by Tara Sivec
“She thinks it’s all still pretend until I make the formal announcement that we aren’t together,” I finally tell the guys.
Pride fills me as I watch Emily give the girls a pep talk in a huddle on the sidelines, especially knowing she gave up a few hours of her free time this afternoon when the cheerleading coach got sick to fill in with practice and help them fine-tune some things.
“And when are you doing that?” Shepherd asks.
“Hold on, let me check.” Setting the box of popcorn down by my feet, I lean to the side, pull my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts, and start scrolling through my email. “Oh yeah, here it is. That would be never.”
The guys all let out roars of laughter as I slide my phone back into my shorts and lean down to pick up my popcorn.
“This is awesome. You’re definitely gonna need some advice from the experts,” Bodhi says, still chuckling as he brings the bag of chips up to his mouth and tips it back to get all the crumbs.
“He should find out what her favorite color is, add up how many days they’ve known each other, then have that many colored roses delivered to her cottage. I know a guy. I can hook you up with a good discount.”
“Nah. He should just screw her brains out repeatedly until she forgets what she was even mad about. I’ve got the keys to the 8th hole maintenance shed at the golf course you can borrow.”
“My dude should maybe just tell her he’s crazy about her and that none of this is pretend for him.”
“That’s dumb. He should definitely set up a candlelight dinner on the beach. I’ve got two-hundred glass votive candle holders just sitting in a box in a closet. They’re all yours.”
“Screw her on Birdie’s desk after hours. I’ve got a spare key to her office I can leave under the welcome mat at your cottage.”
“Take her on a helicopter ride over the island at sunset, but make sure Bodhi is not in charge of writing a romantic message on the beach down below.”
“Do you know how many compliments I got on that giant sand penis? You should see the pictures of the ones I did in the snow in West Virginia. Perfection! I’m telling you, man—honesty is the best policy.”
“You do realize if he comes clean with her now, the fun is over, right? That’s a boring story no one wants to tell their grandchildren. We need more drama and excitement first. He should screw her—”
“Is there anywhere you and Birdie haven’t screwed?”
“Is there anywhere you and Wren haven’t screwed?”
“Touché.”
“If you aren’t going to tell her how you feel, then let me give you our new friend Allie’s number. Maybe a weekend away in the mountains of West Virginia will make her not want to punch you in the face.”
“Why is it whenever I find you yahoos together, you’re always talking about your feelings?”
The guys finally all shut up with their rapid-fire advice, when an older gentleman who looks like a really pissed-off Santa interrupts them, standing in the aisle of the bleachers right next to us.
“Quinn, this is Murphy Swallow. Murphy, this is the great Quinn Bagley,” Palmer introduces.
“He was Wren and Birdie’s neighbor growing up and is kind of like a fill-in grandfather for all the girls,” Shepherd adds as I stand up and hold my hand out to the older gentleman.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“I’m not impressed by you” is all Murphy says, bringing his drink up to his mouth and taking a loud, slurping sip from the straw.
“He’s also always got a stick up his ass.” Palmer snorts, making Murphy glare at him before turning his grumpy Santa eyes back my way, and I finally drop my hand, since he’s clearly not going to shake it.
“Emily is a sweet girl. A little too peppy for my liking sometimes, but sweet. If you take away any of that sweetness, I will lodge a 9-iron into your skull.”
“Always a pleasure seeing you, Murph!” Bodhi salutes him as Murphy just walks away after that, heading up the stairs of the bleachers to sit closer to the press box.
“Whatever you decide, we’re here for you, man,” Shepherd reassures me with a pat on the back when I take my seat again.
“But if you piss her off—”
“I know, I know, don’t let Tess near any lighters,” I finish for Bodhi.
He just laughs, snatching my M&M’s off the bench before I can stop him and quickly scooting at least ten feet down on the bleacher seat, out of reach.
“Oh, that became a full-time job I just didn’t have time for anymore. I was going to say, just make sure you aren’t wearing any synthetic fibers around her. But you’re an athlete. I’m sure you can stop, drop, and roll faster than anyone.”
“The field has emptied out now, so you can leave whenever you’re done and drop the keys off to me tomorrow. I’d stay and help, but I think you two have got it covered.”
I give Wren a smile and a conspiratorial wink behind Emily’s back, while she’s busy pushing a box of Snickers onto a shelf in the cupboard below the counter, before I shove a case of water in the cooler. Wren is currently smiling at me through the concession stand window like the cat who ate the canary and is most definitely getting out of here to give us time alone, now that everyone else has gone home. Emily volunteered to close up the stand at the end of the steak fry, and it only took ten minutes of arguing before she finally agreed to let me help her.
I’m making progress. A few weeks ago, it would have taken at least thirty minutes.
Since the concession stand is shared between the baseball, softball, and football teams, and Shepherd is the high school varsity baseball coach, Wren is the team mom who manages the concession stand during baseball season. She has the master keys, and she’s in charge of setting up the schedule to make sure there are enough volunteers to work the stand during events and games and that the place is always fully stocked.
