by Lainey Davis
I exhale and shake my head. "It's too humiliating."
"What? More humiliating than spilling nacho cheese all over yourself when you could have been banging the quarterback?"
I throw the empty water bottle at his chest and pull the covers over my head. He persists. "Hey, Serena, I am fresh from surgery and slept on a sofa a foot shorter than me. You owe me your tale of woe."
"Gah! It's so bad." I take a deep breath and speak quickly. "I made a pass at Professor Jacobs and he didn't even acknowledge it basically, but he pretty much asked me to leave his office."
Talon whistles. I pull the covers down so my face peeks out and he flops back on the bed next to me. "That was pretty ballsy of you. So you like older dudes, hey?" He lies on his side, his head propped on his hand, his eyes teasing.
"Not normally. It's just…he's like a celebrity in the stats world. I've been obsessed with him for years and now he's here this semester teaching. God! I ruined everything." I feel tears start welling as I talk about what happened. "How can I even go back to class now?" As soon as I say it, I start crying, which makes me feel even more embarrassed, if such a thing is possible. "God, what am I even doing? I shouldn't be telling you all of this."
He puts a hand on my arm. "Hey, it's ok, you know? You're my research partner, right? I've got your back."
I look over at him, blinking away tears, trying to slow my breathing. My god, he's good looking, I think. "How am I supposed to just go back to class after I made a pass at the professor?"
He keeps his hand on my arm and I feel my pulse quicken. I become increasingly aware that I'm lying half dressed in Talon Kelly's bed with Talon Kelly, the length of his body mere inches from my own. "Look, Serena, I know this might come as a shock to you, but I make passes at girls all the time. And sometimes they even turn me down. And you know what? Fuck that. You can't let it ruin your day."
I laugh a little and catch myself, staring into his intense blue gaze. My arm is stiff beneath his fingers, which wrap around my bones. His hands are so large and up close I can see the taut muscles of his arms. "Who turns you down, Talon?"
Chapter Five
His fingers begin to stroke my skin lightly. "You did, the other day." He doesn't let me break his gaze. I shudder as he drops his hand to my body beneath the duvet. He walks his fingers up my chest and places his hand on my collarbone. I'm sure he can feel my heart pounding through the material of his t-shirt and my breath catches as his thumb rubs along the notch at the top of my sternum. "Anyone would have to be crazy to turn down an offer from you, Serena."
I open my mouth to say something, but he leans in and kisses me. His lips are soft and thick, pressing into mine hungrily. He grazes my bottom lip with his teeth and nudges my lips apart with his tongue. A moan escapes my throat as he adjusts his weight until he's lying against me. I can feel every firm inch of his body through the duvet, and I hesitantly move my hands onto his rounded shoulders.
Talon's hand on my chest begins to slide downward until he's cupping my breast through the shirt, his palm pressing against my stiff nipple, fingers gently massaging the soft weight of my tender skin. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to feel his lips around the taut peaks, to feel his thumb rubbing the sensitive tip until I melt beneath his touch. "Talon," I whisper, and as if he's read my mind, he dips his curly head, sliding soft kisses along my jaw and chin, sliding down until he flicks my nipple through the fabric.
The material is wet and hot from his mouth as he works first one, then the other breast while his hands wander along my body. I wind my fingers into his hair as he sucks my breast into his mouth. I yelp as his teeth graze my nipple and he laughs, the deep rumble of his voice shaking against my chest. When I imagined the Claw with one of his conquests, I never stopped to think about how good a lover he must have become with so much practice. Conquest or not, I felt very, very aroused by what he was doing to my nipples.
I run my hand along his chest and stroke the firm expanse of his body as he returns to my mouth, our tongues clashing hungrily. I feel the rock-hard length of Talon's cock against my hip and I realize things are about to get real. When he moves to kiss my ear, I say, "Talon, I need to tell you something--Ooooh, shit, that feels good."
He has a hand back on my breast as he kisses me and I swear he's found a string connecting my nipple to my core, because my whole body is vibrating from his attentions.
