Looking to Score

by CoraLee June

  The two men bludgeoning the flaps started shouting.

  “Get outta here!” the man with large ears grumbled. He sounded seriously out of breath.

  “I’m not wasting the Viagra, John. You know they ration this shit out,” the other said to his friend.

  I threw my hands up to block the view. “I’m so sorry,” I shouted while walking backward.

  “Finally!” the man with large ears shouted.

  The back of my foot hit a dip in the carpet, and I started falling backward. Two strong hands wrapped around me, pulling me to a hard chest to break my fall. I opened my eyes and let out a breathless thank-you when I saw Oakley holding me up.

  He smiled as Brooke slammed the door to Cassandra’s room shut. “Well, Solver,” he grumbled, hovering his lips over my ears to whisper, “I think our first community service is going well, hmm?”

  10

  I was stress cleaning. Tomorrow, the article about our time at the nursing home was scheduled to be published, and I couldn’t sleep; instead, I was scrubbing the bathtub at eleven o’clock at night. I couldn’t get the image of Cassandra in gland-to-gland combat with the cast of Grumpy Old Men out of my head. Just thinking about it made me both cringe with embarrassment and want to bleach my eyes.

  I took it out on my bathtub instead. I’m pretty sure I scrubbed until the enamel was coming off. Brooke wouldn’t let me read what she was submitting, and not having control of the situation was driving me crazier than Britney Spears circa 2007. The “meeting” with Cassandra was definitely a shit show, but I think we managed to recover the rest of our time there.

  Apparently, nobody told Cassandra we were coming, which explained why we walked in on her, well, cumming. She reached out that night to apologize and offered to reschedule, but I didn’t think that I could ever look her in the eye again. I politely told her I would check our schedules and get back to her.

  I finally took pity on my poor bathtub, rinsed it out, and hung up my teal rubber gloves for the night. I crawled into bed and was able to settle down after reminding myself that Nick got some great pictures of Oakley eating dinner and laughing with a woman named Ruth who completely embodied the word grandma. And surprisingly, Oakley bounced back from the incident rather quickly. He really shined with all of the residents and looked like he was enjoying himself. Brooke, however, looked a little pale the rest of the afternoon. Even though she didn’t really care for me and I may have indirectly scarred her for life, I didn’t think she would write something about Oakley that might affect his willingness to sleep with her. So at least I had that going for me.

  My phone rang, and I quickly answered it, forgetting to check the caller ID. “Amanda Matthews,” Coach Howard’s booming voice said. Why was he calling me so late at night?

  I pulled the phone away from my ear with a wince. “Hey, Coach. How are you?”

  “Not so good, actually,” he grumbled. Shit. Did Brooke release the article already? Was it bad? I was mentally doing damage control when he continued. “I need you to come with us to Oklahoma, Miss Matthews.”

  Oklahoma? All I knew about Oklahoma was that it was where that crazy Tiger King dude lived. I watched that show and made a decision to never go there. “Why?”

  “We play Oklahoma University this upcoming weekend. Last time we went on a trip, Oakley slept with the head cheerleader from the opposing team and caused quite a social media stink.”

  “Why? It’s not the first time he’s slept with someone from the opposing school.”

  “No. But it’s the first time that the head cheerleader was engaged to the quarterback, and photos of them...doing things...were leaked.” I let out a sigh but welcomed the reminder that Oakley wasn’t a good guy. It was easy to forget when he looked like a fucking Greek god. “If we could avoid any scandals, I think it’ll boost ticket sales for our first home game.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath of air. I didn’t want to go to fucking Oklahoma. And I definitely didn’t want to spend my weekend watching Oakley chase pussy. “I don’t know—”

  “Dr. Haynes reached out to me this morning,” Coach Howard interrupted me. I knew with complete certainty that this was the beginning of a threat. My grade was still very much in his hands, and if I didn’t go, I just knew the report would be bad.

  “Send me the information, and I’ll be there,” I replied.

