I left the following morning of the party to fly to Texas for a national event and came back to Colorado for three days, just to fly out again to Virginia for a training camp with the USA team for a week. I just got in last night, and I’m fucking exhausted. I want nothing more than to go back to fucking bed, but there’s a particular blonde I’m itching to see.
Silently, I stare down at the paper, keeping my arms firmly at mysides. The second she realizes I’m not taking it, the surrounding air grows awkward, and she hesitates to bring it back toward her, as if she can’t decide whether to physically push it against my chest or just give up.
Any other time, I would be a lot nicer to her. Being a public figure, I make it a point not to be an asshole to others if I can help it. My publicist would walk off the top of a building if I treated everyone like I treat Reverie. And if they hated me the way she does, I’d sooner drown than land sponsorships or brand deals.
Plus, when the majority of people who interact with me have positive experiences, it makes them a lot more complacent when they bear witness to my and Reverie’s feud.
“I mean, her father did kill his mom. Can you really blame him for giving her a hard time?”
“She kinda does deserve it, though…”
“He’s actually so nice. He only acts that way toward her because of what her family did to him, and it's honestly understandable.”
Truthfully, her fucking with me back has helped keep my reputation fairly positive, because now, most people see our dynamic as a mutual war. I'm not the sole aggressor, and I have justifiable reasons.
Now Reverie, on the other hand…
When I meet the girl’s stare, she’s wiped that childish expression clean from her face, replaced with embarrassment, bright red cheeks, and a slight frown, her eyes darting all around us.
I guess she’s in my finance class and stopped me just as I stepped out into the hallway. The lecture ended two minutes ago, and dozens of students are filing out around us, forcing me to step back and lean against the wall while she stands only a few inches in front of me.
I should be nice and just take the goddamn paper, but I'm justreallynot in the mood. I still haven't seen Reverie outside of my stupid fucking screen saver, and it's making me extremely irritable.
Whatever. I'm allowed to have my bad days.
“Uh, y-you don’t have to take it. I just wanted to get to know you, that’s all,” she says, ending the sentence with an uneasy laugh. “All these other girls talk about you like you’re not a real person, and I hate the way they dehumanize you, ya know? I guess I just wanted you to know I see you for you, not the Olympic gold medalist everyone reduces you to.”
She’d be extremely surprised to hear I’ve heard that exact speech from nearly every single girl who’s tried to seduce me.
“I’m different. I see you for who you really are.”
“They just want to use you, but not me. Never me.”
“You’re more than just a celebrity. I see beneath all that. I see the real person you hide from the world, but you can’t hide it from me.”
Truthfully, I prefer they be upfront with me. When they tell me they just want to fuck, I respect it a hell of a lot more than the ones who try to act like they’re special.
Not a single fucking one of them is special.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
That perks her up a little, and her lips curl into another shy smile. She tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear, and I think she meant that to be endearing.
It wasn’t.
“Victoria.”
“If I told you all I’m interested in is a quick fuck, would you spread your legs for me?”
She blinks, surprised by the question, but she recovers quickly and smooths out her expression into contemplation. “If that’s what you needed from me at that moment. I would never push you into giving me something more until you’re ready.”
Until I’m ready.
As if I’dkeepfucking her, and she’d somehow worm her way into my heart. Somewhere in that eager little brain of hers, she’s convinced me sleeping with her one time will be all it takes to hook me, keep me coming back for more. She probably thinks she’ll be the greatest fuck of my life, purely because she’s determined to be. I bet she’s played out a million different scenarios, and in each one, she pulls off some trick with her body or says something she thinks I’ve never heard before. In her mind, I’d just become so addicted, I’d need more.
She’d be wrong.
Pussy is pussy, and they’re all the fucking same, especially when they pretend like theirs drips gold.
