“Damn. Who is the hot girl in the stands?” “Haven’t seen her before. Fuck. Those legs are begging to be clamped around my head.” They shove each other. “After me, bro.” I don’t even glance up from the playbook. This is normal bullshit from my teammates. They’re always going on and on about women,
“Then why can’t you see how different we are?” My fingers pause on the final button. “What are you talking about?” She presses her lips together and shakes her head, so I prompt her again, desperate to know what’s going on in her mind. It seems bad. I don’t like it. I take her by the shoulders. “Ta
The closer we get to the cove, the more self-conscious I’m becoming. Maybe the spot is only magical to me. Maybe this star athlete will take one look at my little crescent of sand with a view of the ocean and shrug. But he’s holding my left hand as he drives, kissing my wrist, my knuckles, my palm
He looks past me, nostrils flaring. He hesitates. “What if the championship doesn’t mean anything without him there? What if he’s the reason I’ve done so well?” Silence passes. I hold my breath, waiting for him to say more. “We built this supposed career together. He was there every step of the way,
“But I want to get an education.” His forehead nudges mine. “But I want you pregnant as fuck.” Is he serious right now? “Well you’ll have to wait.” He rips my skirt off. Tears the material straight down the middle, his chest rising and falling with dramatic inhales and exhales. His fist twists in
Of all the atrocious shit I’ve done since my father died—vandalizing cars, getting into drunken brawls—the thoughts I’m having right now are by far the worst. I stand above Stella while she spreads the blanket out on the sand. Her skirt is in tatters in my car, so she’s wearing nothing but panties
“No!” Her cheeks darken. “I mean, n-no.” I nod with mock seriousness. “You should probably take yours off, too. Just so I don’t feel self-conscious.” She smirks adorably. “Nice try. You don’t even know the meaning of self-conscious. Not when you’ve got all of this…” She wiggles her fingers near my
“Sure.” She giggles—making a significant dent in my irritation. “That won’t be distracting at all.” “Distracting how?” “The entire time I’ve been going through my notes, you’ve looked like…I don’t know. Like you’re ready to pounce on me.” “I am.” She tilts her head, exasperated, and it’s almost