“Way to stereotype,” he smirks, indicating that he's joking. “But no, soccer is my game. I tried hockey, but I'm absolutely terrible on the ice. How about you?”
“Nope, can't skate to save my life. Football is my jam. Been playing it my whole life.”
“Yeah, I saw you at the practice game last week. You looked pretty solid,” he remarks, his eyes scanning over me briefly, the wind ruffling the ends of his sandy hair.
“Just solid?” I huff in arrogance. “You know I’m one of the top quarterbacks in the country right?”
“I didn’t know anything about football before last Sunday, but yeah, that’s the first thing I’ve learned. I don't think there’s a student here who doesn’t know of you. You're everywhere, my King.” He sideeyes me again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in humor.
“I don’t like that part,” I admit, ignoring his jab at my name. “But I love playing football, always have. The fans and attention just comes with the territory, I guess, but I love the game too much, so it’s worth it.”
“Do you play anything else besides football?”
“Not really. The training and games take up most of my time, but I also enjoy surfing every now and then when I have the time. You surf?” I nod at the ocean. I don’t know why, but I feel like he does. Probably because of his blondish hair and sunkissed skin. Not to mention he does seem athletic.
He gazes at me in question, his curiosity evident. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asks suddenly, changing the subject.
I shrug nonchalantly, maybe widening my legs a little more to mark my territory, still leaning back on my bench and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. “Because I’m just a nice guy?” He arches an eyebrow and I wave him off. “Yeah yeah, I know I was complaining about the pushy fans, but I do enjoy conversation with normal people, you know. And besides, you totally had this lost puppy vibe just now, I thought you needed the contact,” I joke.
“Huh, most guys just aren't nice to me or try to get to know me,” he replies, his apprehension fading slightly.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely puzzled. He hasn't done anything to warrant such treatment. If anything, he seems like a cool guy who's just new in town.
There's a brief silence, during which I notice him rubbing his light scruff before he answers, “Like I said, guys don't always appreciate it when their girls check me out. When I was modeling and playing in a band at the same time, gaining some recognition in Amsterdam, it caused a tension sometimes. Especially at gigs.”
“You model?” I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.
He scrunches his face, acknowledging the truth. “Not anymore. But yeah, used to. I'm not oblivious. I know that I... Well, let's say I know that I attract attention. I really needed the money at that time, and it was a quick way to earn some which helped a lot. And it also helped to promote my old band and gain popularity. So, yeah, I guess I have some brains.”
“You're also very full of yourself,” I tease.
“I would rather be full of something else,” he says, biting his bottom lip and shamelessly checking me out again. “But let's not go there.”
“You're also quite flirty,” I point out with a grin, ignoringthatparticular remark.
“Flirting is my specialty,” he replies, winking at me mischievously.
I snort. “Yeah, I don't doubt that.”
“Do you have a problem with it?” He cocks his head and looks at me questioningly. “If so, just say so and I’ll try to back off. You know, you just told me your girl looked me up online and I don’t want to cause trouble if I accidentally flirt with her.”
I raise an eyebrow in question. “Accidentally?”
“Yeah. I know it sounds stupid but it happened before. Half of the time I’m not even aware of the stupid shit that comes out of my mouth. So just say so when I overstep.”
“Honestly?” I look him up and down, taking him in again, before shrugging. “I get the appeal. I'm not attracted to men, just to clarify, but I'm not blind either. I know my girl is just curious about the new European guy making waves. And hey, I'm not lacking in confidence myself. I'm a catch, you know?”
He gives me a soft chuckle, obviously pleased with my answer, and gazes back at the sparkling ocean. “Aren’t you the one who throws the ball instead of catching it? But yes, you sure are. In that case, yes, I do surf. Haven't hit the waves here yet, but back home I did it every once in a while.”
“Well, that’s great.” I tap my fist against his solid shoulder and grin. “Because there are probably going to be awesome waves this weekend. I was gonna hit it, but Lamar’s been whining about it. He hates fish, is afraid they're gonna chew his dick off.”
Jace laughs again. “He does know you usually wear a swimsuit right? Or does he prefer to surf naked?”
“Knowing Lamar, yeah. He definitely prefers skinny dipping. That's another reason it might be better that he doesn't come along. It wouldn't be the first time he's been naked on a surfboard.”
“Oh please invite him,” Jace says, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I want to see that.”
I let out a chuckle, playfully poking him with my shoulder. “Of course you do. But do you have gear and a board here?”