  I was sitting at a table at the Jason’s Deli at George Bush International during my hour layover. I opted to pay the one hundred and fifty-six dollars to fly to Oklahoma City instead of taking the bus full of loud, rambunctious football players. Having a little distance from Oakley also gave me the chance to plan for how I was going to keep him out of trouble.

  I have never been to an away game. Actually, I had never even been to a home game either, so I really didn’t know what to expect. I was hoping that this was going to be one of those situations where what I was imagining was way worse than reality. That the guys were going to be so tired from traveling, practicing, and playing that they would all just go straight to the hotel and go to sleep like giant, super muscular angels.

  Oh, who the fuck was I kidding? Oakley was no angel, and after hearing the coach talk, I was starting to realize that this weekend might be my biggest challenge so far. I sighed and pulled out my phone to look up the itinerary for the weekend. Today was dedicated mostly to travel and getting settled into the hotel. Later tonight, there was a dinner planned for the team that I wondered if I could get out of since I knew Coach Howard would be there. Friday was a team breakfast, workout, practice, team lunch, a small block of free time, and then the game was that night. Saturday consisted of breakfast, and then the team would leave by bus, and I would head to the airport a little before noon.

  I punched everything into my shared calendar with Oakley and finished up my fruit and yogurt parfait just as they started to call my flight. I was looking forward to the last little bit of time to myself, as I wasn’t planning on leaving Oakley’s ass alone for a single second. If the coach wasn’t going to be there, I was. I even managed to get the hotel to give me the room right across from Oakley’s.

  As I waited for them to call my boarding group, my phone started ringing. I checked the caller ID and smiled while answering. “Mom,” I greeted. “Any bodies to bury this weekend?”

  “Where are you flying to?” she asked. “I saw a charge on your credit card.” Her voice was a bit shaky and nervous. I couldn’t blame her. We hadn’t really had that much of a chance to talk over the last two weeks, and spontaneous activities were what landed me in Texas in the first place.

  “I’m going to an away game in Oklahoma,” I explained, my nose involuntarily wrinkling at the statement. I was certain that there was nothing wrong with the small state just north of Texas. I just honestly had zero desire to go there.

  “A game? As in sinfully tight football pants, rah-rah, go team?” I laughed at her description.

  “As in, I’m going to be making sure my new client doesn’t fuck anyone important or get drunk and end up in a bar brawl.”

  “I’ve seen photos of your client, Amanda, maybe you should keep him entertained in your room. They didn’t make ’em like that when I was your age.” She giggled nervously, and I tried not to imagine my mother lusting over Oakley’s Instagram feed.

  The airport called another group, and I grabbed the handle of my carry-on, then headed toward the gate. “Just be careful, okay? I’m so proud of you for taking what you were given and working with it. I just don’t want you to backslide…”

  I scrubbed my free hand down my face. “I haven’t touched alcohol since that night, Mom.”

  She sighed, like that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I just wish you weren’t all or nothing. You never could have just one drink. Just one scoop of ice cream. Just one boyfriend…” I cringed. “And now you’re in the nothing cycle. No fun. No freedom. No food…”

  Her voice trailed off. If she thought I was about to admit that I was o
bsessively counting my calories, then she was losing her touch. I knew it would trigger a demand for me to come home. She wasn’t wrong, I had an excessive personality. And if I couldn’t have it all, then I wanted nothing. There was no happy medium.

  “Look, I’m boarding the flight, so I gotta go,” I said. “Love you. Byeee.” I hung up the phone before she could complain anymore.

  I had a football player to babysit.

  Three hours later, I was sitting behind the wheel of my white rental car. Oklahoma University was just far enough that it made more sense for me to rent a car than to Uber. I punched the address to the Best Western into my maps and started the hour-long drive. I had never stayed in a Best Western, and if I weren’t such a dedicated publicist, I would have booked the nearby Hilton instead. But the team booked their rooms through their travel agency at a killer rate. I didn’t have to stay at the same hotel as the team; Coach Howard had told me I could stay wherever I liked and the university would reimburse me up to the same rate the team was paying for their rooms. However, staying at the Hilton wouldn’t allow me to keep a twenty-four-hour watch on Oakley. So Best Western it was.

