"I'll just be a few minutes," I say over my shoulder as he starts to climb out of his truck.
"I'll come with you," Crew says, ignoring my hint that he should stay behind.
Running up the steps, I unlock the door and race down the hall to my room. I slip out of my skirt and heels, then grab jeans, my Garrison High T-shirt and a hoodie. This time, I wear the one Crew bought a few weeks ago. I smile knowing it'll make him happy. I don't bother with my hair or makeup; it's just a football game. Finding a pair of boots in the bottom of the closet, I make my way back to the living room. I expect to find Crew hanging out on the couch, but he's standing in front of the two built-in bookcases on either side of the TV. In his hands is a picture of Barry and me for his senior prom. "He hated being all dressed up, but his mom insisted that they never miss a rite of passage," I comment, stopping to stand beside him.
"Were you his date?" he asks with a tick in is jaw.
I laugh. "Hardly. I'm wearing jeans. Did you miss that little aspect of the picture?" Crew shrugs and places the photo back on the shelf. I point to the one right beside it, identical except it's Maggie held tight against him in a bear hug instead of me. "Same day."
"Hmm" is his reply. Finally he turns to face me. A slow sexy smile pulls at his lips when he sees my hoodie. He reaches out for me but he's too slow; I saw it coming and jumped back.
"We need to go. We're going to miss kickoff the way it is."
He grumbles but doesn't argue as he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the truck. Instead of the passenger door, he brings me to the driver's side and opens it up. "Hop in," he says with a light pat to my ass. I jump, not expecting it. "Don't go far," he says, climbing in behind me. He slides behind the wheel, places his hand on my thigh and pulls me toward him. "Too far away."
"This isn't a good idea. What if someone sees us? We discussed this."
Reaching over me, he slides the seat belt around my waist and makes sure it's secure. Looking up, I find him staring at me. He's so close I can see the small specks of gold in his brown eyes. "What we agreed on is that we would spend time together intimately. This week I've not had any time with you. None. Zero, Zilch. That's not okay with me. You have plans, and now those plans are mine." He kisses the corner of my mouth. "And fuck them. I don't care who sees."
With that, he starts the truck and pulls out of the driveway.
I KEEP MY hand on her thigh. Not once do I lift it for any reason. I may not be able to fuck her tonight, but you can bet your ass I'm going to touch her.
I meant what I said. I don't give a fuck who sees. If they have an issue they can look the other way. I'm going to drive myself crazy trying to keep my hands off her. It's not worth the effort or my sanity.
Climbing out of the truck, I hold my hand out for her. She takes it without hesitation and slides out. I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her to the gate. She reaches for her purse, "I got this, babe," I whisper next to her ear before digging my wallet out and finding a twenty.
"This isn't a date," she says softly.
"You don't pay with me. Ever." I kiss her temple and we head to the bleachers. "Same section?" I ask, bending so she can hear me over the crowd.
"Yeah." She nods.
We reach the end of the section and Berklee heads up the steps. I fight like hell to not come off as a creeper and stare at her ass; her family is here, after all.
"Hey, baby girl," her dad says.
He was at the last game, but I was a mere acquaintance then. At that time I'd not been inside her. Felt what it was like for her to be wrapped around me and let go. That changes things. So, tonight, I offer him my hand. "Good to see you, sir," I say.
"You too, son. You two just get off work?" he asks.
"Yeah, we had bartending training all week," Berklee explains.
"Oh, how did it go?" her mom asks.
"Sit, babe," I say, pointing to the bleachers. She grins at me and sits next to her dad. I take the very end right beside her. Berklee is in full conversation with her parents, so I try to focus on the game until my phone vibrates. Pulling it out of my pocket, I see Zane's name.
Zane: Didn't know you were coming.
Me: Yeah.
Zane: Pussy whipped.
My finger hovers over the screen. I can't help but chuckle because he's right. Although it's more Berklee-whipped, if you want to be one hundred percent accurate. It's everything about her that draws me in: those curls, her lips, that tight ass, her personality. I could go on and on.
Me: Don't knock it until you try it.
Zane: Is that you giving me permission to try Berklee?