She swirls the blue liquid in her cup, a thoughtful expression settling on her face. “I guess you’d better enjoy the next twelve games then.”
“There are only ten games left in the season,” I say, correcting her automatically.
Two down, ten to go. We need ten more Ws if we want a shot at the title.
“Who says I’m talking about the regular season?” She arches a brow. “I hear Waverly’s going all the way this year.”
I like the way this girl thinks. Her ass may be divine, but it’s nothing compared to her big sexy brain and all the snarky sarcasm it delivers.
“You know, Emma Stone is my favorite ginger, but you’re a close second.”
She scowls up at me, lips pinched. “You cannot say ginger. Only redheads get to say ginger.”
I want to ask what kind of sense that makes, but I bite my tongue. This is the perfect opportunity to prove I’m not a complete Neanderthal, and I’m not about to waste it.
“I’ll do better,” I say, remembering her apology from the coffee shop. She beams, and my stupid heart does a happy dance, emulating one of those cat memes the internet loves so much. I grab a strand of her hair, and it slides right through my fingers. It may look like fire, but it’s as smooth as silk. “Let me see your fake. This hair couldn’t be easy to match.”
“No way.” She bats my hand away. “And how do you know it’s a fake?”
“You told me you were nineteen.”
Surprise washes over her features. “You remember that?”
How could I possibly forget?
“Sweetheart, I remember everything.” I sweep her hair back and tuck it behind her ear. “Speaking of which, don’t you think it’s time to give up the Virgin Quest?”
She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “Not a chance.”
I figured as much. Fortunately, I don’t mind settling for the next best thing.
“Then I guess it’s up to me to distract you.” I trail a finger down her cheek. “Dance with me.”
13
QUINN
“Dance?”I repeat, pointing to Cooper’s broad chest because words are not my friend right now.AMF 1–Quinn 0. “With you?”
I must’ve heard wrong. Coop’s anti-virgin, and, as far as I can tell, anti-fun.
At least when it comes to me.
“Yes, Quinn.” A smile plays across his lips and dang, it’s sexy. “With me.”
I should say no, if only because he cockblocked me—again. On the other hand, don’t I deserve to have a little fun of my own after the stunt he pulled? And it’s not like I have to worry about embarrassing myself or stepping on his toes, because…Coop.
As long as I don’t do permanent damage to the Wildcats’ star receiver, it’ll be fine.
Or it’s the perfect recipe for a Quinntessential Disaster.
I shrug, ignoring the buzzkill in my head. “I’m game if you are.”
Coop’s grin widens and my belly churns with nervous energy. Or maybe that’s alcohol? Hard to say which because he takes my hand, his warm, rough palm brushing against mine, and my brain short circuits.
It’s a total shutdown and reboot.
When I finally get my bearings, Coop’s relieved me of my drink and disposed of it God only knows where. Our eyes lock and holy shit, this is really happening. He stares down at me with the kind of intensity I thought was reserved for football. Or hooking up, though I don’t have firsthand knowledge since, ya know, virgin.
