Player

by Natalie Rios

  Waiting for her response is excruciating. Her expression is hard, unreadable. After the longest pause of my life, she says, "But you hate Drake."

  "Yeah, but you love Drake and I love spending time with you. You're different from those other girls,” I insist. “You're the only one I enjoy talking to. The only one I think about all the time. And..." I exhale, bracing myself. Just be straightforward and honest. "I want to be with you."

  Her dark eyes probe mine, still looking doubtful. "Define be with."

  "You and me, together. Officially dating with labels and everything."

  "I find that hard to believe. You said yourself you don’t date."

  "No, I said dating is boring."

  "And, what, you suddenly don’t find it boring anymore?"

  “Not with you. Being with you is never boring."

  She nibbles on her lower lip, still hesitant. "If we're still being honest, I'm not sure you know how to be in a relationship. Or how to be a good boyfriend. After a week or two, you’ll get bored and move on to the next girl, like you always do. And then I’ll be the one left looking like a fool.”

  Ouch. Well, I did ask for honesty.

  "I will not be bored. You’re the least boring person I’ve ever met. I like you. A lot. And the more time we spend together, the more I get to know you, the more I like you. I’ve never met anyone like you and…” Frustrated, I rake a hand through my hair. “Look, I know I'm not a good bet. I don’t know anything about relationships. I've never had a girlfriend, never been on a date, and I'm probably going to fuck this up six ways from Sunday, but I want to try. For the first time in my life, I want to try. You gotta try, because that’s what character is. It’s in the trying.”

  Her lips twitch. “Did you just quote Friday Night Lights in your attempt to convince me to go out with you?”

  “I sure did. Is it working?”

  She bites her lip. “Maybe.”

  Maybe. I can work with that. “All I'm asking for is one date. One date and you can decide what happens next. Give me a chance to prove myself. Please."

  Tilting her head back, she studies me for a moment. "Okay."

  "Okay?" Holy shit, she said yes. Now’s not the time to celebrate though. I don’t know what I said to convince her and I’m not about to give her time to change her mind. I snake my hand out, intending to bring her mouth to mine for a kiss, but she slaps my hand away.

  "Slow your roll, Romeo. This relationship isn't going to be based on sex. So we're going to do this the old fashioned way. No touching until you've earned it. No kissing and definitely no sex."

  "Ah, okay." Expelling a shaky breath of air, I swallow back my disappointment. "For how long?" I can't say I'm thrilled about her condition, but I get it. Allie wants this to be more than just sex. And I actually agree with her. Relationships should never be based on sex.

  She shrugs. "Depends how it goes. Could be one date, could be ten. Could be never. Like I said, you have to earn it. Agreed?"

  I take in her smug expression, arms crossed and lips curved into a smirk. She doesn’t think I can do it. This is some sort of test, one she’s certain I’ll fail.

  "Do you know what I think, Allie Cat?" I lean in close, so close my nose is nuzzling her ear, so close I can feel her trembling against me. "I think you've made a gross miscalculation. You think you're so smart, issuing a challenge to an athlete. But I've got news for you: the idea of taking you on date after date in an attempt to prove I'm worthy of your time doesn't sound daunting. In fact, it sounds delightful. I hate easy wins almost as much as I hate losing. So brace yourself, Allie Cat. Challenge accepted."

  Me: Are you watching the game today?

  Allie: Can’t, have hw.

  Me: On a Saturday…Can’t you at least do something fun for a change?

  Allie: I could, but why start now?

  Me: Don’t sass me, woman. Not when I’m about to walk into a stadium filled with thousands of people.

  Allie: Afraid you might murder someone else in my place?

  Me: Afraid my boner might scare the children.

  Allie: You get off on me sassing you?

  Me: True story.

  Allie: Too bad it’s just you and your hand until date number 50.

  Allie: IF you make it past date #1 that is ;-)

  Me: Keep it up. You’ll pay for that later.

