Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
“Happy four-month anniversary!” Donna says, handing me a box of Red Hots wrapped with a bow when she greets me before our first period class.
She’s wearing her cheerleader uniform—a short white skirt with a crimson stripe around the trim and a matching sweater that clings to her figure, emblazoned with the Titans symbol. Also red hot. I may be biased, but she’s the prettiest girl on the squad.
“Thanks,” I say, a little stymied to be celebrating four months. Not that I’m unhappy about it—quite the opposite. I think I’m in love with Donna and damn close to saying it. It’s just…am I supposed to acknowledge every month we’re an item?
“Can you believe it’s already been four months?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun. And you,” I say, hooking my arm around her waist and pulling her closer, “are hella fun.”
She rubs her hands up my arms to my shoulders, ensnaring me with those seafoam-green irises. “Is that a sexual reference by my one-track-mind boyfriend?”
I press my lips to hers, slippery from her peach lip gloss. “I like all of you, you know that.”
“And I like all of you,” she purrs.
“You can show me later, when I drive you home after the game.” Another fringe benefit of driving—when I have access to a car.
My old man’s stingy as hell and forget my brother Graham tossing me his keys.
That leaves my mom, who once again, extends her generosity when I really need it and our weekends align… like this one.
The bell rings for class, and Donna smacks me in the arm playfully before sashaying off, the long hair she scooped into a ponytail swishing when she walks. I follow her with my eyes—and a grin—until she’s out of sight.
I can’t wait until we’re alone later and do…
everything. We’ve gone from zero to sixty in four months, and after fumbling around learning each other’s bodies, we’re in a groove where it’s hard to keep our hands off one another.
I meant what I said though, about liking all of her.
Going on dates, our phone calls, stealing kisses at school. It’s about way more than sex.
Remy bumps into my shoulder, knocking me off balance.
“Fucker,” I grit out.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Callahan.”
“You been scoping out my panties?” I arch a brow.
He snorts, and we walk to class.
Remy shucks off his crimson letterman jacket with the white leather sleeves. We both have them after lettering in baseball last year. “Want to get stoned before the game? I’ve got a joint and a few beers stashed in my ride.”
“You know it, brother.”
“What’s in your hand? Shit, are those Red Hots? I love those.”
I toss him the box. “All yours. Don’t tell Donna. She just gave them to me.”
He snickers. “You are so pussy whipped.”
“Am not, assmunch.” Then again, I would do anything for pussy, so maybe I am.
Remy raises his eyebrows and purses his lips, like he’s trying to keep from laughing or arguing.
I cough a “fuck you” into my fist.
He just grins wider. “Hey, I meant to ask…can you get Donna to introduce me to Karin?”
“Who’s that?”
“The other blond cheerleader. The short one? That chick’s fine.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
“Maybe we can do something after the game…all four of us.” He winks, the cocky bastard.
Not that I doubt Remy. He always seems to bag what he wants. If his sights are set on Karin, I’m not betting against him. And if he plans to bang her the first night, I’d put money in his favor. Girls part their legs for him like saloon doors.