Playing With Trouble

by Chanel Cleeton

  Oh my god.

  I didn’t know what was hotter: that he was spending his free time hanging out with a bunch of kids who probably didn’t have a lot of male role models in their lives; or the way his muscles rippled with each movement, the dripping sweat, the utter maleness of his body. And then his head turned and he caught sight of me standing with the group of girls, and he lifted his hand in a friendly wave, a smile on his face that was younger and happier than any I’d seen on him.

  Gah.

  I thought I waved back, but with all of the emotions running through me, and the whole remembering to breathe thing, I wasn’t convinced I had control over my motor skills.

  “I’m volunteering every week,” Caitlin vowed from her spot standing next to me.

  I choked back a laugh.

  “Did you know he was going to be here?” she asked, her voice incredulous.

  I shook my head, still not trusting my words. Gray hadn’t mentioned anything about volunteering at the school; I’d figured he was going to take a more hands-off supervisory role.

  “He’s been coming down here a couple times a week,” Anna, the girl nearest us, commented with a mischievous grin.

  I reddened, mortified to be caught perving on my law school professor by an eighth grader, the sight of Gray momentarily distracting me from the fact that I wasn’t alone. Then again, no one was exactly looking at me. I nudged Caitlin again, but she definitely wasn’t paying me attention, her focus solely on the basketball court.

  “Caitlin!”

  Her head jerked away from the court. “What?”

  “We should probably go take the girls to do something.” Besides ogle our professor.

  Caitlin groaned. “Do I have to, Mom?”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “Come on. The view will still be there,” I teased.

  I led the girls over to the far side of the gym. Caitlin finally snapped out of it and showed the girls gymnastics moves that they soon began emulating while we waited for the game to end and the courts to become available.

  I’d never tumbled, but ballet had left me with a few moves. I was in the middle of demonstrating how to do a split when I heard a flurry of giggles and all attention suddenly focused on a point behind me.

  I knew he was behind me without even having to look. I didn’t know if it was the scent of his cologne, or the cat-and-mouse game we played—and in this case I was beginning to think I was the cat—but either way, I’d become remarkably attuned to all things Graydon Canter.

  I turned and was treated to the sight of Gray walking toward me.

  His smile deepened as our gazes locked.

  “Hey.”

  I smiled back, trying to look nonchalant, like I hadn’t been drooling over him for the last hour. I most likely failed.

  “Hey.”

  Gray flashed that same smile at the girls.

  “Do you guys want to play basketball? Sorry we’ve been hogging the court. Some of the guys still want to play if you’re interested.”

  Anna, who was clearly the ringleader, spoke for the group. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

  I watched as the other five girls followed her like a row of ducks to the middle of the court where a group of guys stood waiting for them, dribbling the ball. I grinned. There were definitely some romantic sparks going off in the group.

  Caitlin hovered near us for a moment, as if she wanted to speak, but I watched in amazement as her cheeks flushed and instead she just nodded her head and took off, following the girls. I’d gotten so used to the side of Gray that I knew—the side that could be playful when he wanted to be—that I’d forgotten everyone else still saw him as utterly terrifying.

  Although, to be fair, he could definitely be that as well.

  Gray grinned at me. “I take it my reputation is still intact? My name continues to strike fear in the hearts of 1Ls everywhere.”

  I bit back a laugh.

  “Basically. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Caitlin be so quiet.”

  “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  I jerked my head toward the group of boys chatting with the girls on the court. “I’m surprised you stopped playing. You looked like you were having fun.”

  He shot me an amused look, dipping his head so we stood closer together. He was still a little sweaty—not in a gross way, but in a, I want to lick your abs, sort of way. I bit down on my lip.

  “Let’s just say that everyone’s concentration wobbled a bit when the girls came into the gym,” he murmured.

  A smile tugged at my lips. “Playing middle school matchmaker?”

  His eyes gleamed. “They weren’t the only ones who were distracted, Splits.”

  I died. Twice.

  He smiled down at me, his back to everyone else, the moment a secret between us.

  I was turned on, sexually frustrated, and ready to throw caution to the wind. My voice shook as I tried to speak past the emotion and arousal that clogged my throat.

  “I didn’t know you were volunteering here,” I commented, struggling to keep from reaching out, grabbing his T-shirt, and hauling his mouth to mine.

  If you looked up “sexually frustrated” in the dictionary, you’d get a picture of my face. If you looked up “temptation” in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of his.

  His expression was almost sheepish, another side of him I hadn’t seen before.

  “I started during fall break. I come a few days a week. It’s cool. They’re good kids. I help them out with homework sometimes, although I have to admit, they’re severely testing my math skills, and I occasionally play basketball, which I am far better at.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

  It was a big deal. It was him trying. Just like when he bought me coffee to make me feel better. Or explained the Commerce Clause to me. It was all the little things he’d been doing along the way that, strung together, meant a lot.

  I was falling in love with him.

  The truth of it knocked me back, and it was almost a minute before I could speak. Moments passed while he just stared down at me with a quizzical, searching look as I attempted to process this change.

