Chapter 12
Tessa
“Oh. You don’t have to.”
He takes my pillow and my blanket out of my hands.
“I want to.” He starts forward, and I follow him.
He opens the door for me and then follows me inside and up the stairs.
When we get upstairs, you can definitely tell it’s a Saturday night.
There’s music pumping from somewhere, and there are so many girls coming and going, it’s hard to get through the hallway.
We finally make it to my door. Just before I can open it, I hear my name.
“Tessa!”
I turn to see not one but two redheads. “Hey, Faith. Hey, Felicia.” But neither of them are looking at me; they’re looking at the very recognizable and extremely good-looking soccer player next to me.
Faith flips her hair over her shoulder and gives Slater a beaming, perfect smile. “Hi, I’m Faith.”
Not to be outdone, Felicia quickly adds, “And I’m Felicia.”
My manners finally kick in, and I turn to Slater. “These are my suitemates. And this is—” I don’t get to finish my thoughts.
“Slater Thorne,” one of them says for me.
“He doesn’t need an introduction. It’s so nice to meet you,” Faith says putting out her perfectly manicured hand. Her nails are a gorgeous bright red. When Slater doesn’t say anything, Faith pushes on. “So, you’re friends with our girl, Tessa?”
“Yeah,” Slater finally says.
“Tessa, you should bring him to the party tomorrow night,” Felicia adds.
“Party?” I ask, totally confused.
Neither of them even look at me. “The party Sonia is having tomorrow night off campus.” I have literally no clue what they’re talking about or who Sonia is.
They close in on Slater, and I take a step back.
It’s only at that point that I realize he has a grip on my elbow because I don’t get far.
Faith is in the middle of explaining where the party will be when Slater turns to me.
“Tessa will be with me, so she won’t be able to make it.” Then he opens the door and holds it for me. I look back at Faith and Felicia and catch the surprised looks on their faces right before Slater all but pushes me inside my room and closes the door behind us.
“Um, so why exactly can’t I make it to this party?”
Slater looks down at me. “Did you want to attend?”
I laugh. “I have no idea what party they’re talking about and zero clues about who Sonia is. They just invited me because they wanted you to come.” He frowns, and it makes me laugh. “You didn’t have to lie to them about me being with you. I had no plans on attending anyway.”
“I wasn’t lying.”
My eyebrows lift. “I’m going to be with you tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what exactly?” I’m convinced he’s making this up.
“Sunday lunch at our place.” I stare at him, and he continues. “Whenever you’re ready to come over to the house, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“You want me to come over to the house tomorrow? With all the guys?”
He scowls. “With me.”
I study him. “Are you just making this up because you feel bad about Felicia and Faith?”
“I don’t feel bad about them.”
I try not to laugh. “I mean about the party.”
“I’m inviting you because I want you to come over. We have lunch together every Sunday afternoon; Evie comes now too.”
I scrunch my nose in confusion. “And you’re inviting me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He stares down at me and frowns. “Is everything always so complicated?”
I think about it a moment. “Generally, yes.”
He takes a breath. “I want you to come over to the house with me tomorrow for lunch.”
“See was that so hard?” I ask with a grin.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters.
I take compassion on him because I know he’s got to be exhausted. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be. Anyway, thanks for a great game and a great day. I’d love to come over to lunch tomorrow. Let me know what I can bring.”
“Just you. Is eleven too early to pick you up?”
“No, that’s perfect. Thanks.” I eye my blanket and pillow in his arms. “Oh, I’ll take those.” He hands them over. I expect him to leave, but he stands there looking down at me. “Okay, so this is where you leave,” I suggest and move over to the door.
“Do you think they’re still out there?”
“Who?” I ask.
“Those girls.”
I blink. “Those. Girls.” I stare at him. “Seriously?”
Those dark grey eyes meet mine. “What?”
“You have gorgeous girls all over you, and you want nothing to do with them?”
He scowls. “Why would I want anything to do with them?”
“I don’t know...maybe because they’re gorgeous and thin and tall and have perfect red hair that cascades down their backs and perfectly manicured nails and figures that are perfect and—”
“I’m not into any of that.”
I laugh, like—legit laugh out loud. “Right. You’re not into perfect model-looking girls?”
“No.”
I shake my head. “All right then. Well, I need to go to bed, so you need to,” I motion to the door. “Scoot.”
He opens the door but doesn’t leave. “I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way.”
“Okay sounds good.”
“Thanks for coming to my game today; I’ll see you tomorrow.” He closes the door, and I stare at it for a moment.
“That was intense.”
I whirl around, putting my hand over my heart. “Stephanie, what in the world? You scared me.”
“Well, obviously. I mean I live here, but apparently you forgot that. You were too busy drooling over that guy.”
I grin. “I was not drooling! And that guy was Slater Thorne.”
“Pretty sure you were, but whatever. Did you have a good day at the game?”
I grin. “Yes. We won, and it was fabulous.” I walk over to my bed and drop off my blanket and pillow.
