I had a feeling that the last part was just for Nessa.
When she stormed into the back room, he carried himself out the door with the air of man who hadn't been shot down, yet again, by the woman he was all-too-obviously interested in.Bottle of confidence, aisle two?
“I can tell you one thing," June said cryptically, nodding toward the front windows. Just outside, a small crowd of passersby had begun to swarm around Pink. So much for his disguise.
“What?” I asked.
"One way or another, that boy’s gonna be trouble.”
"Agreed."
What I didn't tell her was that I had firsthand—and as of recently, mouth—experience with trouble, and from what I had seen, touched, and tasted so far, it was worth it.
Soren
Roasters 11-8
So much for our winning streak. Our trip to Vancouver had been a major bust.
To say the Tridents had cleaned our clocks would be putting it mildly. Our clocks had been cleaned, polished, buffed, and shined. Four games, four losses, which meant I was looking forward to four hours of nursing my wounds—both mental and physical—under the shower spray. After I iced my knees. Both of them.
Much to my disappointment, Clarke hadn't made the trip to Vancouver with us. Which sucked because I had gotten used to seeing her everyday. I missed her beaming smiles, her doe-like eyes, those pouty red lips that made me picture things I shouldn't.
Friends don't think about other friends' lips wrapped around their cock.
I just missed her. More than anything, I missed the way I felt when I was with her.
At first, I thought just being her friend might be enough. Hell, any sad sap would be lucky to have Clarke in their life. But I was a greedy fuck. I wanted to be the last person she saw before she fell asleep at night, and the one who woke her up with a sickly sweet latte every morning.
I wanted all of her. I needed all of her.
Starting now.
When I pulled up to Bed of Roses, I dumped my bags off at my trailer, swapped out my game day suit for some gym shorts and a hoodie, and headed next door. I didn't even bother putting on my shoes.
Clarke must have seen me coming because the door to her trailer flew open before I even reached the first step.
"You're back."
"Hey, blondie."
We stood there, just staring at each other for going on a minute. She was already dressed for bed, her legs naked save for a tiny pair of shorts that barely covered all my favorite parts and some knee-high socks with coffee beans on them.
"New socks?"
Her eyes flicked down her legs. "They just came into the Roasters shop this weekend. Like them?"
"I do."
She must have noticed the edge to my voice—or maybe it was the dark circles beneath my eyes—because the next words out of her mouth were, "Rough weekend?"
"You could say that."
"I'm sorry. You played well, though. Two homeruns."
My lips kicked up. Knowing that she had been watching me play, even from four-hundred miles away, gave me a certain level of satisfaction.
I kept my hands at my sides, resisting every instinct to race forward and take her into my arms. That was until she steppedforward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, drawing me into her.
