Didn’t work.
Summer. A summer wedding.
Perfect.
My mind wandered to what it would be like being married, or even being in love. I couldn’t imagine it—what my ideal girl would look like, what the hell we would talk about, if she would be able to cope with my mood swings, my past.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of my dark mood, hearing laughter and music down below me in the yard. Kegs were popping, folks were doing shots, but none of it appealed, and to top it all off, I still smelled Molly’s vanilla scent on my shirt.
Damn.
I kinda liked her. The way she kissed, the way she clung to my hair, pulling me close with her fists, and, mostly, the way she wasn’t fazed by all the football shit, didn’t look at me and instantly think, Tide QB, must try and tame.
I was in the middle of chastising myself for thinking too much about Molly when suddenly, the door to Ally’s room clicked open, and I craned my neck to try and see who was there. “Al, that you?”
There was no answer, so I got to my feet, ready to kick out whichever horny bastards had sneaked in. I just wanted to be left alone. I walked into the bedroom and stopped dead.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear, I thought idly.
Molly. Fucking English Molly, gripping the bedpost in shock. Molly in a tight, figure-baring toga, staring at me with those huge, stunning eyes, and Christ, if her hanging on to that post didn’t give some pretty interesting ideas.
“This room is off-limits, Mol,” I said gruffly as I zoned in on her full lips and caught the way her eyes drank in my bare arms. She was affected by me.
Good, not just me, then.
I quickly took a swig of my beer to stop the nerves. I felt nervous for the first time in my friggin’ life, and that never happened—not in football, not even when dealing with my folks—but here we were, a geeky librarian with shit dress sense weirdly unnerving me.
She lifted a key into the air and said quietly, “Yeah, I know. Ally gave me her key to use her bathroom.” I stared at her for a moment longer and turned back to the balcony, needing to put some space between us… and get away from Ally’s damn inviting bed.
Once back outside, I pulled out my chair, propped my legs up on the table, and fought my conflicted feelings. I couldn’t get the idea of inviting her here on the balcony out of my head, but I knew I should leave it and not give in to my want.
I have ten months left, I reminded myself again. I couldn’t let anything fuck that up, not even pretty English girls with the innate ability to harden my cock on sight.
Resolute to just let my interest in her go, I settled back, once again watching the crowd below. I chuckled as I watched Jimmy-Don get hit on by the female equivalent of him: big, loud, and country to the core. The girl walked straight up to him, hooked her arm around his neck, and planted a wet one right on his shocked lips. Jimmy-fucking-Don, the best guy I knew: kind, funny, and loyal to a fault. I was happy he was finally getting some, even if the girl, from up here, looked as scary as shit.
My ears pricked when I caught the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut, and I had a decision to make: let Molly slip away, no harm done, or seize the day and get her out here with me, actually find out her deal.
Insanity won out and before I could stop myself, I quickly shouted, “Mol?”
But there was only silence from the bedroom. My feet slammed to the ground and my head whipped in the direction of the doors. “Mol?” Had she left already?
“Yeah?” a timid voice finally sounded from inside.
Exhaling in relief and putting all my worries aside, I asked, “You wanna hang out here for a while… with me?”
“Yeah… okay.”
We’d been sitting out on the balcony, just talking. I don’t think I’d ever been alone with a chick that long before without getting naked. Girls came to me for one thing: a good fuck. But this was different. I kinda wanted to get to know this girl beyond the bedroom.
After watching her almost down her bottle of Bud, she asked, “So why are you up here hiding out?”
“Don’t feel it tonight.”
She dropped her hand to her chest and gasped, “Mr. All-star Quarterback doesn’t want to mix with his adoring fans?”
Every ounce of me froze. She’d found out I played football—perfect.
I ripped off the label of my beer; it was that or launch the brown glass at the wall. “Well, that didn’t take long. Who told you?”
“Lexi and Cass.”
“Who?” I asked in a far-from-friendly tone.
Her eyes dropped and she fiddled with her hands again. “My roommates, they told me after we… erm, after we… you know…”
“Kissed?”
“Erm… yeah.”
“So what did they say about me?” I pushed.
“That you were the Romeo Prince, quarterback extraordinaire for the Crimson Wave and that you were the Prince William of college football, yada, yada, yada…”