“He’s a baby,” I mutter from the side of my mouth. “I’m pretty sure that’s peach fuzz on his cheeks.”
She shrugs. “He’s still adorable.”
“Then you should go for it.” My gaze remains fixed on the guy. “Maybe you can offer him a lollipop and he’ll come home with you.”
She chokes out a laugh and elbows me in the ribs. “You’re a terrible human being.”
“True statement,” I agree. “But that’s why you love me.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” She narrows her eyes as if actually giving it some thought.
Since the guy on the field hasn’t budged, I clear my throat and say more loudly so he can hear me. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Although I can’t imagine what that could be.
“I’ve got a special delivery for you.”
“Oh?” I glance at Olivia.
She raises her brows and shrugs.
Only now do I notice that he’s holding something in his hands. He pulls back his arm and launches it. A dark plastic bag sails right to me, and I catch it easily. That’s when I remember this guy is a third string quarterback.
Jackson. He’s a freshman.
“What is this?” I shout.
“Open it up and find out,” he encourages with a smile.
Olivia’s right, he’s adorable. He may be third string and a freshman, but he has quite the fan base on campus. And not all of them are underclassmen either. Apparently, Jackson brings out the cougar in some of these BU girls.
I untie the plastic handles and peek inside before pulling out a thick, neatly folded square of material. I hold it up to get a better look.
It’s a jersey.
On the front is the number forty-two. I turn it over and the name Prescott is stamped across the back in white block letters. His number is beneath it.
I look up. Jackson has disappeared, and Carter now stands in his place. A grin spills across his handsome face.
“Hey, sorry about that,” he yells. “I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough time to get the jersey to you.” He glances toward the tunnel where one of the assistant coaches is waiting. The guy points to his wristwatch and taps it twice. Carter nods and the coach goes back to staring at his clipboard.
“You got me a jersey?” My heartbeat kicks up a notch at his thoughtfulness.
He scoffs, “I can’t very well let my girl walk around in another guy’s number, now can I?”
Ever since freshman year, I’ve worn Noah’s jersey in a show of support.
“It’s my cousin,” I shout with a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that front.”
He tilts his head to the side and squints.
Hot damn, but he looks sexy in his black jersey and tight white pants that hug his muscular thighs. The thick pads make his shoulders seem impossibly broad and his waist tapered.
And the blackout under his eyes…
I squeeze my thighs together to lessen the ache throbbing between them. The thought of having to wait at least four hours before I can get my hands on him makes me groan.
“Down, girl,” Olivia whispers, voice simmering with laughter.
