19. Felix
FELIX
Saturday after practice, some of the guys end up at our house.
Brogan and Archer show up, then some freshmen, including Armstrong.
I think he and Bethany are done. Teddy said she was at the party last night with some baseball guy.
I never even saw her, which is a first. I usually have a radar that points me directly to her.
It reads something like: Warning—Danger ahead!
But last night the only person I remember is Dahlia.
That kiss was…well, fuck, it was hot. It might have been her first kiss, but in a weird way, it felt like mine too. Or at least the first real kiss in a long, long time. When’s the last time I kissed a girl without taking off her clothes? Sadly, I can’t remember.
I could have just kissed her for hours. I seriously considered it, but continuing to kiss her complicates things in a way I’m not ready to act on. Being someone’s first kiss is one thing, but anything beyond that feels too heavy for our agreement.
By eight o’clock, my house is filled with teammates and some of their girlfriends. My sisters are over too. Most people are drinking, but it’s calm and casual.
I haven’t talked to Dahlia all day, which isn’t odd. We’ve gone a day or two between texting since we started hanging out, but as I look around my house at everyone laughing and having a good time, I keep wondering what she’s doing.
I finally give in and hit her up.
Me
What are you doing?
Hot Stuff
Jane and I just left Taco Bell.
I laugh at her exaggerated use of emojis.
Me
Tacos sound great. Now I’m hungry.
Hot Stuff
Oh, they were delicious. What are you up to tonight?
Me
Not much. Want to see for yourself what a night-in looks like? Fair warning, half my team is here. But it’s chill.
Hot Stuff
I’d love to. Is it okay if I bring Jane?
Me
Of course.
Hot Stuff
Right. I forgot. The more hot girls, the merrier.
Me
Exactly!
Twenty minutes later, she and Jane walk through the front door.
Lucas is overly excited to see Jane. He scoots over, directing people to move, so she can sit next to him on the couch.
Dahlia walks over to me, swinging a bag in her hand and wearing a flirty smile that looks like the fun kind of trouble.
“I brought you my extra tacos.” She holds up the bag in front of me and the smell hits my nose.
An involuntary groan slips out. I reach for it, and she lifts it just out of reach, taunting me.
“Don’t tease me, hot stuff. I would do very bad things for those tacos right now.”
She loves pushing my buttons. Little does she know, she pushes most of them without even trying. Everything about her just hits a little different. But right now, as she purposely tries to get a reaction out of me, I’m more than happy to oblige.
I lunge, but instead of going for the bag, I loop an arm around her waist and bring her down onto my lap. She giggles and squeals, still holding the bag as far away from me as possible.
“You’re in trouble now.” I tickle her sides and she immediately brings her elbows closer to try to stop me.
“You didn’t say the magic word.” She’s squirming on my lap, which does not go unnoticed by my dick.
“Is the magic word tacos?” I ask.
“No.”
My fingers dance up her rib cage again. “Is it Felix Walters is a god among men?”
She laughs. “That’s not one word.”
“I know, but it was worth a shot. Plus, I just wanted to throw it out there, so you’d know it was okay if you were feeling that too.”
“Your ego is impressive.”
“All of me is impressive,” I say before I can think better of it.
She just giggles.
“Please, hot stuff, may I have your leftover tacos?”
She brings the bag closer. “Was that so hard?”
Right now, everything about me is hard. Thankfully, this time, I stop the words before they leave my lips.
She starts to get up, but I curl an arm around her waist and shift, so she’s sitting on my leg while I set the bag on the other. There are three tacos inside, which makes me wonder how many she ordered in total.
“How was practice?” I ask, right before I take a bite out of the first one.
The guys have noticed my food and I have to kick several of them away when they try to steal one of my precious tacos.
“It was good. I shot thirty-six on nine holes.”
“That’s awesome.” I lift one hand in a fist, and she bumps her wrist against mine.
“Thanks. How was yours? Don’t you have a game coming up soon?”
“First one is next weekend,” I reply. “Are you coming to cheer me on?”
“Maybe. I have a tournament Friday and Saturday at Gold Canyon. What time is your game?”
“I couldn’t tell you, but it’s probably online.”
“It’s probably online?” She arches a brow and digs out her phone. A few taps later, she says, “Eight o’clock. I should be back by then.”
“Sweet.” I lift up my wrist again, and she taps it with a laugh.
It’s easy to be with Dahlia. Even easier to flirt and play.
Sometimes, like last night when I walked her home, I have to rein myself in and be careful about how far I take things so I don’t lead her on.
And sometimes, like right now, I just want to say fuck it.
I like chilling with her. Why does it have to be more complicated than that?
I crumple up the last taco wrapper and toss it in the bag, then sit back with a satisfied moan. “Thank you. Best second dinner I’ve ever had.”
I get another laugh out of her, but I can barely hear it over the guys screaming at the PlayStation.
“Wanna see my room so you can knock another thing off that list of yours?” I already told her what it looked like, but it’s hard to talk to her out here.
“Oh.” She sounds surprised by my offer. “Yeah.”
Stella looks over as we stand and start for my room. “Hey, no stealing her away. I need to talk to Dahlia.”
“You do?” Dahlia asks, a faint smile pulling at her lips.
“Yeah. Holly and I wanted to see if you and your friends wanted to sit with us at the game next weekend?” She holds up both hands. One pretends to block Holly from view and the other points in her direction. “This one is making us go super early, so we get the best seats.”
