I Bet You(14)

I tower over him, inching into his space until I hope he smells my toothpaste. “Keep all this talk up and you’re going to get hurt.”

He laughs, a bit shrilly, and bounces away from me on the balls of his feet. “Whatever. It’s all in good fun. Now, get back out there and try again, buddy. You’re letting her get away with some guy who can’t hold a candle to you—supposedly.”

Then he’s gone, vanishing down the hallway with Sasha by his side, leaving me fuming and ready to punch a hole in the wall. I settle for raking a hand through my hair.

Why do I let him get to me?

Because everything is getting to you now.

And something is going to crack.

It’s going to crumble around me, and there won’t be anything I can do about it.

I close my eyes briefly until a very Southern female voice interrupts me.

“Ryker? Oh, goodness. How are you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

I whip around, and it’s Margo…something. Maybe she’s been lurking here for a while—I can’t tell. I can’t think of her last name, but I recall what I know about her: last year she dated some rich dude who screwed her over for a Theta. Apparently, she caught him red-handed at a party. I can’t recall all the details, but the rumor mill ran rampant.

“You’re just the person I wanted to see,” she adds. A slow smile breaks over her face as she eats me up with her eyes.

Okay.

I know a come-on when I see it.

We don’t usually chat, but I’ll bite.

“What’s up?” I ask, looking down in bemusement as she crooks her hand into the bend of my elbow and leads me over to the side next to the wall where we’re out of the way of foot traffic. I’ve never taken her for the flirtatious type, or as one to dress skimpily—she’s more of a CEO type—but today she’s showing off, wearing three-inch heels and a short white sundress.

My ego is still a bit bruised from being brushed off for Connor, and that’s what makes me malleable as she delicately and briefly fingers one of the buttons on my shirt. “You know, I’ve always loved how you dress. Even though you’re this big strong football player, you certainly have style. Where do you shop?”

“Anywhere that has big and tall,” I say dryly. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” That isn’t about fashion? “I have a class to get to.”

She smiles again and leans in closer until I smell her perfume, something flowery and sweet. It’s nothing like Penelope’s candy scent—dammit, why am I even thinking about her right now?

Rein it in, Ryker. Rein it in.

She laughs up at me, big eyes wide. “I just wanted to say hi. We had a class together last semester, but you were always so covered up in girls I never really got to talk to you.”

Uh-huh. Margo’s the kind who gets what she wants if she wants it bad enough, and she’s never made an attempt to talk to me.

“Well, here I am, ready and waiting. Let’s talk.” I give her a cocky grin. I can flirt with the best of them, and if it helps me forget that this year is sucking so far, so be it.

She preens. “I think you’re an excellent football player. The way you throw the ball…and stuff.”

Stuff? I scratch my forehead. Is she serious?

From behind me, I hear the sarcastic tones of Penelope’s voice. I turn around and sure enough, she’s standing there, minus Connor.

Her hand goes to her hip. “Well, don’t you guys make the perfect Ken and Barbie.” She says it completely without malice, but there’s a glint in her smoky gray eyes as she measures the distance between Margo and me.

Margo takes her in, her lips pressing together tightly. “Hello, Penelope.”

I sense tension and straighten. “You two know each other?” They eyeball each other like two dogs after the same bone. “Aren’t you both Chi Os?”

“And stepsisters—since last year,” Penelope says tightly.

Margo nods. “My mom married her dad, Professor Wainwright.”

Professor Wainwright? My eyes flare. But he and Penelope don’t have the same last name…

“The psychology teacher?” He’s also the chair of the department and my guidance counselor. I have a meeting with him soon to make sure I’ve got my credits together for graduation. A graduate of Waylon back in the day, he was a quarterback in the NFL for a few years.

Penelope gives me a short nod. “It’s not something I go around telling people.” She shrugs, a hard set to her face. “I barely know my dad. I happen to know a lot about football because I like the sport.”

