Chapter 11 #2
Ha. Got her.
“What do you need, Sinclair?”
Charlotte reaches for the box, but I hold it closed. She glares, and I smile even brighter at her. “I need Ambrosia Mercer’s schedule.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes, then holds up a finger.
“One, that’s against the law and her right to privacy.
” She holds up another before blowing her bangs out of her eyes.
“Two, that sounds like a girl’s name, and when did you start caring about girls?
” She holds up a third finger. “And three, did you pick hockey yet?”
I fold her fingers down, enveloping her hand in mine as I hold her gaze. “I know, but let’s ignore that. Yes, and I don’t care about girls. And not yet—are you coming to my game this weekend?”
She gives me an exasperated look. “Yes, but I’d rather you protect your body for hockey.”
I run my hand down her face and shush her, which she snorts at, batting at me.
Then I look around to make sure no one is paying us any mind.
I lean in, and with a low voice, I say, “Just pull it up and take a picture of me with the schedule in focus.” She goes to complain, but I open the box.
“I got all your favorites. They even had the Dubai one you wanted to try.”
I can see her struggling with what is right versus what is wrong. She has worked in the Student Services office since her freshman year, and now that she’s a senior, I know she doesn’t want to lose her place. Or go to jail. But no one will know. I’d never snitch on my family.
When she licks her lips, I know I’ve got her.
We may be a family of athletes, but we sure as hell do some sketchy stuff for a sweet treat.
She quickly types the name as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. She brings in her brows. “She only has two in-person classes. Everything else is online.”
I make a face. I wonder why. “How old is she?”
She bites her lip as she looks around. “Twenty-four. She’s finishing her master’s.”
I’m finding Ambrosia and I have a lot in common. Charlotte looks up at me and glares before picking up her phone to cue me to pose. I hold the box for a prop, and she rolls her eyes before my phone dings. She snatches the box from me and then shoos me away. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I look down at the text that holds Ambrosia’s schedule, and I know the smile that takes over is downright wicked, but I see another text on my screen.
It’s from my dad, but he’s texted me from his Coach phone.
Not good.
Coach: I talked to Coach Bannard about you sitting for games that don’t matter against lower-ranked teams. He says you haven’t talked to him about it. I know you want to play, but you guaranteed you’d keep your body safe and wouldn’t play unless you had to.
I hadn’t wanted to ask because I have a plan for getting Ambrosia to come to one of my games. To do that, I need to play. I can’t tell my dad that.
Me: I’ll talk to him.
Before I can read what he has to say, I click back to Charlotte’s text and take in Ambrosia’s schedule. She really isn’t on campus at all, only two days, and I wonder why. Is she not into in-person classes? Maybe she doesn’t want to be around an ex? I wonder if I know him.
I wonder what it would sound like hearing his knees explode under the force of my hockey stick.
Well, that’s one hell of a thought.
“You have nothing to worry about, Char,” I say with a wink. “But Ambrosia sure does.”
Charlotte lets out a groan, Dubai chocolate falling from her lips, and I laugh.
Because I’m not sure if she’s groaning in fear for Ambrosia, or from how good the cookie is. I lean over the desk and kiss her forehead, though she bats me away with the widest grin.
I wink as I head out, looking down at my phone to read her classes. She has in-person on Tuesday and Thursday, which means I only have a day to put my plan in the works. I get a notification that Ambrosia is on her messaging app, so I pull it up quickly.
Me: Question.
AmbrosiaMercer: Shocking. Thought you’d tell me the history of taping a hockey stick.
I snort. Man, I like her.
Me: I can if you’d like.
AmbrosiaMercer: I’ll pass. What’s the question?
Me: I have a friend.
AmbrosiaMercer: Aww, good for you. I hope you play nicely.
Me: You sure are sarcastic.
AmbrosiaMercer: Wow, really? I didn’t know.
I have that goofy smile on my face. Like a heartsick teenager with my first crush.
I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to know everything.
She gives me these soul-deep fluttering feelings.
It’s even better than when I saw a pair of tits for the first time at thirteen.
A newly teenage boy doesn’t forget that feeling, but talking to Ambrosia makes me feel that times one hundred.
Goofy grin in full force, I quickly type back.
Me: He said he never sees you on campus.
AmbrosiaMercer: What campus?
Me: Bellevue.
AmbrosiaMercer: How does he know I go there?
Me: It’s in your profile, dork.
AmbrosiaMercer: Oh. Why is he looking for me?
Me: He says you’re the prettiest girl in the world and has been looking for you.
AmbrosiaMercer: Hm, tell him pretty words don’t do shit for me, and also that I’m good. Not interested.
Me: You don’t know him.
AmbrosiaMercer: I know his type, and I’m good.
Her and this damn type shit. I know she knows it’s me. She has to, but I won’t say a word. This is my only link to her, and I’m not giving it up.
Me: I don’t think he agrees, but he’s also wondering why he never sees you at parties.
AmbrosiaMercer: He seems obsessed.
Me: Oh, totally.
AmbrosiaMercer: Should I be worried?
I think back to what I told Charlotte, and all I can do is grin.
Me: Nah, I’ll protect you.
AmbrosiaMercer: This is feeling very Misery. Number one fan tying me to a bed and breaking my knees.
Blood rushes to my cock, and the most wicked grin comes over my face.
Me: I mean, if I’m the one tying you to a bed, you’ll be screaming, but not from me taking out your knees. Tho, I will be between them.
AmbrosiaMercer: Well, look at that. The block button is looking really good.
Me: Man, you’re ruthless.
AmbrosiaMercer: And you’re gross.
Me: Or I was trying to be flirty.
AmbrosiaMercer: Fell flat, my guy.
Me: Shit.
Me: Let’s move on, and you tell me why no one ever sees you anywhere.
She types a few times, deleting and retyping before, finally, her words fill my screen.
AmbrosiaMercer: I’m a homebody, and the last time I went out, I got the call my dad passed away.
A hollow sensation burns in my chest as I read her words, feeling the pain in each of them.
Me: That fucking sucks.
AmbrosiaMercer: Yeah, kind of ruined my college experience. Now, I just work and hang out at the house.
Me: I’d love to come hang with you.
AmbrosiaMercer: I wonder what happens if I hit the block button?
I can’t help but snort as I shake my head.
Fuck, she keeps me on my toes. I want to be around her just to see her grin as she cuts me down or puts me in my place.
I wasn’t kidding at The Penalty Perk. I plan to show her I’m not who she thinks I am.
I mean, maybe I am, or was… Wow, that thought has me reeling.
This weird clenching grips my stomach as I realize maybe it’s time to be more.
A better guy.
With a better reputation.
With a clear-cut idea of what I want.
Of who I am.
Shit. Is her theory right?
Ignoring that final thought, I write her.
Me: You should ignore that button because I think you might enjoy me.
AmbrosiaMercer: Maybe, but I’ve talked to guys like you and your friend. I know the score. You get what you want, and then I’m left to clean up the mess left behind.
Me: Hmm, interesting theory. Have you heard the one that says, if they want to, they will?
AmbrosiaMercer: I have.
Me: Cool. Get ready to live it firsthand.
AmbrosiaMercer: Fuck.