“Don’t lie. You’re rushing out of here to make sure you pick up Owen from his first date at 11:00 p.m. on the dot and not a second later.” Emily laughs, splaying her hands out flat on either side of her on the counter.
“You’ll be happy to know I agreed with you that he might want to talk to a man immediately following such a momentous occasion, and I let Shepherd go pick him up from that skank’s house at 11:00 p.m. on the dot and not a second later.” Wren smiles back at Emily.
“I thought you said she was a very nice girl,” I remind her with a laugh as I close and lock the cupboard next to Emily’s hip, where all the chocolate bars are stored.
“She is a very nice girl. Polite, sweet, a straight-A student, and captain of the freshman volleyball team.” Wren sighs, grabbing her golf cart keys from the counter where she left them and taking a few steps back from the open window. “But any girl who wants to date my baby will be a skank from now until the end of time. I’m going to go home now and wait by the door, so I can shower him with hugs and kisses as soon as he gets back and remind him that he can never, ever leave me.”
“Good God… if I ever have a kid, please don’t let it be a boy. You’re psychotic.” Emily shakes her head at her best friend, making me laugh at the dynamic between the two of them.
“I can’t believe you’ve already forgotten about Chocolate Torte Bagley. You are a horrible food baby mother. Very neglectful.” I tsk, which earns me an eye roll and a smack on the arm from Emily.
“I just can’t handle how cute you two are together,” Wren gushes, pausing from backing away from the building to look back and forth between us through the small window.
“We’re not together,” Emily reminds Wren, making me want to let out a loud, deep sigh.
I keep that shit to myself, leaning down to put my mouth right against Emily’s ear instead. “Wasn’t I just inside you last week?”
Emily immediately starts choking on the drink of soda from the can she just picked up, which she’s been sipping off and on while we were closing up, and I pat her on the back until she shoos me away with her hand and an
annoyed glare.
Wren finally says goodbye and disappears around the corner, and a few seconds later, the bright flood lights surrounding the football field go out, plunging everything surrounding this tiny brick building into complete darkness.
“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” Emily mutters, tossing her empty soda can in the garbage and starting to back away from the counter, but she’s immediately stopped by the solid wall of my chest.
Resting my hands on either side of hers on the counter, I lean closer until my chest is pressed up against her back, dipping my head down and pressing my lips to the side of her neck.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, moaning quietly when my tongue darts out to taste her skin.
I smile against Emily’s neck as she tilts her head to the side to give me better access. Taking one of my hands off the counter, I slide my arm around her waist, securing her against the front of me, as I pepper kisses up the side of her neck until I get to her ear.
“I’ve always wanted to do dirty things with my cheerleader girlfriend at a football field,” I whisper, gently tugging her earlobe through my teeth until I feel her shiver against the front of me.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I told myself I wouldn’t touch her again until we finally had a talk and she stopped pretending with me, but I just can’t help myself. She really is a bigger obsession than football, and not just because I know the skin of her chest flushes when she comes or the raspy way she says my name when she does.
I want more of this life. I want to fuck her while she’s wearing a fancy dress at a charity event on Friday and hold her hand while she’s wearing shorts and a tee at the Dip and Twist on Saturday. I want to feel that excited knot in my stomach every time I get another text from her, just waiting to see what smartass comment will come out of her next. I want to watch her roll her eyes and snatch my cell phone out of my hand to change the song during one of our runs when she hates the choice I made. I just want her in my life, and I want it to mean something, and I want it all to be real.
Removing my other hand from the counter where Emily still has hers flattened, still refusing to look back at me, I run the tips of my fingers down her bare arm. Goose bumps pebble her skin in the wake of my fingers, and her chest starts rising and falling more rapidly when I drop my hand and start skimming my fingers back and forth over the exposed skin of her stomach that’s been torturing me all night long, right above the button of her shorts.
“Are you going to let your hot football player boyfriend, who just made the winning catch at the state championships, do dirty things to the captain of the cheer squad in the concession stand?” I tease against the side of her ear while my fingers continue teasing back and forth across her stomach.
Emily’s head drops forward with a small laugh, pressing her hands harder into the counter and grinding her ass against my cock that’s been trying to bust out of my shorts since the minute I met her here earlier and saw her wearing my jersey.
“Who says you made the winning catch?” she pants as I crowd her more against the counter, needing to feel every inch of her hot body against mine, while my fingers make quick work of the button and zipper of her shorts. I bury my face into her hair falling around the side of her face and breathe her in, my palm flattened against her belly as she pants out a few more words. “You probably shit the bed, the whole school hates you, and now I’m here to save the day and console you with my magic vagina.”
Christ, this woman….
My chest rumbles with laughter against her back, and I take a second to enjoy the musical notes of her own laughter echoing around this small room, before I quickly put an end to it by dipping my hand right down into the opening of her shorts.
“Oh my God.”
“Fucking hell,” Emily and I groan at the same time when my fingers slide between her legs.
She’s wet. So goddamn wet for me.
No one has ever felt this perfect, sounded this perfect, smelled this perfect, or been so made for me in every possible way. I’ve never been this hungry for a woman. Never wanted to tear down every wall in the fucking room with the need to bring her pleasure.