Ah. I know what it’s like to barely know a parent. My mom left my dad when I was three and has been floating in and out of my life ever since. She only comes around when she’s in between boyfriends and has nothing better to do. The last time I saw her was over two years ago at a football game in Austin, where I’m from. Despite the fact that I’m the quarterback, she’s never been to a game here at Waylon. From watching the myriad of emotions flitting across Penelope’s face, it seems we have that dynamic in common.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Margo says to Penelope.

“It can wait.”

Margo narrows her eyes. “I wanted to speak with Ryker alone.”

Penelope stiffens and looks back at me, her eyes gazing at me accusingly.

The arch in my eyebrow says, Are you jealous?

Never in a million years, her smirk replies.

Then why the dirty looks?

She grits her teeth.

“I thought you’d already gone inside to sit with Dimpleshitz,” I say pointedly.

“I did. I came out to find you.”

Oh.

“Why?”

She eyes Margo and chews on her lip, obviously contemplating.

Did things go south with Dimpleshitz?

I’m about to ask her when Margo stumbles in her heels—how do you do that standing still?—and I reach out and grab her. She melts in my arms. “Thank you, Ryker. You’re so strong.” She bites her lower lip and pushes out her tits. My eyes, of course, go straight down to her cleavage. I’m human, after all.

I glance over at Penelope, who’s glaring at me.

What?

“No worries,” I say to Margo, setting her right. “Is there something else you wanted?”

She clears her throat, her hands fluttering. “Yes, as I was saying earlier…I think you’re the best player in the country, and no one is more disappointed than me that you aren’t being considered for the Heisman this year.”

She definitely has my attention now. I frown. “The award isn’t everything,” I say, even if it so is.

“Good Lord, he could still win. He was cleared by the NCAA. How many times do I have to tell people?” Penelope says rather loudly.

“Are you…defending him?” Margo asks, an incredulous look on her face.

Penelope shrugs. “Even if he doesn’t get the Heisman, he’s going to be a top pick in the draft. That’s nothing to sneer at.”

“But he did the betting thing to you.”

“I’m right here,” I add dryly.

Penelope looks at Margo. “And he apologized and has made up for it. Once I forgive someone, it’s over and done. We’re moving on. Isn’t that right?” Her smoky eyes meet mine, and fuck, my heart kicks up a notch. My gaze drifts over her porcelain complexion, taking in the curls that fall around her shoulders. I stare at her lips, remembering that kiss.

She’s not for you.

I swallow. “Yeah.”

Margo lets out a heavy sigh, and this time her hand on my arm is insistent as she tugs. “Whatever.” She focuses back on me. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Chi Omegas are having a huge—”

“Willyoucometothehomecomingpartywithme?” Penelope asks rapidly, running the words together as she stands with her hands clenched.

I whip my gaze back to her. “What?”

Did she just ask me to go to a party with her?

She nods. “It’s a homecoming party at the Chi O house after the game. I know you usually go to the Tau house…” Her voice drifts off and she fidgets.

I grin at her, giving her the full golden boy charm. “I’d love to, babe.”

She grimaces at the endearment. “And I invited you,” she adds, a scowl on her face as she sends a triumphant look at Margo.

“Whatever floats your boat.” I turn more fully toward her, hoping Margo will take the hint and move away, but she doesn’t. “What about Dimpleshitz?” I ask. “Is he going to be okay with that?”

She looks confused and waves me off. “I invited him too…just now. I was coming out to tell you. Aren’t you proud of me? I mean, I was nervous, but he asked me out, so I think he’s really into me. It gave me the confidence I needed.” She smiles.

A frown scrunches my forehead. “I see. So I’m not your date?”

Penelope gives me an unsure look. “No. We can invite as many people as we want. We want to have a better party than the Thetas, and Margo insists we ask the most popular A-list students to come to the party. You’re my pick.”

A muscle ticks in my jaw. I get it now. I’m just a commodity. A means to an end. Get the popular jock there and everyone else will follow.

“Dudes! What’s going on?” Blaze calls out as he waves. Dillon is next to him, the backup quarterback from Alabama with dreadlocks and a killer smile. They jog over to us, faces expectant. Carefree. Maybe that was me at some point but not anymore.