Wait, I’m sitting in a women’s studies class. I shouldn’t sexualize her.
If I was totally honest, her eccentric personality and drive made her sexier. Cate was a ball-buster—except when it came to Sonny—and I liked it. What was the deal with that? Sonny was a fucker, and I needed to have a chat with him. But I suspected Little Miss Independent wouldn’t appreciate that.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The lights went down and the movie started.
Holy shit, if this was what women’s studies was all about, I wanted in. Right away, I knew the cop and the chick were role-playing. God, he banged her six ways to Sunday every week like that, and she was smoking in a non-curvy way.
It was right about when she slid down on her knees and shoved his cock in her mouth, I realized I didn’t even have a chubby. Hmm. And I hadn’t been laid since . . . a while.
Discreetly, I turned my head to face Cate, careful to keep my eyes hidden by the rim of my hood. The little pixie was squirming in her seat. Jesus F. Christ. I squinted to get a better glimpse, and sure enough, I could see her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
Hot. Damn. My girl was turned on, and I was pretty sure that wasn’t why we were here.
Before I knew it, the movie was over, and I had no idea what happened after the blow job or how long it had been since I turned to watch Cate—who was now staring back at me.
I turned my head back to the screen and watched the second movie as if it was the NBA Draft. I made mental notes on all the bondage scenes, and what not to do. Ever.
As soon as the lights came up and the bitchy professor announced the discussion would take place the following day during class, I hightailed it out of there to the exit on the opposite side of the room, hoping to meet up with Cate.
Leaned up against the wall across from the door, I didn’t have to wait long. She practically ran from the room and stumbled over her own feet, face-planting into my chest.
“Hey! If I knew you were going to be so excited to see me, I would’ve sat next to you,” I mumbled into her hair, the curls tickling my nose.
She made a fist and jammed it into my chest. “Ouch! That hurt me more than you! No fair,” she whisper-yelled.
I threw my arm around her and led her toward the main entrance. “Let’s get out of here before Professor Meany discovers I’m nothing more than a male athlete. She’d probably strip me down and burn me at the stake in the middle of campus.”
“Hush. I had to fight to get into this class.”
“I can see why. It’s like a precursor to an orgy.” I squeezed her tight and tried to keep her glued to me.
“Shhh,” she hissed through a giggle. Then she conveniently slid out from under my arm to snatch her umbrella off the floor before we made our way through the revolving door and outside.
The rain had stopped since I’d arrived, and the air was damp but cold. I should have been chilly but instead was a little overheated, and the warmth emanating from Miss Turned-On and the sparks shooting between us didn’t help. I took off my hoodie and threw it over my left shoulder before sliding my other arm around Cate again.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting my arm around a lady,” I said, not bothered by her threatening glare.
“You’re supposed to be celibate. I mean, I’m not saying you want to do me or anything, but I don’t think it’s smart for you to be seen like this.”
“Are you fishing for compliments? Want to hear that I want you?” I turned the tables on Miss Know-It-All. That’s right, I have game both on and off the court.
“No!”
Okay, maybe my moves weren’t so great off the court when it came to actually liking someone.
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she said. “You said it yourself, we’re buddies.”
“After what we just experienced together, we are more than buddies.”
“Blane, I highly doubt that. Stop fucking with me.”
“There you go again with that mouth of yours.”
I still hadn’t moved my arm, so I decided distraction was as good a tactic as any.
Cate blew out a huff. “My mom is a hot-tempered Cuban, my dad a full-blooded Italian. Tempers flare on both sides of my family, and even though they’re divorced, those two can go at it. Still.”
“Mine too. Divorced. Go at it. All of the above. Except for the Italian and Cuban part. My mom is really nothing. A Southerner, I guess. My dad, a nice Roman Catholic boy who left the church the day he got his driver’s license. He’s a truck driver. Been one forever.”
“And you? The big star? Going pro, making something of yourself . . . no degree necessary but you’re still getting one.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “You sound like my mom.”
Cate laughed. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go get a drink. Something other than beer. Are you even legal?”
“Six more months, so no. You?”
“Yeah, I reclassed after eighth grade, so I’m good to go. Almost twenty-two.”