Chapter Five Gavin
Chapter Five
Gavin
Football is my life. It keeps me going when times are tough, and the game exhilarates me like nothing else. I feel whole out on the field, playing with my teammates, guys I know and love and trust. We’re like family, and I count on them more than even my actual family, though that’s not saying much. I’m an only child and have a strained relationship with my parents. My dad has controlled me my entire life, and he hates that he can’t tell me what to do any longer, though he knows just what to say to get into my head and stay there.
The miserable son of a bitch still has the power to make my life a living hell. My mother does nothing to stop him either. She doesn’t say much at all. He keeps her under his thumb just like he’s done to me until I got into college. Escaping our house helped me breathe easier, but he still has the power to get into my mind and fuck with my self-esteem. I’ve gotten better at shutting him out over the years, but he still sneaks in here and there. And I hate it.
Otherwise, I’ve got my head on straight. My focus is 100 percent football. Okay, 95 percent football and 5 percent school. I want to play professionally. I’m a business major, but I chose that because it’s easy. I’m good at math—I’m interested in economics and all that shit—but that isn’t what I really want to do.
Football. That’s my plan. The NFL. I can see it in my dreams. Can practically taste it, I’m so close, but things could change. For all I know, we could have a shit season—
No. I can’t let any negative thoughts crowd my brain. I need to stay focused. Manifest that shit and make it happen.
But there’s only one distraction. One person I’d consider tossing everything aside for if we could guarantee we’d run away together and no one else would have to know. And it’s the statuesque redhead standing within ten feet of me, wearing a pair of denim cutoffs that are criminally short and a tank top that shows off the perfect curve of her amazing tits.
Sienna Cooper.
I grimace the moment I think of her last name because that’s what her older brother goes by. Everyone calls him Coop. Even his parents and sister. Hell, most of the time I don’t even remember what his first name is. Only when I see the official team roster do I ever recall.
She briefly glances in my direction, looking away the moment our gazes lock. I stare at her, those long legs and those damn denim shorts. All the memories come back when I see them. Of her draped over me and my hands all over her. Inside her. The scent of her pussy still lingers in my mind because I was a sick fuck who didn’t wash his hands for hours after our singular hot encounter.
The hottest moment of my life, and we didn’t even fuck. I figured I’d idealized the moment in my brain and I feel that way because we never did the actual deed. It could’ve been awful. She could’ve turned into a nightmare. A lousy fuck turned into an overpossessive woman who might try to control my life. I don’t need it.
Who am I kidding? I know Sienna well enough that I’m confident she wouldn’t act like that. I just tell myself those kinds of things to make me feel better.
But damn it, she haunts my dreams and makes me crazy with lust. I can’t remember the last time I fucked some random chick. It’s been forever, and most of the time the ones I do choose don’t resemble her at all because I don’t want the reminder. And look, I have sex with other women on occasion while I assume she has sex with other men, because we’re not together. We never have been and most likely never will be. Pretty sure she’s still interested in me, though she always keeps her distance.
I’m interested in her too. It’s like I can’t help myself.
I come from a fucked-up family that Sienna doesn’t need to be subjected to. While she comes from a set of dream parents who are supportive and wonderful. They’re always there for their kids, while I’m over here still trying to get out from underneath my father’s thumb. His kind of attention isn’t what I want. Even my mom avoids him as much as possible, and she married the man.
“Who’s the chick with Sienna?” I ask Coop once he calls me over and hands me a beer. I settle into the couch next to him, not surprised at all when it’s our friend Frank Dollar who informs me who she is.
“Our new roommate, Everleigh,” he announces proudly.
Coop and I share a look, and I get what my friend is trying to tell me while not speaking a word. “You into her, Dollar?”
“Sort of.” Frank shrugs, trying to play it off while Coop coughs the word bullshit into his hand.
“Is she cool?” I am specifically addressing Coop because I don’t trust Frank’s assessment of her. He’s into her; it’s obvious.
“I don’t think she realizes who we are exactly—” Coop starts, but Frank interrupts him.
“She knows we play football.”
“But I don’t think she gets what we’re about,” Coop continues. “Damn, I sound like a conceited asshole. I already said all this to Sienna, but she agreed with me.”
