“Same thing,” I shrug.
They stare at me like I’m insane. Which is fair.
I’m not sure what to call whatever it is we’re doing. I know Beck, even if he doesn’t know himself yet. And I know I need to work on being less obvious, because the last thing I want to do is force him out of the closet.
I tell myself I’m going to do the right thing and cool it when we’re in public, but the very next time I see him, I’m already being tested.
Most of the team has crowded into the dining hall for dinner, taking up several large tables filled with athletes more often than not, since the student center building is the closest dining hall to the athletic dorms.
Beck, of course, chooses whatever seat is farthest away from me, but the table fills on both sides, pushing us towards the center of the table until we end up directly across from each other. The glare he gives me—no doubt in response to my obvious glee—would level a sane person. But I am living my best life getting to play brat to his grumpy act.
“Stop it,” he mouths.
I mouth back, “What?” and don’t even try to hold back my smirk. I know he loves to hate it.
He cuts his eyes down to my mouth. So I lick my lips slowly, nearly laughing out loud when he snaps upright, spine as straight as the stick up his ass, and darts his eyes around frantically. He settles his attention on Cade and a sophomore football player, who are arguing over which women’s team has the hottest girls. Football bro says the volleyball team, and most of the guys around us nod emphatically. Then Cade clears his throat and gestures across the dining hall to where a truly stunningly gorgeous woman with golden skin and vivid blue hairis standing talking to a cute little twink in a pair of baggy jeans and a crop top.
“Gentlemen, I present to you Ivy Quinn from women’s tennis singles.”
Even the football bro nods like, yeah, you’ve got me there. “She’s only one chick, though.”
“Quality over quantity, my man. She’s got it all.”
Pierce, sitting three seats down, snorts. “I guess if you’re into that sort of thing. She’s a littlealternativefor my tastes.”
“Is that code for she looks like she has opinions?” Fish asks. Aaron snorts.
“She is a bit mouthy actually, since you brought it up. Always waving her flags around like everyone needs to know her business. And look at the way she dresses. Talk about full of herself.”
Brody looks over. She’s wearing athletic leggings and a white t-shirt with orange, red, and pink letters that says, “I have a nut allergy.”
“You have a popped collar and a sweater tied around your shoulders,” Aaron points out. My mouth drops open in shocked amusement. Since when does sweet, quiet Aaron throw out sick burns like that?!
The table erupts. Watching Pierce get his bullshit flipped on him might be just as satisfying as getting Beck all flustered earlier.
“I don’t understand the shirt,” Cade stage whispers to Fish.
“Dude, she’s a lesbian.”
Cade perks up. “Really?”
Fish rolls his eyes. “Cade, a smart, sophisticated woman like that wouldn’t give you the time of day even if you did have the right equipment.”
“I don’t care. That just makes her hotter.”
“You’re a walking red flag,” Fish says and rolls his eyes.
They continue bickering, giving me time to slide my foot across the floor under the table and nudge Beck’s ankle. He jerks like he’s been shocked. His eyes widen comically, giving me a look that suggests where I should go with my audacity before he looks away so dramatically it might qualify as theater. I fucking love it.
So, I slide my foot up his calf. Slowly. Deliberately.
A blotchy red flush creeps up his neck.
Mmmph.Beautiful.
“Yo, Brody. Where’d you go the other night? Did you hook up with that Amanda chick?”
“Amanda the swimmer?” Jay asks, eyebrow raised.