Suddenly, there's a pounding knock at the door and a deep voice shouts, "Yo, Claw, if you want a ride to PT I'm leaving in five."
Talon groans and rolls onto his back. My eyes are wide as I pull the covers up again. He shouts, "Yep, thanks, man. I'll be right out."
I rustle along the covers for the bag of clothes Talon had brought me and try to slip my jeans on under the blankets. "I'm sorry," I start to say.
"Hey," he puts a hand on my shoulder. "We'll continue this later. I want to hear what you were going to tell me, and I definitely want to hear you moan like that again."
Before I can say a word, he hoists himself up from the bed, gathers his crutches, and starts making his way out of the room.
Chapter Six
After I pull on my clothes, I walk into the living room to find Allissa looking bedraggled. She grins at me and puts an arm around my shoulder. As we walk home, she tells me all about sleeping with CJ Smith.
"I mean, he's a total man-whore. Obviously I'm not going to see him, but it was fantastic sex." She buys me a coffee and tells me the highlights before grabbing my arm. "Shit, Serena. I keep forgetting you've still got your v-card…unless maybe you don't anymore?"
She raises an eyebrow but I just smile into my coffee. "Still carrying the card, I'm afraid." I started out college so busy studying that I just never had time to date anyone. Now, as a junior, I still study hard, but the idea of romance seems less important somehow. I mostly want to get it out of the way.
"So do you think you'll give it up to Talon? Did you guys do anything? You seemed super drunk last night."
I briefly fill her in on the story, but thinking of Talon's mouth skillfully lavishing my nipples causes me to flush again, so I change the subject back to how I should approach my stats class with Matt next week.
By Tuesday morning, I'm ready to walk into class and pretend like nothing happened. I'm wearing my usual uniform of dark jeans, SCU t-shirt, and SCU-green Saucony's. I've got my hair thrown into what I hope is my least-attractive sloppy bun, and I sit in my usual seat up front, totally avoiding eye contact but prepared to raise my hand and join in the discussion.
Just before the bell rings, as is becoming a habit, Talon disrupts the class by clattering in the door. Today, for some frustrating reason, he doesn't take the seat behind me. Instead, he nudges my leg with his crutch and says, "Hey, move in one."
I furrow my brow, not quite believing he really expects me to move out of my seat when there are a half dozen empty chairs to choose from, but he smiles and keeps poking my leg with his crutch. I roll my eyes and slide over. When he sits down he seems to spill from the chair until he takes all of my space as well. "What the hell, Talon?"
He leans in, much closer than I'd like, and whispers, "I want to see if I can make you moan again in class." Talon must see the furious look on my face, because he leans back toward his own chair, smiling, and says, "Easy, there. I can wait until later."
I can barely pay attention to the discussion. My thoughts zoom between embarrassment, admiration for Matt Jacobs, and the memory of Talon's expert tongue. I had been about to tell him I was a virgin when we were fooling around in his bed. The more I think about it, though, the less I want him to know. He's not wrong about making me moan. I can tell that sleeping with him will be amazing, but I also know Talon is a ladies man. Whatever this is, it will not be a relationship, and he doesn't seem like he'd be interested in being anyone's first time.
"Serena? Ms. Sanders?"
I jolt back to the present moment. Matt Jacobs is calling on me. Shit. "I'm sorry, can you repeat the que
stion?" From the corner of my eye, I can see Talon chuckling. Matt says, "I was asking your thoughts about data presentation with sports statistics."
I feel relief flood over me. I can ad lib about sports statistics for hours. "Oh, right. Well for something like running or golf, I think a dot plot works really well, but for more complex sports statistics, you're really looking at so many charts…most teams and coaches rely on discussion and analysis for developing their strategy. But when Coach Burns here at SCU opts for the short pass and bubble screen in short yardage situations, for instance, he is looking at rushing and passing trends over time…"
I can feel the class staring at me with open mouths. Matt meets my eye and there's no trace of awkwardness. He smiles and nods. "Right on--"
Talon snaps his fingers and blurts, "Shit! That's where I know you from! You're the stat girl."