  “You’re late,” she frowns, swinging the door shut behind her. I try not to stare, but holy fuck. Her ass looks even better in jeans.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Jogging ahead, I make sure to reach the passenger door first so I can hold it open for her. “The bus got stuck in traffic and then I had to run home and shower.”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot the game was out of state. How did it go?”

  “We won.” Closing the door, I round the hood. Allie’s taken off her jacket, revealing a white t-shirt with a picture of Drake on it. “Are you serious?”

  “Get used to it. I’m going to see Champagne Papi in living color for the first time. There will be screaming, singing, and awkward dancing,” she warns.

  “Are you a bad dancer?”

  “No, but have you ever seen Drake’s music videos? Awkward dancing is a staple.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. You’re a real stickler for time, you know that?”

  She shrugs. “Most people consider punctuality to be a positive attribute.”

  I think back to all the times she got on my case for being late to debate practice in prep school. Even when I was only a minute late, she would comment on it. “Is that all it is? You like being on time?”

  She blows out a breath. “No. My cousin Rafael, Camilla’s twin brother, has Asperger’s. He’s super reliant on routines and any sort of deviation, even minor lateness, is a huge trigger for him. The twins and their mom live with us so minding the clock is like second nature to me.” A worried look comes over her face. “Do I come across as bitchy?”

  “No,” I quickly reassure her. “Just something I noticed about you. Thank you for telling me.” I’m really glad she felt comfortable enough to share. And I’m going to take extra care to be on time from now on. “So…why med school?”

  “Why not?” she quips. “Great segue, by the way.”

  “Remember what I said about sassing me. So unless you want to watch me jerk off...”

  “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

  I whip my head over and study her sheepish expression. Huh. Allie Perez likes to watch. I file that away for future use. “I’m saying, you’re wicked smart. You could be anything. So why med school?”

  “Wicked smaht, huh? Are you sure there isn’t a little bit of Red Sox fan in you?”

  “I do not have a Boston accent,” I scoff. “See, Perez, the way this dating thing works is we go out and talk, ask each other a bunch of questions so we can get to know each other better. I want to know everything about you.”

  “Everything? That’s a little creepy for a first date, don’t you think? Kidding, kidding,” she relents after I shoot her a look. “It’s hard for me to watch my cousin Rafael struggle. I want to understand him better. How does he perceive the world? What does he struggle with and why? I want to understand so I can help him and others like him. I want to provide other families with the same level of support and understanding Rafael’s caregivers gave us. My way of paying it forward, I guess.”

  Ah, fuck. She’s got a big heart. Beautiful, smart, and caring.

  I think I love her.

  Fuck. It just figures I would fall for a girl I can barely convince to go out with me.

  Still, I find myself smiling, confident I can turn this around.

  “I feel like an asshole,” I say. “I just want to play football because I love it.”

  “That’s important too. You should love what you do. Plus, selfishly, I enjoy the results.”

  “The results?”

  “Your well-muscled body.”

  I blow a mock kiss at my reflection in the rearview mirror. “I am
one hot package, aren’t I? If I die, my body should be taxidermied and displayed in the Smithsonian in an exhibit titled The Perfect Male Specimen.”

  “Is this what it’s going to be like? Dating you?” But there’s no heat in her words and when I turn my head, I find her smiling.

  I lift up my phone. “Here. I’m going to text you my father’s number.”

  “What for?”

  “For when my ears start bleeding later. You’re going to need my health insurance information.”

  “Don’t be queen of drama. I solemnly swear we will have a good time tonight.”

  “Mischief managed.”

  She chokes on a laugh. “Is that a Harry Potter reference?”

  “Depends. Does it turn you on?”

  “Do you think about sex all the time or just 99.9% of the time?”

  “I would say the break down is 35% football, 30% you, 30% having sex with you, and 5% everything else.”

