by Eden Butler
He moved his chin, a half an inch away from her lips, then grinned, a half smile gesture that made her release the breath she’d been holding.
“Be sure to lock up before you head out,” he told her, winking before he turned to grab his clothes and put as much space between that off-limits girl and himself as he could.
4.
GIA
Drew Lavigne was a tall creole guy from Thibodaux who seemed to always be hanging around the coaches’ offices every time Gia dropped by for the weekly meetings her uncle insisted they have. Each time, Drew flirted with her, seeming not remotely worried about the “hands off” warning she knew her uncle had given the players about her.
Drew was Teflon. He didn’t care about Uncle Mike’s warning or not getting any field time. There would be plenty when he began first string for the Crimson Tide the following semester. The pending transfer made Drew bold.
Gia respected that.
But her thoughts weren’t concerned with Drew and how he kept glancing her way. They seemed to be focused on reminding her how embarrassed she was.
As much as she tried to ignore the fact that the earth had not opened up and swallowed her whole after she’d humiliated herself in front of Luka, the day wasn’t horrible. Not completely.
She knew he watched her. The defensive line was just a hundred feet away, congregated by her uncle waiting for instruction and Luka was there. She caught his shape in her peripheral.
She just couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
Be sure to lock up before you head out, he’d told her. Gia winced, lowering her face, hoping her hair fell low enough to cover the expression. What the hell had she’d been thinking? The truth was, she wanted Luka. And she wasn’t a prude. She could have sex with him, and it could be just sex. This was college. This was a time for new experiences.
But she’d never acted that way before. Not once in her life.
And she wasn’t blind. She wasn’t simple. He’d been turned on by her bold words and forwardness. Luka’s expression had been strained. He’d been a little overwhelmed, that much she could make out from how he clenched his jaw and how deeply he inhaled as he pulled a towel over her shoulders.
But he had rejected her. No amount of meaning behind his mannerisms would change that. It didn’t matter if he’d been turned on by her words or her body or the blatant way she offered herself to him. Luka still rejected her.
It had been the heat, and maybe the close proximity of his nearly naked body as he stood there staring at her, she’d told herself. That was explanation enough for Gia to reason away what had diminished her surprise and shyness when she turned to find Luka staring at her. The heat numbed her, but Luka’s expression, the slow rake of his gaze over her body had eradicated her hesitation.
But now…God.
No matter how many times Drew Lavigne flirted with her or how much of an effort Gia made not to look at Luka as the defensive line ran drills in one last post-holiday training session, the fact still remained—Luka rejected her.
“Hey,” Drew said, standing next to Gia by the water table, his large hand brushing her arm when she offered him a bottle of water.
“How’s it going?” She wouldn’t flirt back, but there was no need to be rude. Drew was nice enough. He was even cute, in a meathead, football jock sort of way. But he wasn’t Gia’s type.
“Good,” he started, stretching those large arms over his head before he rested his hand on his hip. They both turned toward Uncle Mike when he blew his whistle, shooting a glare from across the field at his linemen, then to Drew who waved the man off, seeming unbothered by the coach’s warning glare. “Man, he’s protective, yeah?”
“A little.” The smile came easy, but then it always did when Uncle Mike shot for warnings with nothing more than his angry scowls. He was imposing, but not scary. Besides, Gia knew he was all bark, no bite. “I think he will always see me as five years old with pigtails and a pink mini football tucked under my arm begging my brothers to let me play with them.”
“Hmm… Pig tails?” Drew asked, his tone dipping low, as though the image in his head was nothing like the innocent memory Gia described. She heard the amusement disappear, replaced by something she recognized as lust. How many times had she heard that from men who assumed because she was a woman hanging around a bunch of players that she was open game to mess with? Not her uncle’s players, never. But their classmates, even players from other teams all made assumptions. But Drew knew better. At least, Gia thought he should.
