosmic energy was somehow on our side Monday. Though, it didn’t hurt that their passing game was off and their defensive line couldn’t handle us. I thought Alabama fans were going to riot when our bus pulled out of the stadium, but the boos and trash they threw our way weren’t even enough to wipe the victorious smile off my face.

  Tilting my head back, I pour more of the golden liquid down my throat.

  “Thanks for the update,” I say, placing my nearly empty bottle of Jim Beam on a low table and watching as it clatters to the floor, having misjudged the distance by at least three inches.

  “Twins!” he screams. “I have fucking twins waiting for me in my room.”

  I grin from ear to ear. “And rather than being up there fucking them, you’re down here bragging about it.”

  He blinks at my words and reaches up, scratching his head. Confusion covers his face as his eyes cut toward the staircase.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, turning and heading in the direction of the twins, who will more than likely be beyond disappointed with his performance. My bet would be he passes out before he can get his dick out of his pants.

  “Hey.” A warm hand caresses the front of my jersey, and I look down, finding a petite redhead slithering her way against my chest. Familiar red lips and glassy eyes look up at me. I grin down at her and squint, trying to recall where I’ve seen her when the realization hits me like a blow to the chest. My grin turns into a full-blown smile and her eyes twinkle as she reads me wrong.

  “You’re you,” I say.

  “I’m me,” she agrees, pressing her bare tits against the front of my jersey. The theme of the night is touchdowns and titties, and God bless the brazen women who took it the extra mile.

  I take a step back, only for her to take a step closer. “You’re the friend of that girl.”

  She bites her bottom lip, and I have the urge to tell her she’s done nothing but smear her over-glossed lipstick across her front teeth, but I have other things to worry about.

  “I have lots of friends,” she purrs. “You wanna be my friend?”

  “The girl who was with you last week…” I begin, pulling my eyes from her and scanning the crowd, “is she here?”

  She shakes her head, going for sexy, but I can read the sudden stiffness in her shoulders at my inquiry. She’s not happy she’s standing in front of me and I’m asking about another woman.

  “She’s not interested in you.”

  I cough an indignant laugh. Not interested? I haven’t met a girl at this school who isn’t interested. Playing hard to get maybe, but I love a good chase.

  “But I’m willing to give you anything you want,” she continues.

  “Where is she?” I ask, ignoring her blatant offer of sex. All the girls here want to fuck the National Champion quarterback. I’ve turned more than a dozen half-naked women down tonight already, and the party just got started an hour ago.

  “Probably at home reading textbooks for a class that doesn’t start for another week.”

  Her attempt at insulting her friend falls flat. I envy a chick who can turn down a party like this to work on her education. I recognize the effort. I did it every second I could before I graduated high school and got my scholarship to LVU.

  “Where does she live?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she huffs, swiping her hands down her sides. It’s not a hardship to look at her fit body. Unfortunately for her, I’m not interested in any girl who’s just going to throw herself at me because I’m on the football team. Those chicks are a dime a dozen.

  “I’m serious,” she says, the seductive purr returning to her voice. “Fallyn isn’t interested in any guy.”

  I grin. Fallyn is the perfect name for her—unusual, exotic, and I can get behind the idea of her being a lesbian.

  “She’s into girls?” I ask, my voice full of hope.

  “Hardly,” she answers. “More like asexual. The only guy I’ve seen her show any interest in over the almost three years I’ve known her is you.”

  My smile grows bigger, and her eyes widen when she realizes what she said.

  “What’s her address?” I ask before I can stop myself. I can’t believe I’m seriously considering leaving a victory party full of easy targets—women guaranteed to do any filthy, dirty thing I can imagine—in exchange for a not-so-sure-thing with a girl I met once. Totally worth the chance.

  “Fuck’s sake,” she mutters. “Lamp Shine Apartments. Three-eighteen.”

  I watch as she walks away, concerned her friendship with Fallyn and my rejection may cause problems down the line, but that nagging fear abates when she slides up against another player’s chest. The smile that spreads across her face when he drapes an arm over her shoulder just before sucking one of her nipples into his mouth is all I need to know I have nothing to worry about.

  I shoot out the front door without a backward glance, searching for a ride. We make all the first-year players play taxi service for upperclassmen at every party. The last thing our first-string players need is a DUI—or worse, a manslaughter charge.

  “Jimmy!” I yell, finding my freshman teammate standing off to the side of the porch trying to flirt his way into some girl’s pants. I snap my fingers to get his attention, and regret fills his eyes as he walks away without so much as her number.

