Caclass="underline" GTG. Team meeting in twenty.
Grey: :)
Calvin
I’m pulling the slobbery mouth guard off my teeth when I see her.
I briskly shake my head side to side, beads of perspiration flying out of my damp hair, and squint up into the stands, convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me.
Under the stadium light, among the SMU and Notre Dame fans donning their navy and gold school colors, Grey stands, her long blonde hair whipping in the wind as she makes her way, one metal bleacher step at a time, down towards the rugby field.
I shake my head again. Holy fuck. What is she doing here?
My breath catches as I blink in her direction—not just from being winded from the hard-fought game we just won. No. I’m suddenly winded from an adrenaline rush of another kind: Lust. Anticipation. Uncertainty.
I stand frozen on the sidelines, surrounded by my teammates packing up their gear. Another bead of sweat rolls down my neck and drips onto my already soaked jersey.
“Hottie approaching at three o’clock,” the team’s athletic trainer, Paul, announces. “Wow. She’s… wow. “
“That’s no ordinary hottie, Paul,” Mason announces, slapping a hand down on my shoulder. “That’s Tighthead’s stalker. Steer clear.”
Paul stares, captivated, at Greyson’s encroaching figure. “Why would anyone want to steer clear of that?” Lucky for Paul, he just sounds fascinated, not perverted.
Aaron stuffs a towel and sweatshirt into his duffel before joining in the mocking. “Holy shit, man. It looks like your stalker really is a stalker! Were you full of shit when you said she wasn’t stalking you?”
“Are you guys being serious?” Paul, armed with this new information, tilts his head and appraises her. “She’s a stalker? No way.”
“Stop being an asshole, Mason. And stop fucking using that word,” I growl, shoving him out of my personal space. Grey’s throng of friends lingers behind her, obediently up in the bleachers as she approaches me, her bright white smile lighting her stunning face.
A low whistle of appreciation escapes Paul’s lips. “Damn, Tighthead, that girl is into you? No offense.”
Shit. Fuck.
“She is way out of your league, bro,” Mason charitably points out.
Don’t I know it.
She’s gorgeous, and I’m a mutt, and Mason’s reminder pisses me off.
“Would you all just effing go away,” I demand with another shove, and he laughs, giving Grey a little wave before hefting his equipment bag over his shoulder and retreating towards the university’s field house.
“Come on, guys. Let’s give Tighthead and his girlfriend here some pri-va-cy.” The way he says it has everyone, including our coach, snickering.
“Fuck off, all of you,” I sneer, embarrassed and irritated. Several of the guys are avidly checking out Greyson, and that’s pissing me off too.
“Tsk, tsk. That’s not a very nice way to talk to your friends,” Grey calls out to me, and I hear several of my teammates laughing in the distance as Grey steps onto the playing field in those same wedge sandals she wore the day we met, her dark jean capris hugging her long legs. And are my eyes deceiving me, or is she eyeing me up with unconcealed appreciation?
“I didn’t see you smacking anyone’s ass during the match,” she teases. “That’s a tad disappointing. I thought maybe you were lying when you said you never did that.” Her eyes roam to Mason, who keeps glancing back at us as he trudges to the building.
Greyson’s keen eyes notice. “What’d he do to piss you off?”
She’s thirty feet away.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. “He was being an ass.”
Fifteen.
“Well, never mind him.”
Five feet.
She extends her hand, presenting me with a large green tea lemonade from Starbucks. “The ice melted because I couldn’t give it to you sooner. Sorry.” Perspiration slides off the plastic cup.
Shell shocked, I take it from her while she continues gushing.
“My gosh, Cal,” she breathes when she’s standing in front of me, her hands reaching up to hover over my hardened pecs like she’s about to run them up-and-down my broad chest.
I hold my breath, but she drops them back to her side.
But then…
“You are amazing! You look so incredible out there, Cal. I swear, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Moving in closer, she actually goes up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my sweat-drenched cheek. As if she couldn’t stop herself.
I watch, transfixed, when Grey licks her lips instead of wiping the sweat on her mouth off with her hand. “Wow, you smell good. Like a man.”
Jesus H Christ.
“Um, hi?” I manage, fighting the urge to blurt out, What the hell are you doing here?
“Surprise!” Grey giggles, a delighted little twinkle that tinges the apples of her cheeks a pretty pink color. “I couldn’t stay away. The temptation to show up unexpectedly was impossible to resist.” She gives me a wink and shoves my bicep, her fingers sinking into my skin and lingering far too long to be accidental.
She prattles on. “Well, I mean I could have stayed away—but I didn’t want to.”
Down in my spandex rugby pants is the telltale twitching of an impending hard-on.
Fuck.
“Grey, uh…” I tip my head to our audience. My teammates are huddled on the far side of the field, avidly watching with interest, while her sorority sisters do the same from up in the bleachers.
She glances back over her shoulder and shrugs without a care. “My friends wanted to come down here, but of course I wouldn’t let them. You’re safe from the inquisition, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Grey runs a hand through her highlighted wavy hair and gives it a shake.
It settles on her shoulder like a silky cloud, shining under the stadium lights like a halo.
Mesmerized, I stare down into her large, laughing hazel eyes, darkened with black eyeliner and coated with a heavy layer of mascara. She’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, but it’s tight, and my eyes are drawn to the smooth bronze skin in the deep V neck.
Her brown eyebrows are raised at me expectantly.
Oh shit. She wants me to say something.
“Hmm.” Her hands settle on her narrow hips. “You were much chattier when you came to my house. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just—you want the truth?”
“No, I want you to lie.” Grey rolls those brilliant eyes with a smile. “Yes, of course I want the truth.”
“I’m shocked to see you. It’s one thing for me to ambush you, but another for you to ambush me.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, we can’t stay long. I have to get that crew of misfit toys behind me back to campus. A few of them are running a 5k tomorrow, and they want to stuff themselves with pasta.” She rolls her eyes again. “They think they’re pro athletes now and want to carb load. By the way, this is one of those 5ks where you wear a fluffy tutu and get pelted with color bombs, so…”
Again with the raised eyebrow.
I can’t stand it. “I know I’m being fucking awkward, okay? Just say it.”
“You’re a little awkward.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot. “But I find you very charming.”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I mumble.
“How am I looking at you? I’m not doing anything.” Greyson laughs. “I’m standing here talking.”
She playfully gives my tricep another tap, the contact from her feather-light touch giving me goosebumps and a goddamn boner.
The tightening in my shorts has my jaw clenching and my nostrils flare. “Stop flirting.”
“Why?”
Fuck it. “Because it’s making me hard.”
Instead of being offended by the lewd comment, Greys hazel eyes leisurely skim down my body to my spandex shorts, alive with interest. The air between us crackles and sizzles.