Chapter 18
The blue team won, and Hart, Nat, and I didn’t let David and Weston hear the end of it on the ride to a beachside bar.
“You got lucky,” David said with an amused glint in his eyes.
“And you got distracted,” Weston teased. Their gazes met in the rearview for a second, and I would have given away my lecture notes for free just to understand what passed between them. Whatever did resulted in red on David’s neck, and a muffled laugh from Weston’s lips.
I had piled into David’s car after the game because Haven had found herself deep in conversation with Rissa. My best friend swatted me away with her hand behind her back when I mentioned needing a ride to the bar, where almost everyone agreed to meet up after.
My phone finally buzzed with a text from her as we were pulling up into the bar’s parking lot:
Haven
She wants surfing lessons! She’s beautiful and sweet, and she wants me to teach her how to surf.
Sorry I couldn’t drive you! I got tunnel vision.
No worries! I get it. Are you coming to the restaurant?
Haven
Yes…
Because she’ll be here?
Haven
…I love you. See you soon!
I chewed on my bottom lip, trying not to laugh out loud. Haven hadn’t gone on a date in ages. From experience, seeing her fall for someone was one of the sweetest things ever. I looked forward to early-morning humming and heart-shaped sugar cookies for dessert.
“I think the shortest person should be the designated middle seater,” Hart was complaining. Seeing them shoved in the tight space was both comical and impressive.
“Exactly,” Weston agreed, voice low from distraction as he typed something on his phone. “So, we’re right on track.”
“I’m not shorter than you,” Hart said before Nat could point it out.
“You are,” Nat promised.
“We get a full write-up of everything from body fat to shoe size,” Weston reminded him. “You’re the shortest.”
“I’d been slouching that day,” Hart tried.
“You slouch every day,” Weston countered.
“Alright.” David put the car in park. “I’m too tired to listen to you all go back and forth. Get out of my car.”
“Tired? You barely broke a sweat today,” Hart muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from Weston and a smile from Nat.
They followed David’s order regardless, continuing their disagreement outside.
Before I could join them, David made a low hum of disapproval and reached over to pull my door shut.
I swallowed at his large arm and how good it looked stretched over me.
“Not you,” he said simply as he leaned back into his seat.
I pressed my lips together to assure my mouth wasn’t agape. The guys glanced back at us, curious about our delay. But Weston said something that pulled their attention to the restaurant. Hart was the only one to give us one more glance before disappearing inside with the others.
I frowned at David. “What was that for?”
“Just because we’re new and I’m letting another guy have a shot, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t show some bouts of selfishness,” he explained. “If I were really into you, I’d want you to myself any chance I’d get.”
“Right…” I couldn’t feel my face.
“So, how are we playing this?” he asked. “What should we practice?”
I shook my head, trying to think of anything besides his lips on mine. “Just… being near each other. And nice. Being nice to each other.”
He smiled. “Low-hanging fruit.”
“I’ll say,” I agreed.
“Come here?” He motioned with his finger for me to move closer.
I blinked, mouth going dry. “What?”
“Come here.”
Some of my natural defiance finally leaked back into my veins, thank god. I managed a, “If you want something, you come to me. I’m not going to follow your orders just cause we’re supposedly a couple.”
David shook his head, but disapproval was nowhere in sight. He leaned over the console and took my chin between his fingers.
“So, a couple more of my teammates have shown up and just parked across the way,” he explained.
When I tried to look, he made a low noise of disapproval.
“Look at me like you wish we didn’t have to be here,” he said. “Like you’re asking to go back to my place.”
“I told you.” It took maximum effort to speak through all the buzzing heat between my thighs. “I’m not blindly following your lead. That’s not the kind of person I’ve ever been in relationships.”
“Fine.” He took a breath, but there weren’t any echoes of annoyance. Instead, David seemed pleased. “Who would you be?”
“I’d be the girl you’d beg to take home.”
The smile that spread across his lips made the ache in my chest reach a level of unbearable I didn’t know I could survive.
“So, do it. Make me look like I’m begging,” he encouraged. “Sell it.”
I closed the distance, my nose brushing against his.
David took a breath but didn’t let it out.
We hadn’t been this close since our kiss.
We hadn’t even talked about our kiss. All the weight threatened to spill over now.
His gaze flickered to my mouth, and I knew without a doubt he wanted to do it again just as much as I did.
The confirmation left me with more questions.
The biggest question was which one of us would be the first to officially break.
Did it matter who held out when the reward would be complete and utter relief?
“You’ve thought of me since then, haven’t you?” I whispered. My voice was steady, leaning on the solid post that was seduction.
“Since…?” he prompted, needing me to say.
“Since our kiss.”
David swallowed but showed no other sign of arousal. “Hardly.”
“Liar.” My lips almost touched his, but not quite. We didn’t need to kiss to prove we were dating. “You’ve thought of it like I have.”
His jaw ticked, but he offered a half-shrug. “I guess.”
“Did you do it in bed? Like me?”
The red was back, creeping up his cheeks, and I went for broke.
“Touch yourself to it like me?” I asked.
He let out a heavy breath, his body nearly shivering at my words. “Are you fucking serious?”