  “I need a ride,” I insist as I move toward the car parked at the curb.

  “Anything for you, Blaze.”

  I climb into the passenger seat as he tugs the keys out of his pocket and gets in on the driver’s side. “Lamp Shine Apartments,” I instruct when he pulls away from the house.

  “You’ve got it,” he says, focusing all his attention on the road, driving like a blue-haired granny on her way to bingo.

  “That your girlfriend back th
ere?”

  “Fuck, man. I wish.”

  “You want some advice?” I offer.

  “Of course!” he responds, his voice eager.

  “Cut your fucking hair, dude. The mullet isn’t working. This is the twenty-first century. Any girl okay with that look isn’t one you want around longer than the second after she swallows your dick.”

  Brows furrowed, he brushes his hand down the long length of his hair at his nape, as if he’s never considered his hillbilly look as the reason for getting shot down all the time.

  “My mom said the style was coming back in,” he fucking pouts, like the child he evidently still is.

  “Maybe in Arkansas, and only for those without access to the outside world,” I mutter as my stomach flips at the left turn he makes at the red light.

  “I’m an LVU national football champion, my hair shouldn’t matter.”

  I laugh, and his face falls further. “How much time did you get on the field?” I raise my brow at him, already knowing the answer.

  “None,” he mutters as we pull up outside one of the nicer apartment complexes just off campus.

  “Wear that ring with pride, man, but don’t expect any girls to buy that champion shit. Well, except some freshmen.”

  “Jerk,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Wait here,” I say, popping my head back in the door before closing it. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  I ignore his grumbling and make my way up the two flights of stairs.

  My first knock goes unanswered, so I bang on the door louder the second time, feeling the sting on my knuckles from the cold.

  Turning my back to the door, I contemplate heading back to the car, wondering if her friend gave me the wrong address or lied about her being home. The door pulls open and I spin around, pulling my hands from my pockets. I rub my still frozen hands together, blowing my hot breath on them. I look like a complete idiot standing outside her apartment in a t-shirt and no jacket. I open my mouth to explain that I was so excited to see her, I didn’t even consider my comfort, but the sight of her makes the words clog in my throat.

  Gone is the sexy red dress and face full of makeup. The incredible woman standing in front of me has on an oversized sweatshirt and lounge pants covered in sugar skulls. I’d never admit this to any of my materialistic friends, but I prefer her like this. The only thing of concern is the messy pile of long brown hair on her head, preventing me from feeling the strands flow through my fingers when I kiss her again.

  “What the—” she begins, halting when I step into her apartment uninvited.

  I walk into her, kissing the shock right off her face. My hands cup near her jaw and I can taste orange juice on her lips.

  Just when I think she’s going to give in and kiss me back, her hands shove at my chest. I distance myself, but only a few inches as my hands find her hips.

  My head snaps to the side as her palm connects with my face, but the sound of the slap echoing off the walls of her small apartment is louder than the pain in my cheek. My hand moves to the injured area out of reflex and I rub it over my jaw, confused.

  “Why would you hit me?” I ask, holding my hands out to my side as she takes several steps away from me.

  “You can’t just show up here and do whatever the hell you want.” Her eyes narrow and I fight the urge to run my thumb over the crease that’s formed on her brow.

  “I thought…” I trail off, watching as her eyes float to my lips, then dart back up to mine. “We kissed on New Year’s. We started our year together, that sort of means you’re mine,” I say with a cocky smile, knowing how ridiculous the words sound as they leave my lips.

  “In what alternate universe?” Normally a woman with such an indignant, apathetic attitude would turn me off, but seeing this little spitfire resist my advances does nothing but make my cock thicken in my jeans.

  “We won the championship,” I wager, stepping closer, trying a different approach.

  “I heard,” she replies with an indifference I haven’t heard from one single person since we returned from Tampa.

  “Why weren’t you at the party?” I hedge, switching subjects again. I take another unsure step, hating how I slightly stumble.

  “You’ve been drinking,” she observes. “I sure hope you didn’t drive here.”

  I pull my head back and take her in. Heavy sigh, crossed arms on her chest—this chick is working very hard not to let me know she’s interested. I give her points for resisting the temptation.

  “I don’t drink and drive, Fallyn. I have a taxi boy.”

  She shakes her head. “You need to leave.”

  “I want to kiss you again,” I bargain.

