“Green,” I answered, pulling a short stack of Pringles from its can. I dropped one on my chest, and Peters snatched it up with his teeth, sucking it in like a vacuum.
“Green like spring grass or green like emeralds?” he asked, kissing some of the chip dusting off my chest.
“Green like money—that’s why I sleep with NFL hopefuls, duh,” I teased, brushing the rest off with my hand.
Peters narrowed his amber eyes and growled as he flipped back on his pillow.
“What’s your favorite color, then?” I flipped over to face him, sinking my head deep into his pillow.
“Well, it was blue, but now it’s brown.”
“Brown?”
“Yes, brown like your eyes, Sydney Fu.”
I laughed, but it came out choppy and nervous.
Then he grazed the side of my face with his fingertips and paused at the corner of my eye. “I’m serious. You’re dangerous. Your coffee-colored eyes make me forget the world exists.”
Feeling a landslide of rocks roll into my throat, I shifted until his arm dropped. “You don’t have to put on the charm for me. We’ve already done the deed, so the flirting can stop.”
“I’m not flirting,” he said softly. “I mean it, Sydney. You’re fun to be around. Most girls know who I am before they even approach me. I can tell you don’t give a shit, and that—”
“I like your pictures,” I said, pointing across his room at a collection of artwork on his wall.
I didn’t want to admit I knew who he was. He thought I was different. It was never my intention to sleep with Northern’s famous QB, but he was sexy and nice. He didn’t try to snag me with bragging. His pickup line was about yogurt, for Christ’s sake.
“Thanks.” He flipped on his side to look at the wall. “Kind of a side hobby of mine.”
“You drew those?” I didn’t mean it to come out so shocked, but I was. They were striking abstract pieces. I couldn’t help but smile. They were simple yet complicated… kind of my life motto.
“Yes.” He gave me a sidelong glance, reveling in my reaction. “Believe it or not, dumb jocks have interests outside of banging chicks and collecting team stats.” He lay back on his pillow and took my hand in his. Playing with my fingers, he said, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I think I’ve got you all figured out, Gray Peters, brooding NFL hopeful.”
“You do, huh?” Turning on his side, Peters ran his hand down my hip. A fresh line of goose bumps followed his path. “And what do you love most in this world?”
“Music,” I answered without a second thought. “I love music. I love the way it makes me feel. I love watching people enjoy it with their bodies. Singing to themselves in the car. Its language is universal and bonding and beautiful… ” I stopped when I realized how sappy I sounded.
“Keep going,” he whispered, watching me with those intense honeyed eyes.
“Well, even if it’s a stupid and pointless thing to strive for, that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life. People should always do what makes them happiest. Or at least try to.”
Peters took a long look at his art-covered wall. “I agree.”
“And what do you love most in the world, Peters?”
Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hand through his tousled hair. “Talking to you,” he said with a cocked grin, and I lightly punched him in the arm. “I need water. How ‘bout you?” Glancing at his desk clock, he let out a long sigh. “Shit, we’ve been up talking all night. I’ve got practice in three hours.”
Here it comes. I waited for him to kick me out, sure this was his way of escaping without looking like a total jerk.
Instead, Peters twisted his back in one long stretch and turned to face me. “But it’s been worth every second.” Rising from the bed, he threw on a pair of boxers and running shoes. “Don’t move a muscle, gorgeous.” He leaned down, giving me one last kiss. “Because we’re not done with this conversation.
Chapter Thirty
Okay, it was clear I’d scared Sydney.
It was Wednesday and she still hadn’t texted back.
Maybe I was too eager. Did I move too fast?
I slumped back on my cracked wooden stool in the stadium locker room, a towel wrapped around my waist. Like a lovesick girl, I’d been checking my phone every thirty seconds, expecting a text. Crap, Sydney was all I could think about. Her pouty lips, her curves, her quick wit that skyrocketed my pulse with every quip.
I was such a fool.
“What are you doing?” Chance sank on his stool and pulled a T-shirt over his head. “Still waiting on Porter to return your texts?” He smirked and started to throw on a sweatshirt.
I smacked him in the stomach as it covered his head, and he hunched over on impact.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the row of metal lockers. “Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Oh, I think she does.” Chance jerked his head down the wide carpeted locker room hall. The oak double doors were pulled open, and Sydney’s head popped inside. She looked from left to right before spotting me down at the end of the room.
“Get the fuck out!” someone screamed, and then a shoe hit the door. She slammed it closed, and I hopped off the bench, still wrapped in my towel, and ran after her.
She was halfway down the long concrete hall separating the lower levels of the stadium stands when I yelled out for her.
“Sydney?”
Stopping in her tracks, she cautiously turned around. She was wearing a knee-length skirt, her Converse, and a fitted T-shirt. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a messy bun, showing off her lightly faded tattoo, and her messenger bag was slung over her shoulder.
She looked past me toward the open field illuminated by the stadium lights. “I was looking for Jack,” she said quietly, twisting the tip of her toe in a circle. Her timid voice had me spiraling. All I wanted to do was find an empty closet and have my way with her. “I haven’t seen Allison all week, so I thought he might know what was going on.”
The concrete froze my bare toes as I padded toward her. “So you planned on ambushing your brother in the shower with forty other guys?”
Nodding, she fixed her eyes thoughtfully on my chest, drinking me in. “I figured he couldn’t run away from me in there. Plus, I’ve seen it all.”
I could feel her heated stare wash over me, and I hardened under my towel. Pulling it tighter around me, I hoped she didn’t notice. When her lips rose slightly, I knew I’d been caught.
“I thought maybe I could knock, but when no one answered, I just took a quick peek.” Her eyes hit my towel and settled at the loose knot in the fabric with intense interest.
“Did you like what you saw, Porter?” Deciding to mess with her, I suggestively fingered the knot.
Sydney wasn’t the type to blush, but the stroke of my thumb over the cotton fiber turned her normally olive cheeks to crimson. As I took a step forward, she backed up against the wall, her shade deepening with each move.
When I was foot away, I laid my palms on either side of her head, and her eyes roamed up my chest, finally landing on my face.
“You’ve seen one and you’ve seen them all, right?” she said in a flat whisper, turning her face against the wall. Probably to cool off those cheeks.
Boldly, I moved her chin to center on my face. “I don’t think that’s true, Sydney,” I teased, pressing my chest against her. The moisture from my shower wet her T-shirt, and she drew in a slow, controlled breath. “You gonna let me take you out to dinner?”
Rubbing my thumb across her jawline, I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. When she tried to move away, I gently grabbed her by the waist.
A group of guys bailed out of the locker room, glanced our way, and headed down the opposite hall, laughing. I didn’t care. It was just Sydney and me. I had her. Her chest heaved. She was chewing on that lower lip, making it raw. I had her.