“We?” I was sure I probably wasn't mentioned.
“Yes, we.” With a click of her tongue, she plops on my bed, bouncing me a little. “They said you were sweet. They all wondered where you went last night. Forget about what Kyle said, everyone knows he's a jerk. He’s only around because he's their teammate. The players are out of town anyways, but the girls invited us over tomorrow.”
Tatum, Layla, and Deena seemed nice, but the idea of a sorority, of putting myself out there like that, made all my insecurities raise to the surface. But I'm supposed to try new things. That's my goal, right? “Okay.”
“All right.” She claps her hands together and rubs them like she's starting a fire. “Not for nothing, but I was starting to worry. You've been slacking on our mission this semester. Remember, we're supposed to be living it up, trying new things, breaking out, making the best memories we can.”
“If you say so.” I give her a teasing grin. “How are your memories from last night?”
“The best. And that's all I'm going to say about that.” She presses her lips together like she means it, and then bursts, “Except, lets just say, everything about him is proportional. And he's got great stamina.”
I'm turning red, I know it, but I can't help but hang on whatever information she's giving. And my embarrassment only eggs her on.
“He could lift me, and bend me, and his fingers—” her words brake into giggles as I cover my red hot face with my hands. “I'm sorry, I forgot I was talking to virgin ears. But I'll say this one last thing,” she sighs, and I can't tell if it's exaggerated or completely genuine, “It was perfect. He was unbearably sweet, too. Did you see, he let me where his jersey home?”
She’s already showered and changed, but I know the jersey is hanging up in her closet, and a warm happiness fills my heart for my friend.
“That has to be a good sign. That has to mean something,” I encourage.
“Maybe.” Her smile tightens and she shakes her head. “But maybe not.” She closes her eyes, and when they pop open she changes tracks and stands up. “What are we going to do tonight? Let's go get that tattoo we were supposed to get last weekend. I need a tattoo to celebrate.”
I take a breath and rise to my feet, feeding off her excitement. “Sounds good. A tattoo will definitely be something new.” I shake my vibrating limbs, pumping myself up. “Let’s do it.”
“But first, let's do a power hour to rally.” She opens the mini fridge that's within reach in the tiny, square space of our dorm, and then she swings back around with two beers, handing me one of the blue cans. “I've got a power hour mix on my phone—hold on.”
“Maybe just a power twenty.” I crack the can, needing the liquid courage.
“Sip.” Music starts in the background and Rose sits down on her bed. “Twenty minutes it is, as long as you finish the beer in that time. All right, next drink to new experiences and awesome roommates.” She lifts her beer and the song switches, signaling us to take another drink.
* * *
The light fabric of my sundress rubs against the healing tattoo on my stomach, a tiny star. It swishes with every step I take, an itchy burn is a constant reminder, but it isn't actually unpleasant. It gives me confidence. Reminds me that I can be anyone I want now. A new me, for a new place.
I need the extra confidence as I follow Layla into Sigma Delta's living room. It's not like the frat party the other night after the game. The room is full but not overflowing. It's at a level where you can't simply disappear in a crowd, and anxiety is already snaking into my beating heart.
“Brook, Rose, you made it.” Deena rises from her seat, a wine glass in hand, and she adjusts her tight skirt as she approaches us. She leans in and gives Rose a kiss on the cheek. It stuns me when she does the same to me, and her hand stays on my shoulder. “Glad you came out. Where'd you go last night?”
“Nowhere.” I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair, trying to shrug off my nerves. “Back to my dorm and did some homework.”
Layla's dark eyes meet mine with a sympathetic, but doubtful, look. “We know Kyle was being—well, Kyle. Don't let him get to you. He can be harsh, but he's like that with everyone. Really, he's not so bad when you get to know him.”
I freeze, wondering if they saw or if Kyle told them.
Deena barks out a laugh. “No. He stays an asshole, you just get use to it— Forget about them. Do you want a drink?”
