Maybe I do have a thing for athletes.
His navy-blue hoodie is stretched across his biceps, which makes me a little excited to see him take it off later. I’d been joking about me walking around in my boxers to fuck with Dad, but the truth is, I’d give my left nut just to see Andrew walk around with his shirt off.
I wonder if he’s tatted.
I wonder if he has those sexy V muscles that point right to his dick.
I wonder what his naked ass looks like.
Turning my back, I walk down the hall, gesturing for him to follow me. With each step, heat burns down my spine. My dick is half hard in my jeans. I’m so fucked if this guy is going to live here with me. There’s nothing worse than wanting someone who will never want you in return. Typically, I can tell when a guy bats for the other team, or might even swing both ways, but this guy screams chick magnet to me.
“Here you go,” I grunt as I stand in the doorway to the guest room, waving inside.
“Nice view.” His deep voice rumbles its way right to my dick.
Since he’s so solid, he has to turn slightly to get past me in the doorway. His arm brushes against my chest as he passes, and I get a lungful of his scent.
Soap.
He smells like soap.
Since when does soap smell like sinful happy endings?
As he inspects the small space, I try not to wonder if he showered before he came over. Did he jerk off in the shower? I bet he’s fucking hung. Now that I’m thinking of his dick, I can’t unthink it. Things grow more awkward when Dad walks over to me and clutches my shoulder.
“Thanks for doing this, Son.”
Not like I had a choice.
“No problem,” I mutter, unable to make my tongue work properly.
Andrew sets a bag down on the bed and then peeks out the window that does, in fact, have a good view of the pond. When it gets cold as shit, as it always does in Michigan, people ice skate on it.
Dad launches into some formalities with Andrew, and I bail. I’m headed for my kitchen, eager for some sort of distraction, when my favorite one peeks her head in.
“Hey, Ashy C.”
“Hey, MiMi.”
“The old dude here yet?” She waltzes in like she owns the place, nosily looking around for my new guest. “Does he smell like Bengay? I feel like all coaches smell like Bengay and disappointment.”
My mood lifts at seeing her. She’s cute today in two dark brown braids and no makeup on. A black baseball cap she stole out of my closet sits flipped backward on her head, and she’s sporting her librarian black-rimmed glasses. She has the whole Super Mario look going on with her dark-wash overalls and a long-sleeved red thermal on. The black Doc Martens on her feet complete the look.
“He smells like soap,” I reveal. “And he’s fucking hot.”
Her brown eyes widen. “Really? Where is he? I want to see. Is he gay?”
“No.” I scrub my palm down over my face. “I fucking wish.”
She frowns and walks over to me. “Are you okay? I don’t ever see you frazzled. You’re definitely frazzled over this guy. He’s so hot he made you stupid?”
Laughing, I poke at her stomach. “So stupid I got a fucking boner in front of my dad.”
“No way,” she shrieks, and then giggles. “How mortifying! Still hard up?” She waggles her brows at me.
“Nope.” I pop the P in the word. “Dad has always been great for being a buzzkill.”
“Is your new roomie a gamer or like a total sports jock like Brayden?”
We both share a guilty look. Last night, after that dickhead left and she bailed on the sorority witches, she came over. For at least an hour, we discussed what a monster Brayden was. Then, we discussed how hot he was, both of us laughing over our fantasies of what we’d do to him if he weren’t such a dick.
“Looks like a jock. Not sure about the rest. Don’t ask him about why he left the NHL.”
Her perfectly plucked brow hikes up her forehead. “Ohhh. Dirty little secret?”
“Something bad enough he wrote it into his contract here that he wouldn’t discuss it.”
“Wow,” she says, emphasizing the word dramatically.
I can’t help but notice she has on shiny lip gloss today. I mean, her lips are rounded, drawing my attention to them when normally I wouldn’t even look. Thoughts of last night when she described how she would blow Brayden the Brat if he were cool come flooding to the front of my mind. It’d been funny when she mentioned it. Now, I can’t stop thinking about her blowing Brayden.
Laughter has me tearing my gaze from her mouth. Andrew’s laughter echoes through the apartment, waking my dick back up. Fuck. This guy is going to stress me the hell out.
Mia’s eyes are wide when she glances down to the front of my jeans. Her cheeks turn crimson, which has me rubbing the back of my neck in embarrassment. For as much as we joked around last night with our dumb fantasies, I know better. Mia is a virgin, so seeing her best friend get a chub in the kitchen is probably mortifying to her.
“Sorry,” I grumble.
She walks up to me and stands on her toes to kiss my cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll stand in front of you. Pretend to be your girl or something so he doesn’t notice.”
Chuckling, I pull her into my arms, her back against my chest, and rest my chin on her head. Dad walks out of the hallway and into the living room. When he sees Mia, he smiles genuinely.
“Hello, Mia. How are classes going?”
“Great, Curtis. Hard, but great.” Her ass presses slightly up against me, and I refrain from tickling her for being a brat.
“This school is