“Yeah, that would be great,” Dahlia says, glancing at me like she isn’t sure if it was the right thing to say.
“All settled?” I ask my sister.
She aims a pleased smile back at me. “If I say no, are you going to let her hang out with us instead of dragging her to your room?”
“Drag?” I cock a brow. “As if.”
I take a couple steps away, and when Dahlia doesn’t follow, I lean forward, taking her arm and dragging her with me toward my room to the sound of laughter from my sisters and teammates. Fuckers.
I shut us inside and then shake my head at her. “Thanks a lot, fake girlfriend. They think I’ve got you in here against your will.”
Her soft giggles fade as her eyes leave mine to scan the room. “No one would ever look at the two of us and think that.”
I don’t like that assessment of us, but before I can find the right words to voice it, she’s walking up to the infamous poster of my face. It’s large and hangs on the wall above my desk. And since there isn’t much else to look at it in here, there’s really no missing it.
Her delicate fingers rest on the white wall next to the poster. She glances back over her shoulder at me. “It really is a great photo of you.”
“Thanks.” I plop down on my bed. Dahlia continues to walk around the room, taking in every detail like she’s analyzing it for hidden clues. She holds up an unopened bag of black licorice. “And I was just starting to like you. Black licorice, really?”
“Oooh. I forgot about those. Toss that here.”
She does and then comes to sit on the edge of the bed, still wearing a disgusted look over my candy preference.
I tear open the bag and pluck one out. I rip off a piece with my teeth and then shake it at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t judge you for the awful EDM music you like.”
“That was Robby’s music, not mine.”
“Uh-huh. I saw your sick dance moves. That was not the first time you’ve listened to house music and got your groove on.”
She laughs quietly and smiles at me. “Black licorice is gross.”
“Untrue. Plus, it’s lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Yep. I’ve been eating it before every game for as long as I can remember.”
“Your pre-game meal includes candy?” She looks at me with this sassy, disbelieving look on her face that makes me smile bigger. I really like having her here in my space.
“Not a lot of candy. Black licorice should be savored, not devoured.” I eat another chunk. “One or two vines the night before.”
“How did that become your pre-game ritual?” she asks, staring at me like she’s riveted by the backstory. I’m not sure anyone’s asked me before.
“In high school, we’d stop at this gas station across from the school before away games and load up on junk food and snacks for the bus ride.”
“Super idea.” She laughs again.
“Young and dumb, but I guess we had stomachs of steel. Anyway, one day I grabbed a bag of black licorice and ended up having a great game. I threw over six hundred yards and ran in two touchdowns myself. It was just one of those rare, epic nights.” I shake the licorice at her again. “All thanks to black licorice.”
“Sure. It had nothing to do with your hard work and talent.”
“What’s your pre-tournament ritual?”
“I don’t really have one,” she says. “I guess I follow the same warm-up routine.”
“That definitely doesn’t count.” I sit up straighter and set the bag of licorice aside. “There has to be something you do, no matter how small or silly, to bring you luck before you play.”
“So, you admit it’s silly to think black licorice is responsible for your game performance?”
“I absolutely did not admit that. Come on, you don’t have any lucky charms?”
“I really don’t think so,” she says, glancing up through her thick, black lashes. “Is that strange? Am I the weird one here? I have rituals, but nothing like a special food I have to eat or a rabbit’s foot I carry in my pocket.”
“You’re not weird. Just obviously less superstitious than me.”
She makes a soft noise like a hum, then her gaze circles the room again. “I like it, and you described it really well. Right down to the laundry basket full of clothes.”
“I don’t spend a lot of time in here.” Although now that the season is starting, I will be here more than I have been.
I don’t party at all during the week when we have a game the following weekend.
I’ll kick back on Saturday nights after we play, but the other six days, I’m completely focused on football.
“I spend so much time in my room,” she says. “I always have. My parents used to joke and say I locked myself in my dungeon for days at a time.”
“I get bored by myself.”
Her lips part, like she’s about to hit me with some smart-ass comment about boring myself, so I lunge for her. My arms circle her waist and my fingers tickle her sides as I bring her down on top of me.
“So not fair.” She wriggles and squirms.
I relent, but keep her close. She glances up at me and the smile on her face dims slowly as our gazes lock. Her chest rises and falls as she catches her breath. I try, and fail, not to look at her lips. Soft and pink and begging to be kissed.
She shifts slightly off me but doesn’t look away. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
“I hadn’t quite decided,” I admit. I know I shouldn’t. It complicates things and that’s the last thing either of us needs.
“But you want to.” Her brows pull together, like she’s questioning her own assessment of the situation.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you.”
She sits up now and adjusts her ponytail by pulling on the loose strands with both hands. “That can absolutely not be true.”
“It absolutely is. And you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” I smile as I think back on it. I couldn’t decide if she was repulsed or intimidated by me. Sometimes I’m still not sure her feelings don’t toe the line between the two.
“I was dumbstruck. I’ve never been able to talk to guys, but it’s worse with you.”
“You don’t seem that nervous around me now.”
“That’s because I’ve already done all the most embarrassing things I can imagine in front of you.”
I laugh lightly and tug on the end of her hair. I like it up and out of her face, where she can’t hide behind it.
“I’m still nervous around you, though,” she says. “Just not quite as bad. Like I don’t feel like I want to throw up.”
She no longer wants to vomit when she’s around me, as in, there was a time she did feel that way? It’s weird progress, but I guess I’ll take it.