“Yes.” Rose speaks up, and I nod in agreement.
I scan the large grey and pink living room as we walk through it, towards the kitchen. “Is Tatum here?”
“No, she had some dance audition in Orlando—I think she's spending the weekend at home after that,” Deena turns back to explain.
Layla nudges me and speaks in a soft voice. “Don't worry about Tatum. She may have a thing with Andrew, but she won’t hold it against you that you messed with him.”
“Wh—What?” I choke on my words.
“Shit.” Rose grabs my hand. “I'm sorry. I forgot I told them about what Kyle said and about Andrew pulling you away Wednesday night.”
My mouth opens, but no words form.
“Tatum and Andrew had left by that point, so she doesn't even know,” Deena lays out the facts with her hand on her hip and deep red curls bouncing. “But if she's fine with him banging Layla and half the female population, I'm sure she'll get over you kissing him.”
I cover my face with my hands, stomach turning sour.
Rose pumps my hand with hers. “It's not like it's your fault anyways. You didn't know he was in a relationship then.”
“Oh, they are not in a relationship,” Layla interjects. “They’re friends, or something. She shuts down about whatever they are, or whatever they were to each other. But they are both single. You did nothing wrong.”
“Here, take a drink.” Deena hands me a glass of white wine. “Forget about it. Let me introduce you two around.”
* * *
“I need the credit and service hours for my med school application,” Scott explains as he pulls out his phone. “I've been meaning to contact you since you dropped off the information in our class at the start of the year,” his clear blue eyes glance up at me, “but I lost the paper. Is it too late to sign up?”
“No, it's not too late. Here I can send you the information now.” I riffle through my purse and find my phone on the bottom. “I can air drop you the application. You can stop by tomorrow and start if you're free. It's at the south gym.” It’s a relief to talk about this. Small talk had been slowly wearing on me. Plus, we need more guys at the clinic. We need more people in general, since kids keep signing up with no change in volunteers.
“Scott, I see you've met Brook.” Deena sidles up to him, brushing the shoulder of his button up shirt. “Brook is thinking of pledging with us in the spring. Right, Brook?”
Scott looks from Deena to me with a wide grin. “Really? I'm a Sig.”
“That's our brother Frat.” She winks at me from behind him so he doesn't see. “Scott's a senior brother and you graduate in the spring, right? Pre-med?”
His smile slips as he narrows his eyes at her. “Yeah. I do.”
“You two should exchange numbers.” She glances directly at our phones in our hand.
I let off a nervous laugh and Deena only smiles like she's innocent. If she's trying to match us up, she's making it really awkward. “I was sending him information about the child development clinic I work with on Saturdays.”
He clears his throat and slides his hand over his blonde hair to the back of his neck. “I'll stop by tomorrow, Brook.” He lifts his beer to Deena. “See you around.” And then he walks away.
“Oh, girl. That's a good one. Pre-med and from our brother frat. I can't wait till you pledge.” She threads her long arm through mine, leading me back to the kitchen where Rose and Layla are.
I never agreed to pledge, they just assumed, but I didn't contradict them.
“Are the football playe
rs in a frat?” I convince myself I’m asking for Rose, because my sexy green eyed player isn’t supposed to be in my mind.
Deena smirks like she can read my thoughts. “No. They're their own brothers. Coach won’t let them pledge. But they're accepted at all frats, all sororities too.”
* * *
I’m still dragging from staying up too late and waking up too early on Monday morning as I haul a net of various balls up the steps of the south gym. It's not heavy, but it's large and awkward. I try to pull on the bag, but it stretches, even if I hold it over my shoulder it drags on the concrete.
I get it up the few stairs and am fighting to hold the door open and pull the bag through when someone reaches from behind me and lifts the bag away.
“Let me,” Andrew's voice is instantly recognizable. So is his scent and heat. I would of known it was him, even if he hadn't spoken, even if I hadn't turned around and looked directly into those forest green eyes.