“I agree with you too.” I like that Sienna and I think the same. Jesus, I feel like I have a middle school crush. “She doesn’t realize the impact we have on campus, right?”
“Right.” Coop nods.
As in, she doesn’t understand that we’re the most popular football team UC Santa Mira has ever had in the history of the school. We’re not just popular—we’re also national champions. Minus last year, damn it. We’re winning it this year. We have to. The coaches, the team, my fucking father—they expect nothing less.
“You don’t think she’ll be a problem?” I don’t know who let the chicks who are currently roaming around into the house because we all know them—or of them, at the very least. They’re fans. Groupies. Whatever you want to call them. Women who are willing to toss all self-esteem aside and give their all to snag one of us for good.
I’m not interested. I don’t think any of us are, save for Nico, who’s currently laying on the charm with one of them. But that asshole—he’s one of my best friends; I’m allowed to call him that—flirts with any female he meets. It’s an issue.
“Nah. She seems cool.” Coop inclines his head toward his sister and new roommate. “Sienna likes her.”
“Sienna likes everyone,” I grumble, because it’s true. With the exception of me.
“She doesn’t like you much.” Coop slaps the back of my head, and that’s all it takes. I leap to my feet, giving him the finger before I head for the kitchen.
I’m starving, and I have a feeling I can find something to eat. At the very least, find some chips or crackers, and then we can order a couple of pizzas. Though that’s the last thing we should be eating as we get ready for football season. I need to watch what I eat if I want to get shredded.
Ah, fuck it. We only live once.
I’m rummaging around in the pantry when I feel a presence behind me. More like I smell her. I’d recognize that scent anywhere. I used to think it was her perfume, but I realized that it’s her shampoo. She smells like a tropical beach.
“What are you doing?” Her soft voice wraps around me, and I pause in my search, glancing over my shoulder to find Sienna standing there, watching me with an unreadable expression on her face.
“Looking for something to eat.” I snag a box of Cheez-Its and turn to face her, popping the top of the box open and grabbing a handful of crackers before I shove them into my mouth.
She makes a face like I disgust her, which—not gonna lie—kinda hurts. “Cheez-Its for dinner, Gavin? That’s a poor choice.”
“I agree. Definitely need a full-blown meal. Want to order pizza for everyone?” I ask after I swallow.
She slowly shakes her head. “Shouldn’t you be eating lean fish or chicken or whatever? No fats, no carbs, nothing but protein?”
Sienna is absolutely correct. “That’s boring.”
I exit the pantry with the box still in my hand, and she follows after me, standing on the other side of the kitchen island like she needs the distance, which makes sense, considering we’ve been keeping our distance from each other for a long time. Almost two entire years, which is wild to think.
Don’t get me wrong, we’ve talked to each other. Our group is so small, we can’t always avoid each other. I’m polite to her and she’s polite to me, but I always felt something ... simmering between us. Each time we get close. Like now, for instance. I can feel it. I’m drawn to her. Eager to stare at her face and listen to her voice. Watch her mouth move, her eyes light up.
Chemistry. That’s what we’ve got. The air is charged every time we’re in the same room together. I set the cracker box on the counter, then curl my fingers into my palms. Reminding myself that I’m wasting my time. This woman isn’t interested in me. Not like that.
She remains quiet, watching me shovel crackers in my mouth, her gaze still disapproving. The sound of her long-suffering sigh is what pushes me over the edge.
“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” I ask her, my voice weary. Because damn it, I am weary. Our situation exhausts me. I don’t know what she wants, but then again, I don’t know exactly what I want either.
Meaning whichever direction we take, we’re fucked.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and Gavin ... I’m tired of trying to avoid you all the time.” Her voice is soft, and she keeps her gaze downcast, as if she’s afraid to look at me.
“You are?” I sound like an idiot.
Sienna nods, her thick auburn hair sliding past her shoulders. She has soft hair. Silky. And it smells like heaven. “I’ve been mean to you for ... years.”
I snort, reach for my beer, and take a couple of swallows. Wishing I had something stronger to drink. “You aren’t that mean, Freckles.”
She jerks her head up, her mouth turned downward. “What did you call me?”
“Freckles.” I shrug, wondering if I stepped too far. “You’ve got a lot of them. It’s an obvious nickname.”
That frown doesn’t budge. “You guys usually call me Annie.”
