“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” I pulled her back in for a kiss, touching my nose to hers.
“Quite possibly,” she said with a small smile, taking her hand in mine as we began to walk again.
“Do you live far from here?” I asked, and Macey shook her head.
“About a block, in the Eagle River Apartments.”
“Can I walk you home?”
For a moment, I was sure she would turn me down flat, or worse yet, laugh in my face. I had just asked her to be my girlfriend, and we hadn’t even been on a proper date yet. But she did neither of those things. Instead, she blushed a little. Not a lot, but enough for me to notice. She reached for that long, beautiful braid once more and touched it, running her fingers along her hair.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 12
Macey
I’d almost said noto Jayce, mostly because his offer had caught me completely off guard. Very few guys had ever offered to walk me home before, especially not ones of Jayce Gregory’s golden boy stature at this school. But why not? We were official now, and it didn’t matter if suddenly I felt like a love-struck teenage girl in high school. I was an adult now, and I really liked Jayce. I mean, Ireallyliked him.
“Do you live near here, too?” I asked.
“I do,” Jayce said, and I was hyperaware of his shoulder bumping into mine as we walked, even though he held my hand anyway. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until my eyes began to water. “I live over in the Rendezvous,” he continued. “A cute little apartment all to myself.” He turned his head slightly and winked, and the sudden smoldering fire between my legs got heavier, and my chest seemed to close up with something that felt completely new to me.
“I’ve always wondered how nice it would be to not even have to leave inside to get to class in the morning,” I mused, swallowing the urge I had to take Jayce’s hand and slip it between my legs.
Whoa, girl, keep it in your pants.
“Well, you know why they house athletes in the Rendezvous building, don’t you?”
“No, why?”
“Because we truly are all lazy sonsabitches,” Jayce said, and I could hear that slight midwestern accent come out in his voice, which drove me even crazier for him. Idaho, maybe? Or Montana? I made a mental note to ask, trying to ignore the tiny voice in my head that insisted we should have known each other better before jumping into this.
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “Athletes can’t be that lazy by default, can they?”
“Believe me,” Jayce said. “We can. Basically, the university just hands athletes every single opportunity not to screw up,” he continues. “God forbid us high achievers, and school stars are ever late for class. How would that look? Hell, we’ll just throw ’em two halls down, so they have no choice but to come. It’s not like you can just sneak out.” He grunted in frustration, which made me laugh.
