Chapter Three
Jenny
The whole drive back to campus, Monique drills us with questions about the orgy. Every answer has her laughing harder and harder until I’m a little afraid she can’t see the road through the tears.
“Oh my gosh. Why does shit like this never happen to me? Maybe I should let one of my nosy-ass relatives set me up too.” Mon glances in the rearview mirror, looking at Spencer folded up like an accordion in the back seat. “Not only do hilarious things always happen to you, but you also managed to meet literally the most sought-after man on campus in the process.”
“You know about him?” I don’t know why I bother whispering the question. We’re in a freaking Honda Fit. No matter how quietly I speak, Spencer is going to hear.
“Know what? That Spencer Wainwright is the hottest virgin in the country, who is also going to go into the NFL, and has never been seen so much as holding a girl’s hand? Yeah, I know about him. You didn’t?”
Spencer laughs out loud in the back seat. “She didn’t know who I am at all. I had to explain to her that our fine university has a football program.”
“Jesus, Jen, I know you are oblivious to all things sports related, but you didn’t even know we have a football team?” Monique looks at me with absolute horror, as if I have three heads or something.
“I mean, I thought I heard something about it, but they don’t exactly have the team schedule hanging in the library. Which, as you know, is where I spend most of my time.” I look sheepishly back at Spencer, kinda embarrassed now that I didn’t know anything about his apparently remarkable existence. But he just shrugs and smiles a little, not seeming to mind at all that I am athletically obtuse. “Well, I will pay more attention now that I know someone on the team.”
Spencer does this kinda adorable shy smile and looks down for a second, as if the idea of me watching a football game makes him so happy he has to look away to get his happiness back under control. That reaction makes me want to crawl back into the minuscule back seat of Mon’s car and rub myself all over him like a cat. An urge I’ve never really had before.
“So, Spencer, where am I dropping you? I know you don’t live in the athletes’ dorm or in the varsity house, but your location is kind of a giant mystery.” Mon looks up into the rearview mirror and then quickly back at the road.
The silence from the back seat has me turning once again to see what he’s doing. But he’s just staring at me. “You can just go to your dorm, and I’ll walk from there. I don’t like the idea of you two walking through the dark parking lots alone. So, I’ll make sure you get home, then head home myself.”
“You sure? It is only eleven. It isn’t like the campus is going to be empty or anything.” Truth be told, I don’t like the idea of him walking across campus all alone. Which is a ridiculous thought because the guy is a freaking star football player. I’m sure he can handle himself. But the idea of him being alone at all doesn’t sit well.
Or maybe it is just the idea of him being without me.
“Positive.” As he says that single word, it seems to hold so much more meaning. But I can’t decipher the hidden meaning there.
“Man, the rumors about you are right. You have to be just about the nicest guy ever.” Monique pulls into the parking lot to Casey Hall, gently shifting her car into park. “I would have thought a twenty-year-old virgin would be grumpy as hell. God knows this one is.” My roommate throws her thumb over her shoulder to indicate me.
I get out of the car and let Spencer out from his tight confines in the back seat. It is comical watching the guy unfold his at least six-foot-four frame from the back seat of a five-year-old Honda Fit. As soon as he steps out to his full height, he reaches his arms up above his head, and I hear an audiblepopin his back someplace. All that is quickly overshadowed by the two-inch-wide stretch of his abs that I get a peek of when his shirt rides up. Holy shit. Zac Efron would be jealous of Spencer’s abs. On reflex, I almost reach out to touch them. I mean, I am taking human anatomy this year, and holy shit, we should be studying his body in class. Every muscle in his torso is so sharply defined I feel as if I could label them with a pen and use him as a study guide.
His arms drop back to his sides, and those beautiful abs once again disappear. I’m pretty sure I might have whimpered a little. I flash back to the porch we sat on outside the orgy, to that moment right before Monique showed up and I thought for sure he was going to lean in and kiss me. Every single solitary cell in my body had screamed out for him to press his lips to mine, to give me that first long-awaited kiss that I’ve been secretly dreaming about between papers and study sessions.
“So, are you sure you’re going to be okay getting back to your house?” I’m stalling. He knows it. I know it, but damn it, I really don’t want this night to end. It started off as the world’s worst date and ended with me somehow finding a guy I want to know more about. That I can see wanting to make room for in my crazy schedule.
“What would you do if I said no? That I was scared to walk across town alone?” Spencer has this smirk that I’m starting to get to know, a slight uptilt of his mouth. Not enough to be cocky in that douchey way so many college guys have but enough to know that he’s poking fun at me, though in a nice way.
“I’d walk you home of course.” I giggle a little at the preposterous prospect of little five-foot-two me escorting giant quarterback Spencer across campus, but he just looks down at me, considering.
“Actually, that would be nice. As long as you don’t have something you need to do.” He’s serious. Spencer wants me to walk him home.
I know it isn’t because he needs protection, obviously. So it must be because he doesn’t want the night to end either. Energy like I’ve never experienced before zaps through my body. Is this what everyone means when they talk about chemistry? This instant bone-deep knowledge that the person standing in front of you somehow was meant to be in your life?
Biting my lip, I nod and send Mon a quick text letting her know I might be home a little late. A text I have literally never had to send her before unless it was because I stayed at the library until closing. Once that is done, I slip the phone into my purse, and we start walking down the sidewalk. I realize quickly that I should have left my bag back at the dorms. The thing is huge and has my entire life in it: my e-reader, textbook, wallet, mini-laptop, notebooks, pens, a clean shirt in case I spill coffee on myself in class, clean underwear in case of errant periods. You name it, I have it in my bag. The thing must weigh twenty pounds.
The third time I shift it from one shoulder to the next, Spencer reaches over and takes it from me, slinging the long strap over his head and resting it across his broad chest. I can’t help but laugh at this big guy wearing my huge floral-patterned purple purse through the center of campus, which is pretty darn crowded at this time of night on a Friday.
“Totally my style, right? I should get one of these for myself.” He pops that little smirk again, and something inside melts even more. My panties are soaked through, just at the sight of him being a completely confidant gentleman.
Feeling bold in a way I never have before, I slide my hand down his corded forearm and entwine my fingers with his. His are so long and thick that my fingers almost hurt a little from how widely spread they have to be to accommodate his hands. Totally unbidden, a thought pops into my head that has me blushing all over and my nipples turning to hard little nubs. Is this what it would feel like to have my thighs spread wide for his intimidating body? Would there be a little sting of pain along with all the pleasure?
I don’t know what is wrong with me. Things like this never occur to me. I’m not an overly sexual person. I’m a homebody. A bookworm. A nerd. I think about school and jobs and plan my future. I don’t think about what a man I met only hours ago would feel like shoving his body between my legs and taking my virginity. Hell, I’ve never even had the urge to touch myself, at least not in that way. I’ve looked out of curiosity and because every woman should be aware of her anatomy and what is normal for her. But suddenly, I have the urge to masturbate. Is this because of the orgy I witnessed? Am I some sort of sexual deviant now?
“You okay? You look kind of flushed.” Spencer stops me in my tracks by pulling back slightly on my hand.
When I look up, I see he is staring at the front of my shirt. My cardigan has come unbuttoned, and my thin T-shirt is doing nothing to hide my aroused state. His eyes slide up to meet mine, and I see heat there. So strong I wouldn’t be surprised if I could feel the actual temperature around us rise.