But, oh Lord, I don't look at the eyes for long because he's shirtless and sweaty. His olive skin has a sheen as it stretches over his muscles, perfect muscles, with scattered tattoos on his shoulders and chest.
He grins at me, the bag tossed over his shoulder like it's nothing.
“That wasn't heavy. I wasn't struggling because I can't lift it. I can lift it. I'm not that weak. It's just balls with air. That's not heavy.” I look away, flustered and embarrassed, but the heat running through me is more than that. I'm turned on standing this close to him, having his eyes run over me, wishing it were his hands. I slap down the traitorous thoughts.
“Where are you going with these?” He quirks his brow, ignoring my rambling.
“To the storage closet in the gymnasium.” I point in that direction, heart kicking up as I follow behind him and take in the view of his back. Large wings span across his shoulders. Something is written in between them, but it's not clear with the bag over his back. I try to keep my eyes raised, away from his bare back and gym shorts. But even the damp curls on his neck are sexy and add heat to my blood.
“I have the key.” I step in front of him to unlock the storage room, and then I step out of the way so he can pass through.
“What are you doing with this stuff?” He asks as he sets the bag down in the closet.
“They’re donations for the clinic on Saturday.”
His eyes travel over me like he's not listening to a word I say.
“You got that tattoo?” His gaze stops on my stomach.
Only a thin slice of skin is showing, since my arm is stretched to the door handle of the closet, but he’s zeroed in on the barely seen ink between my top and skirt. I drop my arm and pull my shirt down, covering it. “Yeah.”
“Why?” he shakes his head. “You didn't want it.”
“Yeah, I did,” I scoff. “That's why I got it.”
He steps to me like he owns me and lifts the edge of my shirt to expose the top of the star. The ink is surrounded in red healing skin.
He's so close to me, his fingers grazing and tickling my skin. His presence clouds my thoughts and my reaction are too slow, like I'm moving through a fog. But I step back, making his hand fall away.
“Thanks for your help.” I close the closet door when he steps out.
He leans against the wall to the side of me, arms crossed, watching as I lock the storage room back up. His gaze makes it take longer, since my hands are shaking.
“Why didn't you come over last night with your purple haired friend?”
“Rose?” I step back to walk away, but I can't seem to get my body to turn, trapped in his presence. “I don't follow her around. You don't have to worry about entertaining me so she can hang out with TJ.”
His eyes narrow, but a slow smile stretches his lips. “Are you angry?”
“I-uh-I'm just saying.” I step back into the open space of the gym, but he matches my step, not giving me space to think. “You can leave me alone now. You don't have to worry about me blocking your friend.”
He laughs, and it vibrates through me, liquefying my muscles as I struggle to maintain my anger.
“I'm not worried about anything. Maybe I helped him out some by pulling you to the side, but maybe he was helping me out, too.”
“Right. Well, I've got to go.” I’m about to combust from nerves. He’s some sort of devil is all I can think, to have such power over my body. It wasn't fair how calm and cool he stayed.
“Where?”
“What?” I spin back around at his question.
“Where do you need to go?” He speaks each word slow and clear, taking steps to be right in front of me again. “What are you doing later?”
I shake my head and hold my breath, trying to remember what words are and how to speak them when all I want to do is touch the lines in his abs and trace the ink on his shoulders and chest. So I let him get closer, till one hand slips behind my neck and he lifts my head to meet his eyes.
“This isn't about your friend, Brook. She's not around right now. So answer me, because I want to see you later.”
5: Too Bad
The warmth of his hand gripping the back of my neck radiates through me, heat melting my strength. His green eyes are locked on me, and the determination in them churns my stomach. I don't stand a chance, because I want nothing more than to be trapped in his gaze all day.
“Where will you be later?” His lips barely move, his voice barely above a whisper, barely disturbing the moment.