She threw a glare at him, eyebrow arching, mouth tightening into a line. “Whatever you’re thinking… don’t.”
He straightened, hands going up in surrender the second she stepped away from him. “No, no…I didn’t mean.”
“I know what you meant.” He opened his mouth, looking stupid, looking a little lost but Gia ignored him, ignored everything but the bottles of water and towels she arranged around the table. “I think maybe you should get back on that field, Lavigne.” She set two rows of bottles near the front of the table, not looking at him when she spoke. “Nothing here for you.”
“Gia…look…” he tried, grabbing for her, nearly touching her shoulder before she moved out of his reach. Then, just as quickly as she moved, a spiraling football landed in the center of Drew’s gut, catching him by surprise. He released a muffled wheeze, all breathy gasp and coughing grunt before he doubled over, trying and failing to catch his breath.
She wanted to laugh. In her head, it was damn funny anytime some privileged jock got his ego deflated, but Gia was smoother than that. She could be composed. But, she was damn nosey and moved her attention away from Drew, hunched over, holding himself around the middle and scanned the field, watching the players as they laughed, her uncle as he focused on a group of linebackers set off to the side of the field, oblivious to Drew and his small predicament. Then, Gia spotted him, that big, beautiful smug idiot who rejected her. She’d spent most of the day steadily avoiding him. Hadn’t even glanced his way, but across that field, one look told her all she needed to know about who’d leveled that ball at Lavigne.
Luka gave Gia a mild grin, only one side of his mouth arching up, and his cheek dented deep with a dimple, his gaze moving to Drew as the guy coughed and wheezed. Gia shook her head, a little disbelieving how amused Luka looked. How easy it all seemed to him, to control his movements as he waved to one of his teammates, motioning for another ball which he caught without taking his attention from Drew or Gia who leaned against the table next to him.
Gia cocked an eyebrow, watching Luka as he moved the ball between his hands, that half smile lowering as he looked from Drew, then right at Gia. For a second, she felt nervous again, still a little humiliated. Then Luka frowned, spotting how Lavigne straightened, rubbing his stomach before he reached for Gia, like he expected her to lend him a hand.
Luka’s half grin disappeared and the rush of humiliation left Gia as he gripped the ball, his long fingers digging into the laces before he flung the ball back at Drew, knocking it into the guy’s shoulder.
“Shit!” Lavigne cried, stumbling back.
Gia ignored the whining, angling her head as she watched Luka, not expecting the look he gave her—a phantom of the hungry expression she’d seen from him last night, but this time with something that reminded Gia of a kid denied his favorite treat.
When she only blinked, throwing him a stare that she thought was probably curious, Luka’s frown softened, twisting into a relaxed grin. He shrugged once, as if he had no explanations to give her, then returned the full smile she offered him.
The campus was a ghost town. There weren’t many souls haunting the hallways or crowding the union. Gia liked the solitude. She liked the seclusion. It gave her time to think. It gave her time to recall the subtle tease Luka seemed to have perfected.
He’d watched her walk from the field, even made to follow her off of it, but got stopped by Uncle Mike as he rounded up his players for one last meeting. Mi
ke never expected her to stay after practices and she wouldn’t hang around, waiting on Luka. One humiliation a week was plenty, never mind the caveman behavior he’d exhibited with the football and poor clueless Drew Lavigne.
He probably knew nothing about her. He’d have no idea what dorm was hers or where she’d be. But then again, Luka and Kona Hale had been CPU legends the second they’d arrived on campus—the sort of boys good girls like Gia got warned about. If Luka wanted to find her, he would. She had zero doubts about that.
Normally, Gia was a good girl, certainly not the sort to stand naked in a shower letting some boy gawk at her. At least she’d been raised to be. It was nothing to be around beautiful men and be unaffected. She’d grown up those types her entire life in New York. But Luka had done something to her. He’d changed everything with one smile, one friendly “hey,” and the smallest displays of gratitude every time Gia did her job on the field.
