I’ve not given myself the chance to consider what Berklee might think of me being here. I’m just a guy tagging along to a football game with his friend. Nothing more. Except that’s an utter fucking lie, and she and I both know it. She’ll be able to see right through me, and I couldn’t give two shits. No way can I go all weekend without being with her. She’s unleashed the beast and I need to feel her.
We reach the bleachers and I step to the side, letting Zane lead the way to his family, to Berklee. I push my hands into my pockets as we climb the bleachers. I have to in order to keep from reaching out for her. She’s my addiction. One taste and I’m all in.
“Hey, hey!” Zane says, stopping at the end of a row almost all the way to the top.
Instantly my eyes lock with hers. She’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling. That’s a good sign. I can only hope that means that she’s coming home with me tonight. We haven’t talked about where we would be doing this, but tonight I want her in my bed.
Everyone stands to move down the row, allowing us to sit with them. I’m shocked when Berklee stands and moves to the end. Maggie follows and everyone moves down yet again. She leaves room for me to sit beside Berklee with her on my other side. I don’t hesitate to take what’s being offered, sliding in between the girls and placing my hand on Berklee’s knee.
“Hey, beautiful,” I whisper in her ear. It’s completely out of character for me, but it’s the first thing I could think to say.
“Hi.” She smiles over at me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Neither did I,” I tell her. Understanding crosses her face. Leaning in, I whisper, “Come home with me.”
“We just got here.”
“After the game, after whatever it is you had planned for tonight, come home with me.”
“Is that part of the plan?” she asks.
“It is if we say so. We can do what we want. It’s just logistics, although the thought of you in my bed has me hard as a rock,” I whisper just for her.
She wiggles in her seat. “Okay.” No hesitation, no counter offer, just complete agreement.
“Crew, how have you been?” Maggie asks.
I have to force myself to take my eyes off Berklee to turn and address her. “Good, and you?”
“Good. Hearing great things about the club, congrats.”
“Thank you. Berklee and Zane are a big part of that.” I’m not above giving credit where credit is due.
“Surprised to see you here tonight. Zane usually comes alone.”
She’s baiting me, looking out for her best friend. I’m glad Berklee has someone in her corner. “Never had incentive before.”
“And now you do?” she asks, watching me closely for my reaction.
Surprising even myself, I reach over, lace my hand with Berklee’s and raise them slightly in the air. “Yep.”
Maggie looks past me and at her best friend. I turn to look at Berklee and her eyes are shining bright. I want to kiss her, feel those soft lips against mine, but I refrain. That’s not part of the deal, public displays. I drop her hand, reminding myself that she’s already agreed to come home with me. I don’t need to schmooze her. Only that’s not how it feels. Not with Berklee.
The game starts and conversation halts as we watch Garrison dominate the field in the first half.
“Bathroom break. Berklee, you need to go?” Maggie asks, leaning over me.
“Yeah, I better.” She stands and places her hands on my shoulders as she steps around me. My eyes are glued to her as she walks away. That’s when I see the name “Davis” sprawled across her back.
What the fuck? Why is she wearing his sweatshirt?
“Why are you scowling at her ass? It’s a fine one, if you ask me,” Zane asks.
“She wearing his fucking name,” I blurt out.
Zane looks back to the girls, but they’ve since disappeared into the crowd. “What are you yapping about?” he asks.
“Berklee. She has on his sweatshirt. His last name’s on her back.”
Zane laughs. “Chill the fuck out, man. It’s just a sweatshirt.”
“I thought you said they weren’t involved?”
“They’re not that I know of. They live together, so I’m sure she just borrowed it.”
I don’t reply, just sit and stew. I hate the thought of him claiming her in any way. Or worse, that she lets him. Not able to take it, I stand. “I’m going to grab a drink.” I’m a dick and don’t offer to get anyone else anything. Normally I would, but I can’t think about anything but getting to Berklee and asking her about the sweatshirt. I don’t take the time to stop and think about how crazy I sound. It doesn’t matter though, not when it comes to Berklee. We have an agreement, and I intend to make sure that she sticks to it. No way am I letting her change her mind before I’ve been inside her.
Taking the bleachers two at a time, I head toward the restrooms. The girls are just walking out when I reach them. I hold my hand out for Berklee and she takes it without hesitation. “We’ll be right back,” I tell Maggie.
She grins. “I’m just going to grab a drink. Berklee, you want anything?”
“No, thank you.” Her eyes never leave mine.
With her fingers laced through mine, I lead her behind the building that houses the restrooms. It’s not an ideal location, but it’s as private as we’re going to get considering our surroundings.
I guide her to where her back is against the building, cup her face in my hands and kiss her. She doesn’t fight it and kisses me back. Before I get carried away, I pull my lips from hers. “What’s this about?” I ask, tugging at the hem of the sweatshirt she’s wearing. The one with another man’s name on the back.
“What?”
“The sweatshirt.”
“Oh, it’s Barry’s. Maggie and I always steal them. They’re big and comfy,” she explains.
“It’s got his name on the back,” I growl.
“Are you jealous?” she asks, shocked.
“No. But we made a deal. Just us until this is done.”
“The deal that’s not even twelve hours old, that one? I haven’t violated the terms. Barry is my roommate. He’s my best friend’s older brother, and he’s a good friend of mine. I don’t see the problem with that.”
Truthfully, there shouldn’t be, but I can’t stand her wearing his name. “I don’t like his name on you,” I tell her. Honesty is always the best policy, even if it shows your hand before you’re ready.
Raising her hands, she places them on my cheeks. With a gentle tug she brings my face down to hers. “I don’t want him. It’s you I made the deal with. It’s you,” she says, softer this time.
My forehead rests against hers. “Can we leave now?” I ask. I’m deadly serious, but she laughs.
“No, we need to finish the game. Then we go to dinner at the place across the street.”
“All that before I get you in my bed?”
“Yeah.” Her hands drop from my face and she wraps me in a hug. A fucking hug. When was the last time a woman hugged me just to be hugging me, other than my mother? Berklee isn’t trying to seduce me; she’s just . . . being Berklee.
“Whatever you want, beautiful,” I give in. Not that it’s a struggle. In this moment I would give her anything she asked for.
“Okay, now we need to go back out there. And about PDA, what’s your take?”