  I pulled into the parking lot, grabbed all my stuff, and started to head inside. I didn’t see the team bus, which meant I could grab a quick shower before having to see anybody I knew. I felt super gross from the two planes and a long car ride. The guy behind the counter was very tall, and his name tag said Brian. He looked disinterested in his job and kind of annoyed that I walked in and interrupted whatever he was doing on his phone. He was probably watching Daddy porn.

  “Hi. I’m Amanda Matthews, checking in!” I said cheerfully. “I called earlier and requested to be across from Oakley Davis.”

  “License and credit card,” Brian replied.

  I handed them over and smiled, determined to kill him with kindness. I’ve learned from all of my traveling that the people at the front desk had a lot of power over how your stay was going to go. Brian handed my license and credit card back to me along with my key cards.

  “I just want to confirm that my room is next to Oakley Davis’s.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, I’m not allowed to give out that information,” Brian said lazily.

  I was starting to get frustrated but didn’t want to be a Karen and ask for the manager. I smiled and tried one more time. “I totally get it. But I’m his publicist. I’m traveling with the team and need to have my room either adjoining or across from his. I’m sure you’ll see it in the notes if you look. His last name is Davis. First name Oakley.”

  “Wow, Amanda,” I heard a familiar voice behind me say. “I knew you couldn’t bear to be apart from me, but now you’re bullying poor Brian here?” I turned around to see Oakley trying to stifle a laugh.

  I held my breath and braced myself for his annoying push back. The moment I felt his heat at my side and breathed in his woodsy cologne, my second heartbeat reminded me that it had been a few months since I’d been laid. “Hello, Mr. Davis,” I replied, trying to keep a sense of professionalism.

  “Sorry about her attitude, Brian. Sometimes she takes our little games a bit too far,” Oakley replied as he wrapped his arm around me. I almost shrugged him off, but I was curious to see where he was going with this and admittedly liked the feel of his muscular arm pulling me closer.

  “My girl and I like to role play, and this weekend, she’s my...publicist,” Oakley explained with a wink and one-handed finger quotes. “The tension has been building up, ya know? I think after the big game, we will finally—”

  “Continue that statement and I’ll give you a groin injury,” I interrupted.

  “Fuckkk,” Oakley playfully rasped. Poor Brian just looked at us with a confused expression. “I love when you talk dirty to me, babe.”

  He leaned in and chuckled against my neck. Fucking asshole. Just as I pulled away, Oakley addressed Brian once more. “No need to give us separate rooms. She really wants to keep an eye on me, and I think the best way to do that is to put us in the same room. Don’t you think, babe?”

  Oakley winked at me, and I could have slapped that smirk off his face. I knew this was a challenge. He wanted to see if I’d call his bluff and disappear to another room. Fuck that. If he wanted to share a room, then by golly, we were gonna share.

  “Sounds good, schnookums,” I replied, poking at his side and turning to Brian. “He loves that nickname. I can’t wait to wake up in your arms at five a.m. tomorrow.”

  11

  I was lying in a bed with Oakley Davis. I couldn’t sleep. My eyes refused to shut.

  And I had to fart.

  I peeked over the pillow barrier I had built between us and was fairly certain Oakley was asleep—like ninety-three percent sure. I was kicking myself for letting him goad me into sharing a room with him. On top of not being able to fart, walk around without makeup, or wear my ratty-ass, comfortable-as-hell, stained sweatpants, I could only imagine what the coach was going to say when he found out.

  I was contemplating getting up to go to the bathroom to fart while running some water when Oakley let out a snore. I had forgotten that he snored. It was really soft, and I found it soothing. It reminded me of my childhood dog, a pug named Charlie. She slept with me until the day I left for college. Listening to Oakley snore and thinking about Charlie relaxed me enough to snuggle down into the bed and let out a, thankfully quiet, toot. A little air poof.