I do not turn to look at him, but Matt raises his eyebrows at Talon's interruption. Talon continues, "She, Serena, she's in the stat booth for the SCU football team. She's the only girl up there."
Matt smiles and looks back at me. "Is that right?"
I start to wish I could fall into a hole in the floor, but I answer, "Well, it was just an internship. I actually prefer biostatistics, so I won't be going back next year…"
Matt nods and takes over the sports statistics discussion again. The rest of the class goes by in a blur and at the end, I quickly gather my things. My intention is to leave as quickly as possible and avoid talking to either Talon or Matt, but of course Talon's massive body is blocking my exit route. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asks me as he lumbers out of his seat.
"What, you mean when I was spilling nacho cheese on myself at your apartment?"
"No, I mean…later. Is that what you were going to tell me?"
I shrug. "Talon, I know this might surprise you, but keeping stats for the football team was just an internship for me. It's not, like, an important part of my life." He's finally on his feet and I make a move to push past him, but he puts a hand on my shoulder again.
I feel that same heat, that electric charge that spreads through my body like water in the desert. He says, "We still need to pick a time to meet up. For our research project."
Of course, his schedule is impossible even in the off-season, but I agree to meet him around 4 in the football building, between his physical therapy and his weight training sessions. He finally lets me walk past, and I head to my next class, relieved to be away from the elective I thought would be my favorite college experience.
Chapter Seven
I'm no stranger to the football building. I've spent a lot of time in here talking about Otter strategy based on game stats. Not that anyone ever asked my input on strategy. Sometimes I was allowed to talk about trends during the meetings, but it was mostly the good ole' boys talking about the gridiron.
I have not, however, been into the player areas. When I come in, I see Darla at the reception desk and she greets me warmly. "Didn't think we'd see you back here, Serena!"
"I'm here for something different this time," I tell her. "I'm supposed to meet Talon Kelly to work on a class project. Can you tell me which way the physical therapy room is?"
Darla gives me a look that suggests she knows things are never just book business with Talon. I flush, but sputter, "He's my research partner for a statistics elective." She laughs and points down the hall.
As I walk closer to the PT room, I hear someone groaning. No. It's more like a roar. I stop a few feet from the door, because I can see that it's Talon. He is shirtless, wearing just a pair of Otter-green mesh shorts. He has a smaller knee brace on than the one he wears to class, and the trainer is urging him through a series of squats. His body is impeccable. His ab muscles have ab muscles, it seems like, and I can't draw my eyes away from his chest.
The shorts sit low on his hips, right below the V of his lower abs. As I move my eyes upwards, I see the bulging muscles of his arms…and then he roars again. The trainer has him moving in between a series of orange cones now, and Talon's face is so fierce, so determined. I can't tell if he's in pain or just working hard to finish the series of exercises.
I was in the booth when he blew his ACL last semester. The Otters were going for 2 after a late touchdown, and Talon got slammed by the other team's cornerback when he tried to run the ball. I had to bite my tongue about the whole thing. I mean, of course you never know for sure what's going to happen in a game, but I'd read the stats on that cornerback from Kentucky. I sure wouldn't have pushed the odds and run the ball against him.
Now, Talon is surrounded by an entire crew of people. He's got teammates in there cheering for him. He's got an entourage of physical therapists and assistant coaches shouting, "Come on, Claw! Dig in!" As I watch them I realize more than ever that I don't belong here. I walk back down the hall to sit in some armchairs while I wait for Talon to come out.
A few minutes later, I hear the parade of Talon and his crew. He starts shaking hands and they dissipate, but he catches my eye and limps over. "Hey, look! No more crutches!"
I want to point out that he also has no books, no pen, no paper, but I settle for, "No shirt, either, I see."
He sinks into the armchair next to me and leans back, hands behind his head. "You like what you see?" He moves his muscles so his pecs dance up and down, like some sleazy lifeguard from Baywatch or something.