“Oh, and get this. He wants me to come over to the house tomorrow.” When she doesn’t really respond, I tell her, “The house where he lives, and so does Zane Blackwood, Quint Ashwood, and Reid Marshall.”
“Are those names supposed to mean something?”
I shake my head. “Your lack of knowledge about college sports is scary.”
She laughs. “No, your obsession with them is what’s scary.”
“Do you really not know who any of those guys are?”
She smiles. “I do; I just like yanking your chain.” I throw my pillow at her. “Hey!”
“We need to go to another game together; you haven’t been to a game for a while,” I tell her.
“That’s because you found a friend that likes going to the games with you; which is great for me. I don’t have to go anymore.”
“I miss you coming to the games with us.”
She smiles. “You know I only went to like one game at the beginning of the year.”
“Yes, but what a game it was! That was the first football game of the season. But you’re too busy studying all the time to get to any games.”
“Well, I have this thing called college classes I have to attend and study for.”
I shake my head. “All right. I get it. Well, I’d love to have you come to a game soon.” I yawn. “I need to get ready for bed.”
She yawns next. “Oh great. You got me doing it now.”
“That’s because it’s almost eleven,” I remind her. I head into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. A few minutes later, I pull out my History of Civ. Book. I make it about thirty minutes before exhaustion hits me. “I’m calling it for tonight,” I tell her with a yawn. “Night.”
“Night, Tessa.”
The next morning, I manage to get a few hours of study time in before Slater texts me that he’s on his way. I close my eyes and stretch my neck. I’m in the bathroom brushing my hair when Evie texts.
Evie- wear a sports bra
I stare at my phone a moment before texting back.
Me- uh why do I need to wear a sports bra?
It takes her a minute to respond.
Evie- just trust me
“Well, that is not the least bit helpful.” I text her again.
Me- again, why do I need to wear a sports bra? I try never to wear one of those horrible contraptions.
Me- ever
Me- I have no plans on running for my life today, and that’s the only reason I would need a sports bra
Me- ???
“Come on, Evie.” I put down my phone to finish doing my hair. When I hear it ding, I look down.
Slater- I'm here
“Aw, fudgesicles.” I race over to my drawer and dig through it until I find my barely worn sports bra.
I tug it on and then find one of my Barracudas t-shirts and sweatshirts to throw on instead of the cute shirt I was going to wear.
I run out the door, only to have to run back inside and to the bathroom to grab my phone.
A quick glance shows my bestie has not texted back yet.
By the time I get outside, I’ve managed to compose myself.
..sort of. That is until I nearly run over the tall soccer player standing only a few feet from the door. I jerk to a stop. “Slater. Hi.”
He glances behind me. “Where’s the fire?”
I glance behind me as well, though I’m not really sure why. “Oh, well. Yeah, no fire. Ready?”
He blinks down at me. “You okay?”
“Of course.” I smile brightly; I think a little too brightly because he narrows his eyes at me.
“Is your truck this way?” I start towards the parking lot.
He catches up to me in seconds. As soon as we get to his truck, he opens the door for me, and I hoist myself in.
He closes my door and makes his way over to his side.
I use those few precious seconds to find my calm again.
When he climbs in, I take a deep breath and regret it instantly.
The scent of his cologne and that scent that is all him hits me hard.
I don’t know exactly what it smells like, but it reminds me of home.
..which is odd. Maybe my brother wears cologne like that?
I snort to myself because my brother could never smell as sexy as Slater Thorne does.
“You okay?” Slater asks in a deep voice.
I glance over at him. “Perfect.” He starts the drive off campus. “So, you ready for your playoff game Friday night?” He nods. “Are you nervous?”
“Nah.”
I glance over at him and grin. “Who am I kidding? The great Slater Thorne doesn’t get nervous before soccer games.”
The corner of his lips tugs up. “I used to.”
“When? When you were in elementary school?”
“Freshman year of college actually.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “Yeah. I came in with a lot of expectations, and I didn’t do too well with all that pressure.”
I think back to his first few games as a freshman. “They weren’t terrible games, and everybody understood you were just getting used to college ball. You still scored in each of your first few games, even as a freshman.”
He glances over at me in surprise. “You watched my freshman games?”
I scoff. “Of course, I did. My family bleeds Barracuda blood, remember? We love all the sports, but soccer and football are our favorites.”
He smirks. “Don’t tell Reid that.”
“Oh, I love basketball too; don’t get me wrong. I just love soccer more.”
“That’s because it’s the best sport,” he says smugly.
I don’t tell him that it’s because it’s the sport he plays.
I might have had the tiniest crush on Slater Thorne ever since I watched him highlighted in prime time when he was just a freshman in high school.
I was only in seventh grade, but I watched him play and was mesmerized.
He was considered an up and coming to watch and boy, did I watch.
I followed his career, as did my stepdad.
When he decided on FMU, my stepdad and I both celebrated.
I watched every single game of his freshman and sophomore years.
I would have watched every game of his junior year this year, but so far, it wasn’t working out for me to catch more than a few games.