  She holds her hands up. “Not going to happen, Romeo. Get your taxi boy to drive you back to the hordes of willing women at the party.”

  “I don’t want those women, including your friend.” Her eyes narrow at the information. “I want you.”

  “You’re wasting your time.” I almost believe the sureness in her voice, but I see her fingers flex into a fist at her side. She wants to touch me, but for some fucked up reason, she’s refusing to do so.

  I step closer again, grinning at how she’s holding her ground. For years, I’ve always settled for the women who threw themselves at my feet. I’d never considered exerting effort on a woman who wasn’t open to sexual suggestions the second they rolled off my skilled tongue. “I’m going to kiss you every time I see you. Before you can even utter a word or try to push me away, my lips will be on yours. As many times as it takes, until you realize you’re mine.”

  “Seeing as we don’t run in the same circles, I get the feeling I have nothing to worry about.” Gripping my shoulders, she urges me to turn toward the still open door. “Congrats on the win. Use condoms.”

  The door closes behind me the second I’m over the threshold, the deadbolt clicking into place less than a second later. I grin all the way back to the car. Chasing Fallyn is going to be the best way to start a new semester.

  Chapter 5

  Fallyn

  “That’s ridiculous,” my friend Laura says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. She blows an errant strand of red hair from her forehead as she begins typing.

  “It’s not. I swear. I’d give anything to have those shirtless hunks holding hoops to my body.” Carlie turns her phone around with the video pulled up faster than Laura can manage. “Ellen DeGeneres may be a lesbian, but she sure knows how to entertain her female audience.”

  I shift my backpack loaded with today’s textbooks from my right shoulder to my left. I have no interest in watching videos from afternoon TV shows. Okay, so that part is a lie, but I’ve already seen the video, twice. I have to agree, it was pretty amazing.

  Charity sighs beside me, pulling me from the mental images of guys in shirtless tuxedos. “I’d give my entire trust fund to play the hoop game with the starting lineup of the football team.”

  I can’t help the laugh that slips out of my mouth. “You don’t have a trust fund,” I remind her.

  She shrugs. “If I did, I’d totally arrange something like that, but they’d be naked.”

  A knowing smile reaches across her cheeks. All is right in her world since she finally hooked up with one of the players at the championship celebration.

  Just thinking of the party I refused to attend brings flashes of Blaze to mind—the way he showed up unannounced on my doorstep, the way he kissed me without a word, the way he insisted I was his. Stupid caveman. Who acts like that? Sure, I’ve found it hot on more than one occasion in books I’ve read, but those men don’t exist in real life.

  As if thinking about him conjures him from the ether, I turn my head to see the man of the hour sauntering toward me. The sexy tilt at the right corner of his mouth makes me tingle in a place I won’t even acknowledge in his presence—in anyone’s presence. Self-assurance and narcissism may be hot between the covers of a novel, but it’s coming across as undesirable douc
hiness at the moment.

  His promise from last week sparks in my mind as he closes the distance. I don’t know whether the group of women I’m standing with stop talking or my brain shuts out all sound, but silence fills my ears, only allowing the thunderous pounding of my heart to be heard.

  I hold my hands up to ward him off. More than once, he’s taken liberties without consent. It has to stop at some point, and today seems as good a time as any. Feeling like someone’s mission and toy may have its self-esteem building qualities, but going down any kind of path with a bad boy always ends in heartbreak and betrayal.

  Only…he doesn’t heed my outward unwillingness to participate in whatever he has in mind. He clasps my hands in his and presses his soft, warm lips to mine. I whimper, half in feigned surprise and half in need, allowing his tongue to slip in and wrangle with mine.

  Mint from his toothpaste fills my mouth and the earthy, manly scent of his cologne assaults my nose. My eyes flutter closed of their own volition, all thoughts of denying him evaporating around us. With a sudden show of power, my hands are swung behind my back, a clear display of domination. I wiggle my hands and his grip loosens a fraction. Knowing he’d allow me out of this position if it were what I truly wanted almost causes me to stumble backward. What I won’t evaluate is why I’m leaning into him rather than pulling away. I don’t question why my neck cranes further when he begins to soften the kiss.

  Deep lashes of his tongue turn into soft pecks as he presses his body against mine from shoulders to knees. His lips turn up into a smile against mine and reality slams back into me. My other senses rise, flooding my ears with the snickering and gasps from my cluster of friends. As ridiculous as it seems, my eyes open and the world around me seems brighter, colors fresher, vibrant even.