"Gross, Talon. Come on."
"All right, all right. I mean, I have to go lift right from here, so if I do put a shirt on, that's just another shirt the maintenance people have to wash. Do you really want me making more work for the maintenance crew? Hm?"
I roll my eyes at him. "How about, 'Serena, I really appreciate you working with my super tight schedule and putting up with my funk so we can start our project.'" I cross my arms across my chest and stare at him.
His face shifts. "You're right. It's really cool of you to meet me here. I'm sorry I'm half naked…ok?"
I nod. I pull out my copy of the assignment and he shrugs, obviously not having his at hand. I skim and say, "So we basically have to pick an area of statistics to discuss. Talk about some work being done in that field, current research, job descriptions, that sort of thing."
He says, "Easy. Sports statistics. Right?"
I shake my head. "No way. I'm going into biostatistics, and that's Professor Jacobs's field of interest. I told you. I just did football stats because--"
"You actually never said why you were doing it, but I know you must kick ass at it because there aren't other undergrads up there. I asked."
This surprises me enough that I drop the assignment sheet. "You asked about my internship?"
"I did. Once I remembered who you were today. I asked about you last fall, too, but only because I wanted to hit on you." He grins, but continues. "But here's the weird thing, Serena. None of the other guys claim to have slept with you, and I know you've been up there for 3 seasons. How do you avoid the advances of 80-plus college football players for 3 years?"
I start to chew on the inside of my cheek, uncertain about this conversation. "I try to keep to myself," I say. "I just mostly avoid the players."
He waves this suggestion away, but says, "Well, then I remembered you told me you made a pass at our professor, so I just assumed you must be into someone on the staff."
My face is crimson now and I feel hot. "What? You think I'm sleeping with the STAFF?"
"I'm just trying to figure you out, sweetheart. This might surprise you, but I usually don't have to work this hard to get into a girl's pants."
Before I can stop to think, I'm blurting, "You're not even working hard, and, I mean, you've already had me in your bed…without pants…and your roommate interrupted."
I look over my shoulder, but thankfully nobody is around. Talon laughs. "I probably will never forgive him for that. Anyway, don't you think the easiest solution is if we present about sports statistics?"
"This might surprise you, Talon, but I don't just do things bec
ause they are easy. We're going to do biostatistics."
He runs his hands through his sweaty curls. "What's your deal, Serena?"
"Excuse me?"
He looks at me, his blue eyes softer now. "What happened to you? I can tell something did."
"Oh." I don't usually tell people about my background. Apart from Alissa, I don't think many people at SCU know my story, but then nobody has ever asked me point blank to talk about it before. "You don’t really want to know all that."
He puts a hand on my leg and leans close. "I absolutely want to know, and not just because I'm hitting on you. I feel like I have to know your deal or it's going to drive me crazy."
I exhale slowly. "Ok, so my mom died when I was a baby, and I was raised by my dad."
"Shit, Serena. I'm so sorry."
"It gets worse, trust me."
Chapter Eight
Talon meets my eyes and I'm really moved by the fact that he actually seems to care. I half expect his entourage to pop up to respond to each part of the story, with groans and back slaps. I continue, stuttering just a bit with emotion. "So my dad was head football coach at the private school near where we lived. Football was all there was at my house, so even though I wanted nothing to do with it, I had no choice. Plus, to be enrolled at that school, students had to be involved in sports in some way. I kept stats."
"That's a pretty cool rule. I like that," Talon says. I make an annoyed face and he says, "Sorry. Stats. Your dad."
"When I was 16, my dad got really sick, really quickly. He had somehow gotten meningitis, and then wound up contracting pneumonia in the hospital." I close my eyes. It is still painful for me to talk about what happened in my late teens. A tear leaks out and slowly rolls down one cheek as I say, eyes still closed, "He died that fall."
I open my eyes and Talon is staring at me, his mouth slightly open. He moves one hand to my leg, gently rubbing my knee, and says, "God, Serena, that's really awful."