“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just Kaitlyn being Kaitlyn.” I drop my phone even though she’s still texting, and let loose a sigh as I take in Christian’s profile. A few minutes later, he pulls up to the back of Wolf House, and I climb out. He carries me up the stairs, per usual, and after depositing me on his bed, he grabs his backpack.
He eyes me, as I stretch out, and I’m almost certain I heard a groan in his throat as he takes me in. “Pizza after the game?”
“You know you don’t have to come back here to keep me company. I know you guys like to celebrate at the Growler and I don’t want to keep you from your teammates and the fans.”
He hikes his backpack over his shoulder. “That’s assuming we win.”
“Are you going to win, Christian?”
He grins. “Fuck yeah, we’re going to win. See you later, Maize, I’ll bring pizza.”
“No Christian, I am not keeping you from the party and I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’ve been missing you.”
He opens his mouth, and for a second I think he’s going to protest, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “Yeah, you’re right.”
He leaves, and I hate, HATE, the stupid disappointment settling in my gut. He should be with his teammates, the cheerleaders and his fans. I’m beginning to believe, despite what he says, I am putting him out. A goddamn burden, because he feels responsible for me. I should just pack up, and go back to my place, flood or not.
I glance around, and as I consider that, I get a text from Kaitlyn.
Meet me outside Wolf House. I’m here waiting for you.
I snort. She’s good at reading me, and maybe she’s thinking the same thing I am, despite her ‘cob’ comment earlier. Needing a breath of fresh air, I text back that I’ll be there in a second, or as fast as my boot will allow me—because I suddenly need to be out of Christian’s space. Maybe she’ll come back in with me to help me pack up.
The house is silent when I open the bedroom door. Later tonight though, after the party, whether the Falcons win or not, it will be rocking. I go down the back stairs, as it’s easier with my boot, and circle the building to find Kaitlyn standing there, scrolling on her phone.
“Hey.”
She turns, and makes a face. “Where did you come from?”
“Back entrance. That’s the way Christian always makes me come in and out.”
“Okay.” She frowns. “Not weird at all.”
I laugh. “It’s the boot. There are fewer stairs.” At least that’s what he says. A knot tightens in my stomach. Maybe it is weird, and maybe I’m overlooking the weirdness because I’m well, not seeing things clearly when I’m around Christian.
“That makes sense,” she says, and I feel a measure of relief. “Come on,” she says and tucks her arm in mine, dragging me along.
“Where are we going?”
“To the game, of course.” She says it like I should know.
I dig my good heel in, but my heart takes that time to squeeze, a not so gentle reminder that Christian’s father doesn’t attend. “I don’t like football.”
“We’re still going. It’s your fourth year, and you haven’t been to a single game. You can’t graduate from Kingston with that black cloud hanging over your head.”
I laugh. “It’s not a black cloud.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But don’t you want to watch hot stuff play?”
I fold my arms, and lift my chin a notch. “No, I don’t.” Okay, well, maybe secretly I do, but he didn’t ask me to come. Will he be upset? It’s a big stadium, he’ll never know.
She winks at me like she knows something I don’t. “I bet he’ll like having you there.”
I give an unladylike snort as a car drives by on the street, the horns honking. Looks like everyone on campus is excited for the game—everyone but me, that is. “He won’t even know.” Wow, way to sound like a whiny baby. We’re nothing more than friends—and yeah, I want to jump him—but I have no claim on him, no reason to be upset that he didn’t ask me to come. Why would he? I told him I hated football. I hate myself for that now, because a good friend would go to support their friend whether they hated the game or not, right?
“If we scream loud enough, he’ll know we’re there.”
“I’ll leave that to the cheerleaders. Wait, why would you say he’ll like having me there?”
She pokes my forehead. “For a smart girl, you’re kind of dense.”
“I am no—”
“Maize, he’s totally into you. I’ve seen you two at the library. You’re too lost in your textbooks to notice the way he looks at you.”
Honestly, I’m too tenses when I’m around him to even concentrate on my textbooks. I read the same paragraph ten times last time we were at the library, which is so not good for my grades. “How does he look at me?”
“Like you’re the corn on the cob and he wants to eat you.”
I swallow as that visual dances in my mind’s eye. Christian on his knees, his hands touching me as he parts my sex with his tongue and brings me to climax. Oh boy!
“Whatever,” I say, ignoring the flutter inside me, and hating the high pitch of my voice. “Fine, I’ll go, but promise me, no screaming. I don’t like to draw attention to myself and you know that.”
“I can’t promise that. I get caught up in the game and things just spill from my lips.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I need a new best friend.”
She laughs, and drags me across campus and to the stadium. We finally find seats, and I can’t seem to