Annie. For Little Orphan Annie, which I always thought was dumb. Someone came up with the nickname—I don’t know who—but Nico ran with it. Though I haven’t heard him say that in a while.
“I don’t think I’ve ever called you Annie in my life,” I tell her.
“You’re right.” The frown fades, replaced with the tiniest smile. “You haven’t.”
Pushing the cracker box out of the way, I lean across the island like I’m trying to get closer to her, and hey, maybe I am. “You’ve been busy, Sienna.”
“I have.” She nods.
“And I’ve been busy too. I never thought you were purposely ignoring me.” Lies. All lies. Since that night in her dorm room when she was a sweet little drunk freshman and I kissed her and touched her like I wanted to fuck her—news flash, I did—I’ve tried to stay away from her out of respect for her feelings. I’m not outwardly rude, because I like the girl far too much, but I did my best to keep my distance because, damn it, I’m a gentleman.
Despite the fact that all I can think about is defiling her in every way possible every time I’m near her, I am a gentleman who stays away. I’m not about to corrupt her with a few nights of hot and heavy sex because, knowing me, that’s as long as it’ll last. I can’t commit. I’m that asshole who refuses to be in a relationship. The ones I’ve witnessed—mainly my parents’—are a mess. It’s better to be alone. I don’t need anyone.
Not really.
“Oh. Well, I definitely thought you were ignoring me.” Her voice is like a song, and her smile is extra sweet. “But that’s okay. I was ignoring you too. It’s just ...”
“Easier?” I offer when she doesn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes.” She nods. “Easier.”
“I say we call a truce.”
“Were we ever fighting, Gavin?”
I like it when she says my name. Everyone calls me Gav or QB or Captain, and I don’t mind. But Sienna never really calls me anything but Gavin. With the exception of that night when she got so drunk and started calling me Gav. There had been sarcasm in her tone, though. Almost as if she hated calling me that.
I don’t know. My biggest issue with Sienna is I can never quite figure her out. She’s like a puzzle I can’t solve—no matter how many times I try to, all I want is more.
More time with her. More time talking to her. Looking at her. If I finally gave in to my urges, would I figure her out? Would my curiosity be satiated and I could move on? I want to believe that’s all it would take, but I don’t know. There’s something about her that’s ...
Addicting.
“No, we weren’t fighting,” I answer when I realize I haven’t said anything. “But I think we could stand a do-over.”
“A restart?” she suggests.
“Exactly.” I stretch my arm out. “Shake on it?”
She drops her gaze to my hand before looking at me again, those velvety brown eyes drinking me in. Her face is striking. I remember what those lush lips tasted like. How soft her cheeks were. How soft she was everywhere. The subtle freckles that are sprinkled across her nose and how more appear during the summer.
“I don’t know, Gavin.” Her voice is cautious. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to pretend that you don’t exist.”
The pain her statement brings me is crushing. I drop my hand and push away from the island, curling my arms in front of me and going into pure defensive mode. I hate acting like an asshole, and I try my best to be the good guy in all situations, but sometimes my true nature comes barreling out as if I can’t help myself.
“We can keep up the pretense, then, if you’d like,” I snap, feeling like a dick the moment that the words leave my mouth.
Another pained sigh leaves her, and she rounds the island until she’s standing in front of me, holding out her hand. “Fine. Let’s be friends.”
Her voice is like a dare. A challenge that I’m eager to accept.
We shake on it, and I keep my grip gentle while she tries to strangle my hand with her fingers. Her touch is electric, even when she’s trying to hurt me. I can’t help but want to keep holding her hand, but she breaks free of my grip, taking a step back like she needs the space, and I notice the way her chest rises and falls rapidly. Like she’s out of breath. And when I lift my gaze to find her almost glaring at me, I can’t help but smile. She probably regrets making this agreement with me. I know I do.
“Don’t think you can try anything with me, Gavin. Just because we’re friends now doesn’t mean I want to be president of your fan club,” she retorts.
I burst out laughing. “That’s too bad. I had a T-shirt made for you and everything. It says Gavin’s number one fan across the front. What do you think? Would you wear it for me on game day?”
She gives me the finger and exits the kitchen without another word, her head held high.
This girl—no, this woman —is a bit of a menace. But only when it comes to me.