And the shower incident? Well. She had no idea what had gotten into her.
He impacted her. It was the only excuse she had for being so bold. Gia had turned, limbs and muscles relaxed from the pulse of the water to find Luka, wearing only a towel gripped at his waist watching her. The look he gave had been raw. It had been primal, and it was that look alone that emboldened Gia. It made her fearless. It made her determined to take what she wanted and in that foggy, hot room, she’d wanted Luka Hale.
You’re young, he’d said to her, his expression going wide, tongue slipping out to wet his bottom lip when she teased with, I’m old enough for you.
Gia fell onto her bed, stuffing her head under her pillows as her face flamed, just remembering how bold she’d been…and how turned on. She couldn’t explain it. Not how she’d acted or why on earth Luka hurled balls at Drew today as though he wanted to get the guy away from her. The optimist in her wanted to believe he regretted turning her down. The realist in her thought maybe Luka was just an asshole. She’d bet money that something in the middle was likely closer to the truth.
Gia would have stayed there all night, staring at the white ceiling, counting the long seams along the decades-old molding, letting her mind go blank. Maybe somewhere in the next few hours she’d get undressed, tug off her jeans and boots, take off the fitted sweater her mother had given her last Christmas, and resign herself to the reality that she’d spend the entire Thanksgiving break alone in her dorm, avoiding phone calls from her guilty-sounding parents about missing their first holiday away from their only daughter. But Italy was beautiful this time of year and they’d only ever have one thirty-year anniversary. Besides, it would be cold in New York. It would never be New York-cold in Louisiana in November.
And, of course, pathetic as it sounded, there were no Luka Hales in New York.
“God…” she groaned, stuffing her pillow over her face because even her thoughts sounded pitiful, because she knew the shower scene wouldn’t stop repeating on that constant loop in her head. But…that smile today. “That damn smirk,” Gia said against the pillow, lowering it when a noise sounded from the hallway. She went still, holding the pillow to her chest as she listened. The campus was empty except for the university police and possibly the cleaning staff. Becky Lincoln, a sophomore from Idaho, was the only other resident in her building supposedly staying during the break, but Gia had spotted the girl leaving that afternoon with an overnight bag on her back as she climbed into her boyfriend’s black Chevy with wheels three sizes too big for its frame.
It was nearly eleven p.m. and Gia was alone. There was a can of pepper spray in her bedside table and a baseball bat underneath her mattress, but she didn’t grab either as the footfalls on the other side of the door grew louder. Some part of her brain told her there was nothing to worry about. A dumber, more hopeful part promised her Luka had managed to track her down.
“Yeah, right,” she whispered to the empty room, pulling the bat out from between the mattress and box spring after she slipped from the bed, making it to the door to press her ear against the wood. No one stood in front of it from what she could see out of the peephole, but it wasn’t exactly a 360-degree view. Her grip tight, Gia waited, wondering how long she’d have to stay there, half-guessing what would happen, her heart pounding against her ribs until something did and then, with no warning at all, three sharp rattles sounded against her door and Gia jumped, dropping her bat in the process.
The polished wood clattered onto the tile floor and Gia had to jump out of its way as the base nearly came on top of her foot. “Shit!” Another quick succession of knocks on her door and Gia jerked it open, picking up the bat to lift it while she did.
“Hold up!” Luka said, hands up in surrender as he jumped back and out of Gia’s reach. “Easy.”
“What are you…” She relaxed, dropping her shoulders as she moved into the hallway, looking up and down the corridor before she looked back up at him. “What the hell?”
Luka went still, only moving his chin and shifting his gaze to the bat, then to Gia’s grip on it before he motioned to her once more. Gia frowned, glancing at the bat herself before she moved it behind her.