I lick my dry lips to prepare an answer, and his eyes drop to my mouth, his fingers twitching on my neck. I affect him too, and that knowledge excites me, speeding up my heart as he licks his own lips and eases me a little closer to his shirtless chest.
“I don't know,” my voice is strained, unable to take in air.
“Sure you do.” His other hand comes up to grip the other side of my head, and I need that support when he smiles and closes the space between us. His warm, large, body skims mine as he stands over me.
“You're going to be at my place tonight.” It sounds like a fact.
“Your place…” I repeat, stupidly. A sinking weight pulling me out of my haze. “Why?” I cringe because I know the answer already, and that's not what I meant to ask. But I need time to compose myself, to pull away.
“Baby, I want to know you better.” His low voice sounds like sex, and his hand travels to the center of my back, sending a thrill down my spine as he pulls me closer.
I take a breath, unable to stop myself from breathing him in. He smells like strength and pure hot male. I've never smelled anything quite like it, but it's almost like the smell of a storm approaching— I know that's exactly what he is. And I need to get away.
“I can't,” I speak into his lips, before they make contact.
He pulls his head back some but doesn't release me. His eyes flick around my face, searching for something. “But you want to. You want this, just like I want this, so what's the problem?”
“Tatum—”
He drops me the moment her name leaves my lips. “Why should she matter to you?”
I shrug my shoulders and wrap my arms around myself, the cold air in the gym finally getting to me now that he's taken away his warmth. “You and her have something.”
“So what?” He crosses his arms over his chest with smug confidence. “It doesn't concern you, or anyone else. All you need to know is she's well aware we're not in a relationship. I'm not looking for a relationship, Brook.”
“I'm not looking for a hookup.” I try to use the same matter of fact tone he used.
“That's too bad.”
“For who?” I question him, unsure of his meaning and confused as to what I want the answer to be.
He drops his head and swipes his hand over his dark hair, but when he looks back up, it's clear he's laughing at me. He takes a few steps away, still facing me with a dark smile. His green eyes focus on mine, but I can't read the meaning in the tingle inducing gaze. “I'll see you later, Brook.”
H
e strolls out of the gym like our exchange had no affect. His easy movements stretch the lean muscles of his back, and I don't know how to look away. He left me with an aching body that craved everything my scattered thoughts warned me to resist.
* * *
I stare at the computer screen as my mother rambles on about her day, inserting an occasional “okay” and “huh” when she pauses. But I’m not really focused on the English paper I need to write either. My mind’s distracted by the one thing I’m trying to forget, Andrew.
“How about tomorrow, then?” Her voice takes on a new excitement. “Oh, I'll come around dinner time, we can go to a restaurant near campus. What's your favorite—”
“What? You're going to come here? That's too far.”
“Sweetie, it's only an hour and half drive. Don't worry about me. I want to see how you decorated that room in person. You can invite your roommate, and any other friend you want. I know you college kids need to eat.”
I cover the groan bubbling in my chest, that wouldn't be fair to her. “I'm not sure about tomorrow. I have a lot of homework. What about next week?”
The door flies open, and I roll my eyes to Rose, pointing to my phone. She knows exactly who I'm talking to.
“Hi, Ms. Shaw,” she calls loud enough for my mom to hear.
TJ follows behind her, his massive size dwarfs our room, and he doesn't seem to fit on Rose's bed when he crashes back on it. But he keeps silent, which I'm thankful for. I don't want to explain a boy in our room— she's not stupid, but I don't want to give her ammo in arguments about the dangers of college. I don't want to cause her any more stress, she's had enough to last her a lifetime from everything that happened with my sister, everything that I caused from not minding my own business.
“Tell her I said hi, sweetie, and tell her about our plans for dinner next week.” Her happy tone drops as she questions, “You're still going to come home this weekend at some point, right?”
“Yeah, Sunday. I'll talk to you more about dinner then. I've got to finish my paper, okay?”
Hustle Page 5