I smiled and shook my head. “I don’t know. All I know is I’m making you beg for it.”
“That’s not…you’re…” It was rare to render David speechless. I reveled in the ability to do so while being so off-kilter. Once my gaze flickered down to his sweats and I saw a nicely hardened outline, we both knew denial would do him no favors.
“So… beg.” I wrapped my hand around his wrist, holding him in place where he still gripped my chin.
“Please,” he whispered, eyes soft with desperation a woman could only dream of.
For a second, I froze, confused whether this was still the game or if we’d crossed some line. But more of his teammates were showing up outside. And the only reason he held me back was to play this up. David wasn’t actually asking to be taken home.
“No,” I said, equally directed to myself as it was to him.
I pulled away from his grasp and opened the door.
He didn’t stop me this time. Stepping outside into the crisp air calmed the heat of my skin.
The few teammates who had been curiously watching the exchange quickly turned away, pretending to have no interest in their tight end’s love life.
I rubbed my fingers across my lips as I started up the wooden stairs to the bar.
Any doubt of successfully feigning attraction was decimated.
I was in my third game of pool with Weston and Hart when Haven showed up. She’d waved at me from the bar, where she claimed a spot by Nat, Rissa, and David. I smiled back, trying my best not to get distracted by my fake boyfriend and his habit of watching me like I was the only person in the room.
“You’re scary good at this,” Hart said after my turn. He’d tried the whole, ‘want me to show you how to hit the ball’ thing. I ended up coaching him on his form after they witnessed what I could do. All three times, I’d beaten them in a landslide.
“And we most definitely suck.” Weston laughed when Hart missed an easy shot, once more cementing me as the winner. “You shouldn’t have bet.”
“We shouldn’t have,” Hart corrected as he dug in his pocket to fork up the cash.
“I haven’t won yet.” I smiled as I got into position for my last shot.
“Well, let’s have it.” Hart gestured with dollar bills, signaling me to seal the deal. Once I did it with ease, Weston whistled. Hart just smiled at me indulgently. He held out the cash, but when I reached for it, he kept it out of reach.
“What’s exactly going on with you and David?” he asked as he held my winnings hostage.
“Hart,” Weston warned in a singsong voice as he placed his cue back on the rack.
“What exactly do you think’s going on with David and me?
” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to mask the heavy thumping of my heart.
Was he somehow onto us? What if David and I didn’t look as desperate as it all felt?
Was that more or less embarrassing than actually feeling desperate for David?
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s cute,” Hart said. I smiled at how genuine the assessment sounded.
Weston snatched the money out of Hart’s hands and offered it to me. “One more round? I need a little extra cash for the bar.”
“You need cash for the bar?” I laughed and made a show of counting out my earnings.
Weston smiled and shrugged. “I left my cards at home. Trying to curb spending habits.”
“You’re on,” I said, and then, to Hart, “You really think we’re cute?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Not as cute as you and I could be, but there’s still potential there.”
“Has nearly four seasons of NCAA football taught you nothing? You know if you want something someone else has, you shouldn’t talk up the opponent, right?” Weston gestured over his shoulder toward David.
“I’m not so insecure that I have to trash-talk someone behind their back.” Hart shrugged. The confidence was sexy, and if I weren’t so entangled with a guy I’ve known since middle school, I may have let him pretend to teach me about form this round.
“But I also know when to bow out gracefully,” Hart directed that statement to me.
My cheeks burned, but before I could comment, a hand pressed on my lower back.
“You okay?” David asked me, but his gaze was on Hart. The hardness there, though manufactured, was flattering.
“Are you?” Hart asked with a teasing smile. David’s glare didn’t bother him for a second.
“Great.” I waved my money back and forth. “I’m winning.”
“I see.” David pulled his gaze from Hart and onto me. His expression softened noticeably. My stomach fluttered when he hooked two fingers around my belt loop. Hart’s gaze flickered there for a second, and his brow twitched, a micro-expression of annoyance.
“As to be expected,” David continued. “Take a break and come sit with me.”
“She’s a bit busy,” Hart said, voice still lighthearted, even though the look in his eyes wasn’t.
“Not when it comes to me.” David met his friend’s gaze with a look of warning. His fake jealousy did wonders for his jawline. And it was dangerous for my growing desire.
“I’m… going one more round with Weston,” I said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Actually…” Weston had his phone out, texting someone with intense focus. “I think I’m out of here.”
“You’re leaving?” Hart frowned, worried.
“Yeah.” Weston looked up at us and tried not to smile too much as he said, “I need to pick something up.”
“For you know who?” David asked with a brow raised. Hart and I exchanged looks since neither of us had a clue what was going on. “Congrats.”
“Shut up,” Weston told David, allowing himself to smile this time. “And you two, be civil. Don’t scare Yara away. You’re lucky she’s talking to either of you.”
I smiled, liking this quarterback more and more. We said our goodbyes, and Weston made me promise to let him have another match later.
With Weston gone, the tension was back—mostly on David’s end. After a beat, Hart simply smiled and said, “Very cute. I really can’t complain.”
While David frowned in confusion, I laughed. As far as I was concerned, Hart’s observation was a seal of approval regarding the validity of our “relationship.”