Page 19 of Trick Play
“Excuse me,” a voice says behind me.
“Oh. Sorry.” I turn and offer a smile to a girl I recognize with wavy lavender-pink hair. Autumn, I think her name is. She lives on the other end of the hall from me with that other girl who was at the party with the giant left tackle. Cal’s sister. They both know Dani, but I’ve kept my distance, though now that I’m face to face with her and she’s giving me a warm smile, I can’t remember why. I’ve shut myself off from everyone this semester, kept myself holed up in my room or the library, only making rare exceptions to do things with my roommate. Because … at the beginning of the semester that felt smart. But now it just feels lonely.
She pauses before leaving, taking a minute to examine me. “Deep breaths,” she encourages.
I blink and offer a confused smile. “I’m sorry?”
She chuckles. “You look nervous. Breathe deep. From your belly. Like this.” She places one hand on her own stomach and sucks in a breath through her nose, making her hand move, then she lets it out very slowly. I mimic her, almost unconsciously. We breathe together a few more times, and I do feel strangely calmer.
“There,” she says, offering me a sunny smile. “Better, right?”
I return her smile. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Big date?”
Chuckling, I look away and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Something like that.”
She presses her back to the door, her hands behind her, and starts to open it. “Focus on whatever it is you want, and let it come to you,” she advises, sounding like some kind of new age guru. Then she shrugs. “And if at some point tonight, you realize this date isn’t what you want at all, leave.”
“Oh, it’s that easy, huh? Just up and leave?” I step through the door she’s holding open for me.
“It can be. You’re in charge, after all. It’s your life. No need to waste it on crappy dates with boring guys or assholes.”
“What if all the not-boring guys are assholes, though?”
She turns and studies me for a moment. “Maybe you need to reevaluate why you’re only attracted to assholes?”
And with that parting shot, she heads for the door.
I follow her out more slowly, contemplating what she said. Am I only attracted to assholes? And if I am, what do I do about that?
Stepping into the cold November air, my breath immediately condenses into puffs above my head. And then it stops altogether.
Because Cal’s standing there, leaning back against his car, his thick, muscley thighs clad in dark wash denim that molds to the shape of his quads, bulging just above his knee as he props himself up, his unzipped black leather jacket held closed by the weight of his hands in his pockets. Good god. Something about a hot guy in a leather jacket just really does it for me. I want to feel the softness of that leather as I brush it aside and slip my hands through that opening to feel the shape of him beneath it, the scent of the leather mixing with his cologne. Will I get to do that later?
Or should I take Autumn’s advice and bail?
No.
The objection rings through me, low and resonant as a church bell. No, I don’t want to bail. I want to see where this night can take us. I can reevaluate whether or not I’m only attracted to assholes—and whether or not Cal actually is an asshole—later.
Because right now, Cal’s looking at me like he wants to eat me up.
And I’m looking at him like I want to let him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cal
Holy fuck.
I’ve mostly seen Piper bundled up against the cold or in casual hangout clothes. All dressed up and ready for a date?
My mouth goes dry, and I almost swallow my tongue as my eyes track up the long lean length of her legs clad in black stockings, the hem of a red dress swishing a few inches above her knees. Her open jacket lets me see a plunging V-neck that gives a tantalizing view of her cleavage, the fabric of the dress molding to her tits and nipping in at the waist.
But swallowing my tongue would be a tragedy of epic proportions. Because if I did that, how would I lick every inch of that fit little body?
God, deciding to pursue her is the best idea I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