  I can practically hear her eyes rolling. “Wait, 30 plus 30 equals 60 which is greater than 35.”

  “Congratulations, Perez. You just passed third grade math.”

  She pokes me in the shoulder. “Ass. I just mean you placed me above football. You really do like me.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Her hand reaches out and clasps my free one, giving it a squeeze. “I like you too.”

  Oh, man. An unexpected wave of…something hits me. It’s warm and amazing and I just want to pull her into my lap and crush my lips against hers.

  I clear my throat. “Do me favor? Remind me of this conversation when we’re in the ER later.”

  But you know what? I do have fun. Not because of the concert. Hell no. The music is garbage and the crowd is full of rowdy college girls and teenagers, some of who are weeping for no discernable reason.

  But I love dancing with Allie.

  Yes, I manage to coax her into dancing with me. Wrap my arms around her middle and press her against me so her back connects with my front. Despite the shitty music, our hips move with great rhythm, my nose and lips nuzzling the side of her face and neck the entire time.

  By the end of the night, I have a serious case of blue balls. And maybe I'm imagining it, but when I walk her to her door, I swear I catch her intently staring at my mouth. Like she’s dying for me to kiss her again. But this is a marathon, not a sprint. I'm not about to fuck shit up by pushing too hard, too fast.

  I know she doesn’t believe I’m in this for more than just sex. I have more to prove to her. And right now, securing our next date is more important than getting my rocks off. So at the end of the night, instead of pushing her up against her front door and capturing her lips with mine, I place a chaste kiss at the top of her head.

  "Will you go out with me again?" I ask.

  There's a pause and for a second I'm nervous. Panicked the super sweet evening had been one-sided. A figment of my overactive and sexually frustrated imagination.

  But then she shoots me an impish smile, answering with just one word.

  "Yes."

  “You’re early! For once. Did you finally learn how to tell time on a big person clock?” Opening the door, she stands there, cocking her head in question.

  Fucking hell.

  No make-up, no shoes. Wearing a baggy Carlton sweatshirt over a pair of denim cutoffs that show off those mile long legs. Hair wild, loose tendrils falling into her face. She looks lazy and fresh and comfortable and I can’t help it.

  Backing her against the doorframe, I pin her in place. Her mouth gapes into a surprised ‘O’ and my mouth is on hers, my tongue seizing the opportunity presented by her open mouth to thrust inside. She tastes like sugar and oranges and sweet baby Jesus, I missed her. It’s only been two days since I last saw her and we talked on the phone both of those nights, yet I still missed her.

  But this isn’t a sweet kiss, it’s a hungry one. Wet, sloppy, and not entirely pretty, but full of need and longing. One born out of desire and desperation. I’m such a fucking idiot for promising not to touch her when all I want to do is take her. Claim her. Possess her.

  The initial shock wears off and her arms come up to wrap around my neck. Sighing, she kisses me back, her lips feeling warm and right against mine. Her entire body presses into mine, her hips thrusting so her center rubs against my throbbing cock. Sexy little moans rumble at the back of her throat and...fuck. This is quickly getting out of hand.

  Pulling back, I move my hands so they frame her face. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  “Save the lines,” Allie snorts. Her eyes are still hazy from the kiss, her cheeks stained pink. “I’m not even dressed yet.”

  “What you’re wearing is perfect for what I have planned.”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “Really? What kind of date would necessitate a combination of jean cutoffs and no bra?”

  “You’re not wearing a bra?” I croak. How the hell had I not noticed that? Maybe I should have copped a feel while I had her up against the door. “Definitely perfect. No need to change.”

  Crossing her arms, she smirks at me. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Then I need to change. I’m not risking my nipples waving hello to everyone.”

  “Your perky tits are always welcome.”

  “Theodore.”

  “Alma. You’re being silly. If I couldn’t tell you weren’t wearing a bra when I had you plastered against me, no way will people standing a respectable three feet away from you.”