  I went back to worrying about what Coach Howard was going to say, and then pictured what sexual harassment webinar Dr. Haynes would make me take, because if the coach knew, he was for sure going to tell my mentor. I was pretty sure that sleeping in the same bed as your client would violate all kinds of ethical boundaries. Even if it was his idea—especially if it was his idea.

  I rubbed my temples, trying to release some of the tension, and realized that the snoring had stopped. I turned to look in Oakley’s direction again and found him staring back at me with half open eyes. We just stared at each other for a few moments, then Oakley broke the silence. “Hey, Solver. What are you doing up? Am I just too sexy for you to sleep?” he asked, his voice groggy.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m just not a very good sleeper. Go back to sleep, we have a super busy day tomorrow. Well, today. I’m going back to sleep too,” I said softly, hoping to convince him to go back to sleep. I rolled over on my side and stayed perfectly still with my eyes closed.

  “You know what I think?” he asked. “I think you’re hungry. You barely touched dinner.”

  I opened my eyes and gnawed on my lip. He wasn’t wrong. I was surprised he’d even noticed. That stupidly persistent rumble in my stomach was getting impossible to ignore. It was easy to focus on other things when I was managing Oakley’s schedule and focusing on my senior coursework. But late at night, it was harder to pretend the emptiness in my stomach wasn’t bothering me.

  “I think you should mind your own business,” I growled, tucking the blanket under my chin. I felt the mattress shift, and Oakley got out of bed. I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard him padding across the carpet. What the hell was he doing?

  Heat traveled over my body, and when I popped my eyes open, I was met with his dark stare. “Hey there, Solver. How about you eat a protein bar?” he asked with a smirk, then slowly unwrapped the high-calorie protein treat. I watched his slow hands unveil a dark chocolate granola goodness that had the ability to make me horny for food.

  “Did you just moan?” Oakley asked.

  “Uh, no. Who does that, that would be weird,” I lied. I totally moaned. Oakley brought the granola bar almost to my lips and hovered. The chocolate was just an inch away, wrapped up in his fingers. There was the tiniest bit of chocolate that started to melt on his index finger, and I imagined licking it off. I moaned again. Oh shit. I coughed to try to cover it up.

  “Get that out of my face; I don’t even like chocolate,” I told him as I pushed away his hand. I don’t think I was super convincing since people who don’t actually like chocolate don�
�t stare longingly at it.

  Instead of moving away, Oakley chuckled to himself and launched his big, hard body onto the bed, straddling me above the covers. “What the fuck, Oakley?” I groaned.

  “Just a little bite won’t hurt, Solver,” he joked, leaning over with the granola bar.

  “This is ridiculous, Problem,” I growled.

  “If it’s so ridiculous, then you won’t have a problem eating a small bite.” Oakley’s breath feathered over my skin, and he rubbed the chocolate down my cheek and onto my neck.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” I asked.

  “All this talk is making me hungry. Can’t let this go to waste.” Then, Oakley’s flat, wet, hot tongue drew a trail of heat down my neck. “Mmm,” he moaned against my thudding pulse. “Chocolate.”

  All of my muscles tensed up, begging for more. My body reacted instinctively to the feeling of Oakley’s tongue on my neck. I couldn’t move or speak, I just lay there wanting to feel Oakley on my skin again.

  I came back to my senses when Oakley let out a laugh, staring down at me with a twinkle in his eye. He had seriously beautiful eyes, and there was no doubt that the asshole was definitely enjoying teasing me. I tried to play it cool, but I think it took me just long enough to recover for Oakley to see what his touch did to me. Come on, Amanda, shake it off, I thought to myself as he put the bar back up to my lips. The chocolate was barely touching, so soft I wouldn’t have known it was there if I weren’t looking at it.

  Oakley asked suggestively in a soft, low voice, “Are you sure you don’t want just a taste?”