A choked gasp comes out of Emily when I swirl two of my fingers through all that wet heat, bringing them up to circle her swollen clit, loving the way she whimpers and squirms in my arms, churning her hips and wanting more. Loving the way she trusts me so freely with her body. Loving every minute of making her lose control against my hand, holding her securely against me.
“You feel so good on my fingers, baby. So fucking wet,” I mutter against her ear, nudging her legs open wider with my knees. My goddamn balls ache with every panting, whimpering breath that comes out of her and with each jerk of her ass back against me while I continue to circle her clit with the pads of two of my fingers, drenched in her wetness. “You did such a good job tonight. You definitely deserve a reward.”
Dipping my fingers back down into her wet heat, I pump two of them in and out of her, squeezing my eyes closed against the side of Emily’s face, doing everything I can not to rut against her ass that keeps grinding back against me, wanting this to just be about her.
“Yep, such a good job,” Emily pants, one of her hands flying up off the counter to grip onto my arm anchored around her waist, as I keep shallowly thrusting my fingers inside her, trying not to remember how tightly she clenched my cock when I took her against the wall. Brushing my thumb back and forth over her swollen bud, her hips thrust forward, urging me deeper and making me grit my teeth. “I’m the best fake girlfriend ever. Maybe that should be my new career. Although I’ll have to charge extra for these kinds of perks, QB.”
My hand immediately stills between her legs.
She thinks I’m talking about her doing a good job pretending to be my girlfriend? For fuck’s sake.…
When I’m talking about all the hard work she put into practicing with the girls, helping serve the steak dinner, helping clean up, coaching the girls from the sidelines, being the proudest mama bear in the world when they nailed every move, and happily helping her best friend out at the concession stand at the end of the night, even though I know she must be exhausted after working all day, on top of everything else.
My heart pounds in my chest, and there’s a loud buzzing in my ears that won’t go away as I tug her back harder against the front of me with a huff, squeezing my eyes closed again when I feel her clench around my fingers that are still buried inside her.
“Cut that shit out,” I whisper hoarsely in her ear, her hand gripping harder to my arm that’s locked tight around her body. “I’m Quinn, and you’re Emily. When we do this, when you trust me enough to let me inside your body, you fucking trust me enough to call me by my goddamn name. When we do this, it’s fucking real, and it’s not pretend.”
Emily doesn’t say a word except for a quiet sob she tries to stifle unsuccessfully, and it completely breaks my fucking heart in two, but her silence right now tells me she’s not ready to hear this.
Not even weeks of two-a-days, daily training in the gym, or hour after hour of slamming into the blocking sled prepares me for the kind of strength it takes to pull my hand out of Emily’s body and slide my other arm out from under her hand that’s still clutching my forearm, letting go of my tight hold on her. Taking a few steps back, I cram my hands into the front pockets of my shorts before I’m tempted to walk right back up to her and put them on any part of her body she’ll let me again.
I know I’m going to be cursing myself for the rest of time for this, but I need her to understand what’s going on. Bodhi’s right. Honesty really is the best policy, and right now, I don’t care if she’s not ready to hear it, because I have to say it. I’ve been a chickenshit for long enough.
“This isn’t pretend for me. Nothing about this has been fake for me since the first day you puked your way into my life.” I pause, wishing she would turn around and give me the finger or call me an ass. Since she doesn’t and just keeps her hands on the co
unter in front of her with her head bowed, I keep going and speak to her back, because nothing is going to stop me from getting this out now. “I will hate myself for the rest of my life that I was such a goddamn pussy and didn’t just ask you out on a real date like I should have. Because you deserved that. You deserved for me to tell you on the beach that first day jogging that I couldn’t stop thinking about you from the first moment I met you. For five months, even when I didn’t know your goddamn full name, I couldn’t stop thinking about this beautiful, smart, funny woman who lit up my fucking life for a few hours one night, when I was feeling sorry for myself.”
I pause, watching Emily’s shoulders move up and down faster with each word I say, wishing she’d just turn around, and give me those gorgeous green eyes of hers. I take a few deep breaths before I continue when she doesn’t move.
“And when I pulled my head out of my ass and realized you really were a good, honest, and kind person who wasn’t trying to screw me over, I should have told you that. I should have told you that I have adored you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, even when you were insulting me in my own home. I let you slip away from me once, and when I found you again, there was no way in hell I was going to make that same mistake twice. I really wanted to date you, and I really wanted you to say yes, but I didn’t think you would, so I chickened out. I made it all about playing pretend, just so you wouldn’t tell me to get the hell off your island again, and just so you’d let me spend time with you again and light up my fucking life again with your smile, and your sarcasm, and how you just let me be me. You keep me on my toes, and you keep me grounded at the same time. You drive me fucking crazy, and I love every minute of it. But I don’t want anything to be fake anymore, Emily. I want to see where this could go, when you stop pretending like you don’t want this to be real. I really like you, and I think you really like me too, but you’re afraid.”
That does it. That makes my little fireball finally whirl around and face me, with heat in her eyes and her hands on her hips.
“For five months, you couldn’t stop thinking about me so much you never even tried to find me.”