“Whatever. Nobody’s got a bigger ego than DeLaurentis and I don’t see you busting his ba—chops.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you had actual fun with the football team.”
She wipes her brow. “Phew! For a minute there, I was worried about my reputation.”
“You know, if I’d known you were going to be such a smart-ass, I might not have asked you to try out.”
“Liar. You totally would’ve asked. You were desperate. I could smell it on you like cheap cologne.” There’s a wicked gleam in her eye and it’s sexy as hell. Most of the women I hook up with will say and do anything to make me happy. They wouldn’t dream of giving me the kind of lip Carter does, but it’s one of the things that sets her apart. I fucking love it.
“Are you sure that wasn’t Coop?” I ask, feigning confusion. “He wears more body spray than a teenage boy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my cologne,” Coop says, slinging an arm around Carter’s shoulders. Why the fuck is he always touching her? It’s like he can’t keep his paws to himself lately. “I’ve never gotten a single complaint from the female population.” He pauses and winks at Carter. “Of course, it could be due to the fact that I give such good orgasms they’re usually left speechless.”
“You’re such a pig.” Carter rolls her eyes and shrugs off his touch.
“You say pig, I say generous lover.” Coop shrugs. “Potayto, potahto.”
“Incoming,” I say, thankful for the interruption. If Coop lays it on any thicker, I’m going to lose my lunch. Or knock out my best friend.
Coop peels off as two little girls in Waverly jerseys approach, pens in hand. “Can we have your autograph?” they ask in unison.
“Sure.” I stop and reach for one of the pens. “What’re your names?”
The girl snatches her hand back. “Not you. Kennedy.” She swivels from me to Carter, a look of pure adoration on her face. Well, fuck me. Maybe Carter was right about my ego. “It’s so cool that you’re playing football with the boys. I want to play football next year too! Just like you.”
Carter’s eyes widen, as if it never occurred to her that someone might take inspiration from her story or ask for her autograph. “Oh, okay. Um, who should I make it out to?” she asks, accepting the pen the girl offers.
“Beth, please.”
“And Maggie. Is it true you used to play soccer?” Maggie asks, hope shining in her eyes. “I play soccer too!”
“That’s awesome,” Kennedy says, scrawling her name on the team photo. “What position?”
“I’m a striker.” She points to Beth, the girl who checked my ego. “My sister’s a goalie.”
“Two vital positions that require speed and strength.” Carter smiles and hands the pen and signed picture back. “Both good skills for a kicker.”
“Thanks!” The girls squeal, each grasping a corner of the photo. “This is so cool. Wait until I tell my friends at school I met you.”
“She’s a great kicker. We’re really lucky to have her on the team,” I say, figuring Carter might need an assist wrapping this up since it seems like her first time signing autographs. “And I’ll bet if you keep practicing, you can be just as good as her and play for Waverly one day.”
“Totally!” Carter agrees, giving the girls a small wave as they race back to the curb where their parents wait.
We rejoin the team, now bringing up the rear of the procession. “Does that happen to you often?” Carter asks, keeping her gaze fixed ahead.
“Often enough.” I shrug, trying to match her casual demeanor. “Pretty cool, huh?”
She wrinkles her nose. “What? Getting my ego stroked?”
“No, inspiring the next generation.” I wave to a group of fans doing the Waverly cheer as we pass by. “I remember the first time I met Peyton Manning. Damn near pissed myself, I was so excited.”
She does a double take. “You were a Peyton Manning fanboy?”
“Hell, yeah. Still am,” I say, ignoring the half-hearted fanboy dig. “The guy’s a legend. Meeting your idol can be a real motivator. To those little girls, you’re a hero, someone who’s breaking down barriers and showing them anything is possible.”
Carter stops, a thoughtful look replacing her prior distaste. “I’d rather inspire them with my brain than my ability to kick a ball.” She harrumphs, her bottom lip jutting out like an invitation. One my own lips would greedily accept if it weren’t for the horde of onlookers. The urge to take her in my arms and suck that bottom lip until she’s begging for more nearly obliterates all rational thought. “Girls are always shortchanged when it comes to STEM.”
“Who says you can’t do both?” I stuff my hands in my pockets. It doesn’t eliminate my desire to touch her, but it damn sure makes it impossible to act on the impulse. An impulse that’s getting harder to resist each day. “Change the narrative.”
“It’s not that simple. Not with all the hoopla surrounding my role on the team.”
“Nothing worth having comes easy.” I don’t need to look her in the eye to know she gets my meaning. The air around us hums with electricity that has nothing to do with the crowds and everything to do with the pull between us. Maybe we aren’t relationship goals, but fuck, doesn’t she want to sweat this thing out between the sheets as badly as I do?
Carter clears her throat. “Your poker face is shit, you know that, right?”
I turn to look at her, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, smile frozen in place. “I’m confident enough that I don’t mind showing my hand.” Carter can deny it until my balls turn blue and shrivel off, but the way she kissed me? I know she feels the spark between us, even if she thinks acting on it’s a bad idea. Hell, I can’t disagree, but I’m a risk taker by