  I knew it was a tricky situation, but we were two weeks away from finals and the semester was almost over. I could understand waiting until he wasn’t officially my teacher anymore, but it pissed me off that he wasn’t willing to give us a chance, period.

  He smiled at me when he saw me, said hi, talked to me about the pro bono project. We’d almost become friends. But what had happened between us on Halloween was never repeated, despite the tension that swirled around us.

  “You okay?” he asked, concern in his gaze.

  I nodded, not sure I trusted my voice enough to speak.

  “You didn’t tell me you were so good at basketball.”

  It was the lamest thing to say, and the world’s most awkward transition, but so much easier than, I think I’m in love with you. Considering he’d freaked out when we’d kissed, I figured a declaration of love would send him running and screaming in the opposite direction.

  Epic fail.

  He gifted me with another heartbreaking grin. “Yeah, I played a bit when I was a kid.” He shot me a pointed look. “You didn’t tell me you were so bendy.”

  Bendy? I remembered the split, and my heart picked up a beat.

  Fuck.

  The back and forth was killing me. We kissed, he told me it couldn’t happen again. He fingered me on Halloween, told me we could only be friends. And he flirted. Constantly. He was sweet, sexy, and little by little, he carved a space in my heart with his name on it.

  The stakes were too high, there was too much at risk for me. Either he wanted me, or he didn’t, but either way, he had to decide.

  “You can’t keep doing this.”

  The words came out before I even realized I felt them, and then as soon as I said it, I knew. I couldn’t let myself love him if there wasn’t a chance he would love me back.

  The smile slid off his face
.

  My voice shook, but I said it anyway.

  “I want you. If that means waiting a few weeks, fine. But I’m done playing this game. Either you want me, or you don’t. Stop jerking me around.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. Tell me you’re not, every time you touch me, kiss me, smile at me. You say we can’t be physical, and then you tell me I’m bendy. You flirt with me. Constantly. And don’t just say it’s your personality, because I’ve never seen you talk to anyone the way you talk to me. If you want me, do something about it. If you don’t, fine. I’m a big girl. I can deal. But either way, make up your mind.”

  And then I walked away.

  Gray

  “Was that your girlfriend?”

  I turned and looked down at Jason, one of the kids who liked to hang out and play ball after school.

  It was really not good when I was so obvious that an eighth grader could tell. I glanced over to where Blair stood with her friend, Caitlin, worry ramming into me.

  How long before people started to figure out that there was something between us? How long before I fucked this up, too? Considering the words she’d just hurled at me, had I already screwed up with her?

  My jaw clenched. “No.”

  He winked at me. “She’s hot.”

  “Watch it.”

  He laughed. “I’m just saying, if I were you, I’d lock her down.”

  I tried to keep my expression serious, but failed in the face of this scrawny, backward-cap-wearing kid giving me romantic advice.

  I blinked. “How old are you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Jesus.

  “That’s my girlfriend.” He nodded proudly, pointing to a pretty blonde girl shooting hoops. I’d seen her around and she seemed like a nice kid.

  Jason grinned. “Like I said, gotta lock ’em down.”

  He was one of my favorites in the after-school program. He didn’t talk about his family, but the principal had mentioned that his dad took off when he was a kid and his mom worked two jobs supporting Jason and his younger brother. Whatever his family situation, the kid always had a smile on his face. And he was smart.

  “Trust me,” I muttered. “Sometimes it’s not that easy.”

  He just flashed me that same cocky grin. “You just gotta have game.”

  “Maybe I can borrow some then,” I joked, unable to remain stern in the face of this kid’s exuberance.

  “Nah. You got game. You just need to know how to use it.”

  Well, this ranked up there with one of the most surreal moments of my life. I’d had a few friends back in Chicago before I blew up my life. I’d never been all that social, but there had been guys I’d studied with, guys I’d played basketball with on Sunday afternoons. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost all of that. It was pathetic to admit, but not only did I have a shit relationship with my family, I’d alienated myself from any friends.

  I was alone, and I only had myself to blame for it. And then there was Blair. It wasn’t just that she was sexy, she genuinely felt like a friend. And she was right—

  I had no clue what I was doing with her.

  “You going to be around for this Thanksgiving thing?” Jason asked.

  I nodded.

  “Cool. I’ll see you there.” Jason extended his hand and gave me the handshake we’d developed.

  I watched him walk away, a smile tugging at my mouth, and then my gaze drifted over to where Blair stood shooting hoops with some of the girls. Trying, at least. Basketball was definitely not her game. But none of that mattered. The smile on her face was everything. Her laugh floated through the gym and something tightened in the vicinity of my heart.

  I couldn’t stay away from her. And she was right, I was being a dick by jerking her around. I was too selfish to walk away and too afraid to take a chance. She deserved someone better than me, but for whatever insane reason, I was the one she wanted. And I was so tired of keeping her at arm’s length. Maybe it was time to stop worrying about being the good guy, and time to start going after what—who—I wanted.

  In the immortal words of an eighth grade boy, it was time to lock it down.

