I laugh against my will. Matty’s too good at finding the cracks in my armor—as if I even have armor against him. “They don’t have letterman jackets at Western.”
“It’s the internet age. I’m sure I can find some seller somewhere to whip me up one. We’ll have matching jackets. Mine can say ‘property of Lucy Watson’ and yours can say ‘property of Matty Iverson.’” He leans back again and looks off into the distance as if envisioning us in some weird Grease production wearing his version of promise rings. “I like that. You think you’d be open to getting a tattoo of my name on your ass?”
“No. No. And also no,” I reply firmly.
“Yeah, I thought that was a bridge too far. But I’m getting you that jacket and you’re wearing it and you’re going to like it.”
“I am, am I?”
“Yeah.” He looks down at me pensively, his grin fading away. “I’m really sorry for hurting you. This thing between you and…” He won’t say Ace’s name, and somehow his jealousy, no matter how wrong it is, soothes my battered pride. “It’s a tangle, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have genuine feelings for you or that we can’t be together.”
“When I saw my name and all of that stuff, I felt violated. I don’t want to feel that way again.”
“It was shitty. No excuses.”
“Don’t hurt me. Don’t make a fool of me.”
“I won’t. I’m not playing here. You’re not a game to me.”
I draw a shaky breath. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until those words came out of his mouth.
He draws my stiff body against his and holds me there for a long time until I relax. He doesn’t make any move to take off my clothes or kiss me or try to use my attraction for him against me, and that goes further in soothing my hurt than even his words do.
“The Outland Trophy? Why not the National Championship?”
“Because the Outland Trophy’s an individual award. I can’t swear on a team achievement, Luce.”
Well, duh. I chuckle. He laughs, and it seems like we’ve weathered the storm.
27
Lucy
Matty convinces me to skip classes, which I rarely do, but I only have two today, and I’m über responsible every other day of the year. I’m wrecked emotionally from this morning and wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway.
There are a few guys on defense I haven’t met before, and Matty introduces me around. Hammer tries out some web lists he’s working on after I tell him that “spa day” as a euphemism for sex doesn’t work.
“I’m working on an article about the top ten foods that look like dildos,” he says as he works the controller to launch a shot on goal. I block him easily. I played a lot of this with Ace when we were in middle school and junior high. I haven’t forgotten my skills.
“Ew, no. I’m not sticking a cucumber up my lady passage.” I dribble past him, break a few of his players’ ankles, and score.
“Sausage casing?”
“Gross.”
“Shit. How are you so good at this?” He looks over at Matty. “This isn’t fair. You bring a ringer into our house to stomp me?”
Matty shrugs and shoves a carrot into his mouth. His refrigerator is surprisingly full of things I can eat without much worry. Lots of non-sugary vegetables. Some vegan dip. It’s really impressive. I don’t have a lot of extra money to keep my fridge stocked with fresh goodies like this. Matty even shoved me out of the kitchen and told me to go play with Hammer while he prepared everything.
I’m enjoying being pampered. Maybe this is a spa day.
“Let’s switch gears,” Hammer suggest. “How about ‘perfumed palace’”?
“Better.” I pop a cucumber slice into my mouth.
“Scented cavern?”
“Cavern borders on rude.” I flick my thumb over the toggle and steal the ball.
“What do you think of ‘secret garden’”?
“Way to ruin my favorite childhood book.” The ball goes sailing into the corner. Hammer and I race to get it.
“Och, lassie, you needn’t worry naught for nothing,” Matty intones.
I set down my controller. “What was that?”
“Yorkshire accent,” he says with mock offense.
“Sounded like a southern accent with a touch of Canadian. In others words, not Yorkshire.”
“So no dirty talk with an accent?”
“No.”
“Ohh, you guys do the dirty talk?” Hammer crows. “That’d be a great article. Say a few lines for me,” he orders.
“No!” I give Matty a stern look that says if he opens his mouth right now, I’m shoving the entire vegetable tray in it.
He snaps his mouth shut. “Sorry, Hammer. No can do.”
“Man, bros before hoes,” Hammer mutters.
Later we watch a movie. During a particularly hot love scene, Matty gets up abruptly and hauls me into the bedroom. I might have been rubbing his dick under the blanket.
“You are going to pay for all that teasing.” He bends me over the bed and kicks my feet apart. Like I imagine it would be like if I got arrested. Suddenly, the image of hot Matty in a police uniform appearing at my apartment door pops into my head. I get a little excited. Okay, a lot excited.
Matty notices. “What’s got you all turned on?”
He rubs a hand over my ass.