"Today's probably an off-day from training," Sable considers, nodding sagely, her glass of wine in hand.
"How do you know this stuff?" I ask.
Sable shrugs. "High school cheerleader, honey. I've dated athletes."
"Isn't football season over?" Okay, see, I know something about football. I'm actually proud of that fact.
"Yes, summer's off-season," Sable says slowly, like I'm a small child incapable of understanding large words. "They still train off-season. Though not as hard as they will come fall."
"Anyway, it was crazy," I say. Heat rises to my cheeks at the thought of all of the half-naked coeds waltzing around the house like it was the set of a porn shoot. Not to mention the thought of Colton… naked and standing in front of me by the pool, water droplets rolling down his chest, little rivulets that glistened off his pecs in the sunlight.
"Hello?" Sable waves a hand in front of my face. "Are you daydreaming about him?"
"No," I protest, wrinkling my face in disgust. I'm not sure whether the disgust is real or feigned. "I am absolutely not daydreaming about Colton King. The party was... like nothing I've ever seen before."
"I'm sure," Sable says, the edges of her lips turned up in a knowing smile. "It was a football party. So, back to Colton …"
"There's nothing to tell," I insist. "He was an ass. He was sliding off his roof into a swimming pool – completely naked — and I'm pretty sure he was greased up with lube or baby oil because he was shiny and there apparently were naked girls wrestling in lube somewhere else in the house. And he was totally arrogant. He called me a stripper. Can you believe that?"
"He was naked," Sable says.
"Of all of the things I just said, that's the part that jumps out to you?"
"The question is, did it stick out to you?" Sable says, wiggling her eyebrows and leering at me.
I narrow my eyes. "Is that a penis reference?"
"Yes, Virgin Mary, that's a penis reference," Sable teases. "Oh my God. Was that the first time you ever saw a real life cock?"
My face reddens. "I'm a virgin, not a nun," I say. "Yes, I've seen cock before."
None like that one, though.
"So you saw Colton King's dick," Sable says, looking at me over the edge of her wine glass. "Was it everything I imagine?"
"It was... big."
Sable laughs. "I assume so. That's part of what's legendary. Was it gorgeous?"
"I'm not a penis connoisseur," I say. "I don't know."
It was fucking spectacular.
"So he talked to you," Sable prods.
"He called me a stripper."
"I guess he thinks you're hot," Sable says. "It's a compliment. And you got to see Colton King naked. How is this not the best day ever?? We should be celebrating!"
"Seeing some stupid football player naked isn't the highlight of my day, Sable," I say haughtily.
Sable laughs. "It should be."
4
Colton
"Academic probation. Do I need to spell it out for you?" Coach Walker asks. "You think you're hot shit just because you had a good run last year? You don't get your fucking grades up, you're ineligible in the fall. Which means you don't play."
I mumble my protest. All of the mouthy shit I can get away with when it comes to other people definitely doesn’t fly with Coach.
“Skipping classes, not turning in assignments, partying …” he goes on, ticking off my list of sins. His face turns redder and redder as he gets louder and louder. “The university isn’t tolerating that shit anymore.”
“It's not like I need English 212." I blurt it out without thinking. I had an amazing fall. I’m shit hot and I could go pro early if I wanted. Fuck this "finishing college" bullshit.
“You need it because I say you need it. You’re going to get with the tutor I assigned you, and you’re going to learn some goddamn discipline.”
The tutor I was assigned. The hot little librarian with the smart mouth.
Her brand of tutoring might not be so bad. My dick stirs at the thought of her in that skirt and heels. I wonder what the skirt would look like pulled up around her waist.
"Coach?" I ask.
"What?" he barks.
"I think she might have quit."
"Then you will be your charming self and get her back," he says.
"Can't we find another one?"
"Another tutor who doesn't know who the hell you are and isn't going to let you get away with shit?" he asks. "She's your goddamn tutor. So whatever you said to her, you un-say it."
"Yes, Coach."
* * *
"Shit, ma, I told Drew not to tell you," I complain into the phone. My mom’s voice on speaker echoes through the car. I should have known my damn brother would tell her. My own twin, a traitor.
"Well, he told me because he's a good son," she says, laying on the mom guilt. "Unlike his younger brother, who's off at school on the other side of the state partying and doing God knows what else. You're not on drugs, are you?"