  Chapter Seventeen

  New allegations of misuse of campaign funds plague Senator Reynolds . . .

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Blair

  I stared at the screen, regretting the decision to create an email alert to let me know anytime my last name was mentioned. Thanks to Capital Confessions, it was becoming an increasingly frequent occurrence. Especially, where my father was concerned.

  I hadn’t heard from either one of my parents since my phone call with my mother, so I had no clue how much of the stuff was even true, but he was definitely in the blog’s crosshairs. Whatever my father had expected, it appeared that his reelection had bought him a heap of trouble.

  My phone lit up with an incoming text message.

  Want to ride to the Thanksgiving dinner together?

  My heartbeat picked up as I read his name above the text. I hadn’t seen Gray since the basketball day, also known as the day I discovered that he had ink on his bicep and an even better body than I’d imagined under his suit.

  How did you get my number? I texted back.

  He’d put his number in my phone weeks ago, but I definitely hadn’t done the same.

  Class roster.

  My lips curved. Why was I not surprised?

  Is that really appropriate?

  My screen lit up again. I think appropriate went out the window a long time ago. You in?

  And then my phone lit up again and my mouth went dry.

  This is me getting off the fence.

  Oh my god.

  I wasn’t sure if we were talking about riding together or being inappropriate together, but either way at the words, This is me getting off the fence, my answer was the same.

  Yes.

  Times one million. Plus one.

  Where are you? he texted me.

  Library.

  I sent him the location of my study carrel, the small corner of the law library that had become my private haven.

  My phone lit up again.

  Be there in a few.

  We were supposed to be at the middle school in two hours and I was still catching up on outlines for my con law final. The preferred method of studying for finals was to create mammoth outlines based on everything we’d learned in the course. The idea was that creating the outlines themselves would be an effective study aid, in addition to the time spent studying them.

  At this point, I was seventy pages into what would likely be nearly a one-hundred-page outline, and I had no clue how I was even going to finish it, much less find time to study. Not to mention my three other exams. Luckily, legal research and writing had been a series of assignments that we’d turned in during the year. I couldn’t imagine adding another three-hour exam to my plate.

  I pulled my hair back in a tie I found at the bottom of my bag, belatedly wishing I’d worn something other than my ratty Hannover Law T-shirt and jeans. And then the moment passed. I probably would have cared more a few months ago, but this was the height of law school mania, and there were only so many fucks I could give.

  A few minutes later, Gray tapped on the door to my carrel. I let him in, not sure if I was more glad to see him or the two cups of coffee he held.

  My heart moved a little closer on the falling-in-love meter as the smell of pumpkin spice hit me.

  Gray peered around me, his eyes wide, and then he looked back and grinned at me. “Now this is a familiar sight.”

  It wasn’t pretty. The desk in my carrel was covered in different colored highlighters, my con law book, the stupid supplement that I’d decided I needed another supplement just to understand, my laptop, and a mess of papers. I was normally a neat person, but I’d descended into exam chaos. Thank god I’d thrown away the box from the pizza I’d ordered earlier. This place was a step away from a sty.

  I shot him a plea
ding look. “Kill me. Just kill me now. At this point, I want to be put out of my misery.”

  He chuckled, his eyes going soft, his voice a husky purr. “Come here.”

  He took my coffee out of my hands, setting both cups on the only available space on my desk.

  Before I realized what he intended, he’d wrapped his arms around me, tucking me against his body. I stiffened for a moment, surprised by the contact, trying to remember if I’d forgotten to put on deodorant this morning.

  Shit.

  “Relax,” Gray whispered, his hand stroking my hair.

  I felt disgusting after a day spent hibernating in the library like a hermit. Of course, he looked gorgeous in a green sweater and dark jeans, smelling faintly of cedar and spice.

  He held me against him, his body propping me up in the face of the exhaustion seeping through my bones. He kissed the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. I relaxed. He didn’t talk, didn’t do anything but let me lean on him.

  His heart beat against my cheek, the steady thump lulling me into a deeper sense of calm. My lips brushed against his shirt, fighting the urge to press against the beat there.

  I lost.

  His chest jerked as I put my mouth to it, his cotton sweater between my lips and his heart. He shuddered. I waited for him to move away, wondering if I’d pushed things too far, too fast. His arm came around me, holding me tighter, crushing me against his body.

  Minutes passed while we stood like that, and then we both seemed to pull back at the same time, and his hand threaded through my hair, massaging my scalp, and his head bent, his mouth meeting me halfway, his lips pressing against mine softly, his mouth coaxing me to open.

  It was a completely different kiss from all the ones we’d shared before. It was soft, slow, lazy. It was sweet. He kissed me like he knew I didn’t have it in me for passion, that I needed his easy caress to soothe my frazzled parts.

  It was the best kind of kiss—the one I needed—and my heart tumbled even further in love.

  Gray

  She looked like she could barely stand. I remembered those days, the feeling that you’d pushed your ability to exist on limited sleep and junk food to the brink. The feeling that your mind couldn’t possibly expand to accommodate one more piece of information.