Huh? “But I didn’t ask you anything.”
“I know what you want.” She starts walking and I fall in behind her. Chasing her really. I didn’t plan on this. “You’re all the same. Thinking you can wait around here, hoping to catch me. Trap me. My reputation is far more outrageous than what I’ve actually done with any of your friends,” she tosses over her shoulder as she picks up speed. For such a little thing, she sure is fast.
Wait a minute. What she said, what’s it supposed to mean? “I’m not looking for an easy mark.”
She laughs but the sound is brittle. “You don’t need to lie, Drew Callahan. I know what you want from me.”
At least she knows who I am. I snag her arm just as she’s about to cross the street, stopping her in her tracks and she turns to glare at me. My fingers tingle, even though all I’m grabbing at is coat fabric. “What do you think I want from you?”
“Sex.” She spits the word out, her green eyes narrowed, her pale blonde hair glowing bright from the shine of the streetlight we’re standing under. “Look, my feet are killing me and I’m exhausted. You chose the wrong night to think you can get with me.”
I’m totally confused. She’s talking like she’s some sort of paid prostitute and I’m hoping to get a quickie blowjob in an alley or something.
Drinking in her features, my gaze settles on her mouth. She has a great one. Full, sexy lips, she could probably give a most excellent blowjob if I’m being honest with myself, but that’s not why I’m here.
Makes me wonder exactly how many of my fellow teammates have got with her. I mean, the only reason I’m talking to her is because of that reputation she mentioned. But I’m not trying to buy her off for sex.
I’m trying to buy her off for protection.
Fable [noun]: a story not founded on fact; an untruth; falsehood.
Campus golden boy Drew Callahan is holding onto me like he’s never going to let go and he makes me nervous. He’s huge, well over six feet and with shoulders as broad as a mountain. Considering he plays football, that’s no surprise, right? And I’ve made out with a few of the guys from his team. They’re all pretty muscly and big.
But not a one of them makes my heart race just by grabbing my arm. I don’t like how I react to him. I don’t usually react to anyone.
With all the strength I can muster, I tug out of his grip and step away from him gaining some much needed distance. A sort of pleading light flickers in his eyes and I part my lips, ready to tell him to fuck off when he beats me to the punch.
“I need your help.”
Frowning, I rest my hands on my hips. Which is sort of hard considering the stupid bulky coat I’m wearing. It’s cold outside and the flimsy skirt I wear for work is allowing a major draft to coast up my legs. Thank God for wool tights, though I know my boss hates them. He says they’re not very sexy.
I could give a crap about what he says when it comes to what’s sexy. My tips are still good. I have over one hundred dollars in my purse from tonight. It’s already spent though.
My money is always spent before I actually get it in my hands.
“Why do you need my help?” I ask.
He glances around, as if afraid someone might see us. No surprise. Most guys don’t want to be seen with me in public.
Sometimes it really sucks, being the campus slut. Especially when I don’t even go to that stupid university.
“Maybe we could go somewhere and talk,” he suggests with a slight smile. I’m sure most girls would melt at first sight of that smile, the beguiling look on his face. It’s a beautiful face and he knows it, with those dark eyebrows that match his brown hair and the striking blue eyes.
But I’m not most girls. I don’t fall for a bunch of crap. “I’m not going anywhere with you to talk. If you have something to say, you can do it right here. Be quick with it too, because I need to go home.” I’m pretty sure my mom isn’t there and my little brother is all alone.
Not good.
He blows out a harsh breath, sounding all irritated. I don’t care. Whatever he has to say can’t be something I’d consider. I’m too curious though, so I need to know. Just so I can savor it later.
Drew Callahan does not talk to girls like me. I’m a local. A townie. He’s the quarterback of our winning university football team. He’s like a superstar, larger than life, with fans and everything. He has NFL aspirations for the love of God.
I work a shitty job and can barely make ends meet. My mom is an alcoholic who sleeps around and my little brother is starting to get into trouble at school. Our worlds are such total opposites I don’t have a clue why he would want to talk to me.
“Thanksgiving break is next week,” he starts out and I roll my eyes.