  “You couldn’t tell I was wearing a bra because your blood flow had re-routed to your dick.” She closes the door behind us and gestures towards the couch. “The bra thing isn’t even the main issue. Shorts aren’t exactly appropriate for November in Massachusetts. Wait here.”

  “Nuh-uh. If you’re changing, I want to watch.”

  Allie rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to watch me change.”

  “Why not? Your rule was against touching, not watching.”

  She wags her index finger at me. “A rule which you broke. So don’t think you’re going to be rewarded by watching me change.”

  I shrug off her rebuke. We both know she didn’t mind the kiss. “It’s common practice to end a first date with a kiss. And seeing as I was a perfect gentleman on our amazing first date, I was just taking what I was owed.”

  “I don’t even know how to reply to such ridiculousness so I’m just going to go change instead.”

  I follow after her. “Let me help you-”

  “No.” Allie whirls around and jabs a finger in my chest. “Clearly you can’t be trusted to abide by the rules.”

  “It’s cute how you think you’re in charge here.” And just as I suspected, she bristles at my comment. God, I love riling her up. Her lips flatten with annoyance and I want to kiss her. Honestly, I always want to kiss her, but especially when she's annoyed. Or angry. Angry Allie is so sexy, with her cheeks all rosy and her hands on her hips as she glares up at me.

  “I am in charge. I made the rules and you agreed to my conditions, remember?”

  I cock my head to one side, flashing her a sexy grin I know drives women crazy. “You want to be the boss of me, Allie Cat?” I ask softly.

  But Allie isn’t like other women. Rather than looking turned on or even flirty, she just looks amused. Fucking amused.

  I swear, I’m starting to feel like Bobo the Clown with how entertaining she’s been finding me lately.

  “Fine, fine,” I relent. “But seriously, all you need is a pair of leggings. Comfort definitely trumps style for this date.”

  To my surprise (and pleasure), Allie actually listens to me. She returns clad in my favorite black leggings. I watch her lock the front door before we both climb into my Range Rover.

  “So the vegan thing,” I say, starting the car and merging onto traffic. “Is it because you love animals?”

  “Sort of. It’s why I became a vegetarian. But then a few years ago I went full vegan because I’
m lactose intolerant and allergic to eggs. Being vegan makes it easier to avoid those types of products. Plus, it’s a lot easier to tell people I’m vegan than to go into all of my allergies. Here’s a tip: if you plan on taking me to a restaurant, I need to check the menu to make sure there’s something I can eat.”

  Shit. I never considered an allergy. “Are you allergic to dogs?”

  She turns her head and gives me a look. “No. Why?”

  Her favorite question. “Just trying to get to know you, Allie Cat. Do you like dogs?”

  “Well, I’m here with you aren’t I?”

  “Smartass. But I’m reformed now, right? A reformed rake.”

  “Reformed rake!” Allie giggles. “Been reading regency romances, huh?”

  “No, but I did watch a few episodes of Outlander a while ago-”

  Allie gasps. “Without me?!”

  I slide her a look. “You were avoiding me at the time. That’s what happens when you ignore me. Left to my own devices, it’s either football or TV.”

  “Well, I guess if you’re taking lessons on how to be a gentleman, Jamie Fraser is a good place to start. Wait.” I glance over and find her face plastered against the passenger window. “Where are we going?”

  “To the park,” I say, knowing full well my vague answer will buy me all of five seconds. Ten, if I’m lucky.

  “The sign on the on-ramp said Boston.”

  “Yeah. We’re going to a park…in Boston.”

  “The parks on campus not good enough for you or something?”

  “We have to stop by my parent’s place first to pick something up.”

  “Excuse me, what? I know you did not just say we’re going to the Governor’s Mansion. Not when you told me it was okay to leave the house dressed like this! I’m wearing a ratty sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big and leggings. Leggings! Leggings are not pants, Theodore. Oh my God, turn around!”