“Sorry…I’m alone here.” She deposited the bat in her room, not moving the door open as she did.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, not moving until Gia leaned against the door frame. Luka slipped his hands into his pockets and fought a threatening grin, something that Gia knew should have annoyed her, but she couldn’t for the life of her name why. After several quiet seconds, Luka stepped closer, that grin slipping, and his voice became soft, sweet. “I know better than to bang on doors this late at night. I could get us both into trouble.”
“No,” she said, liking the way his tone sounded, how it seemed to calm her, shoot smooth, sweet waves of warmth inside her. Or, maybe those were warning bells she tried to silence. She couldn’t quite tell when he looked at her the way he was just then. “No one’s here and technically, this is a university break. School regulations don’t apply.”
“Oh, they apply,” he said, leaning against the door frame. This put Luka just inches from Gia, close enough that she could make out the hint of mocha on his breath. He liked the coffee shop next to the university bookstore. She’d noticed him hanging out there a few times a week when she passed the shop on her way from her management class. He shrugged, the movement a little guilty, reminding Gia how Luka could pull off the unabashed bad boy thing with little effort. “They apply especially to me.”
“Because you’re on the football team?”
That earned Gia a wider grin and a noise that sounded somewhere between a snort of laughter and an exasperated sigh before he shook his head. “Because I’m a Hale.”
Luka had a rounder face than Kona and softer features. Gia hadn’t spent much time focusing on Luka’s twin. He was a little too larger-than-life for her, too much of the center of attention. But she’d have to be blind not to notice how beautiful both Hale men were. As Luka stared down at her, she decided right then that she wanted to know if his lips tasted as sweet as they looked.
“Gia…” Luka started, that voice still low, still as hypnotizing as the sight of his mouth and those dark eyes as he watched her.
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m…”
What did he say? she asked herself. The hell is wrong with me?
She straightened, stepping back when his words registered, realizing that humiliation stung a little bit sharper the second time around. What was her problem? Why was she always mooning over this guy?
“So…” she tried, gripping the door handle just to have something to do as he went on watching her. “What are you doing here?” Gia shook her head, a sudden realization forming in her head as she shook herself out of the dumb fog Luka seemed to bring with him with that damn smirk. “How’d you find me?”
“I’m…resourceful,” he admitted, looking over her head. Luka shifted his attention around her, as though there was something that caught his interests just beyon
d the threshold of her door. “You got anything in there to drink?”
She followed his gaze, looking over her shoulder before she turned back to him, heart hammering at the mere idea of Luka in her room. Gia tried pushing down the intensity of her feelings, and calm the twist of emotion that rumbled in her stomach before she nodded, motioning inside her dorm room to welcome Luka.
“Nothing fancy, I’m afraid.” She turned toward the bookshelf next to the window, fishing inside the cabinet below it to grab a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Jack and no ice. No Coke either.”
“I can handle it straight,” Luka said, smiling as he shut the door behind him.
The room seemed so much smaller with him in it. Luka dwarfed Claire’s bed when he sat on in to tug off his jacket and the frilly purple duvet cover little like a baby’s blanket compared to his mammoth size. But his expression was open, and his smile was friendly when Gia offered him a small shot of the brown liquid from the shot glass with “Polyjuice Potion” written on the side in Harry Potter font she always kept next to the whiskey bottle.
“So can I.”
They stared at each other—Luka relaxed, his expression easy as he looked up at Gia with her straight back and the shot glass empty before Luka could get his to his lips. There was something hanging like a fog in the room. It was a strange current of unspoken knowledge that neither one of them seemed willing to discuss. Luka watched Gia as she refilled her glass and offered him another. He continued to watch her down the second shot and refused another offer of a third from her before he set his on Claire’s bedside table.
“Gia,” Luka started, grabbing the bottle from her when she held it over the glass for another shot. She didn’t have to respond or make an argument over his stopping her. “Should we talk about this…thing?”
She moved then, not sitting next to him, but putting one knee near the foot of Claire’s bed. “Thing?”