“Don’t be too bitter, momma.”
“Don’t call me that again. I swear I’ll walk away.”
“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands, but he was grinning at me, his eyes playful. “I’ll stop.”
I crossed my arms, annoyed. “What do you need, Gibson?”
“I just wanted to check in on you.”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “I know I don’t.”
“Really. You don’t owe me anything. I don’t even know what I want from you.”
“I get that.” He stepped closer to me. Gibson was wearing gym shorts and a tight black T-shirt, a backpack slung over his back. His face was rugged and his eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept well the night before. “I don’t know what I want from you, either.”
“Oh yeah? You seemed to know last night.”
He smirked at me. “Okay, maybe I do know. I could lock that door and show you, if you want.”
“Good idea. Let’s make this even more complicated.”
“Sometimes complicated can be pretty fun. I think we both know you want me to slide those jeans off that nice ass of yours and lick that pussy until you can’t stay quiet anymore.”
I bit my lip and looked away. He was so arrogant, so entitled. This room was further proof that Gibson Evans got whatever he wanted just because he was some football star.
But I couldn’t deny the thrill running through my spine and how soaking wet my panties were.
“It’s a library,” I said. “I think we’ll just stick to being polite and quiet right now.”
“Your loss. I bet we could break a lot of rules right now if you wanted to.”
“Look, you checked up on me, okay? I’m going back to studying now.”
“Wait,” he said, and took my arm. I looked up at him. “Hold on. I wanted to say something else.”
“What?” I asked, surprised at his touch.
“I don’t know what I want from you, either, but I do know what I want for that kid inside you.”
“Okay,” I said, even more surprised at his intensity.
“I’m going to be a better father than I ever had. So if you need something, you ask me. As for the kid, I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Gibson,” I said.
“Sure.” He let go of my arm. “I just needed you to know that. Whatever happens between us, that’s my kid.”
“I appreciate that.” I felt so uncomfortable, but I didn’t know why.
“Before you run off, I still want to see you tonight.”
“Okay,” I said. “I can do that. When and where?”
“Meet me at the same spot around seven.”
“Don’t you have tutoring?”
He shrugged, that grin slowly coming back. “I’ll skip it for you.”
“Thanks so much, but don’t get in trouble for me.”
“I’m already getting in trouble because of you. I might as well have a little fun with it.”
I sighed. “Bye, Gibson.”
“See you later then, momma.” He grinned at me.
I shook my head, frustrated, turned, and left, walking away fast. I felt hot and stuffy, and I needed to get out of that room.
The way he looked at me made me completely flustered. He talked to me like an arrogant asshole, but every once in a while he seemed to let his guard down, and there was something else behind that cocky grin.
I didn’t know what I wanted from him, but as I sat back down in my seat and opened up my textbook, I felt a little bit better.
He wanted to be there for this baby. In the end, that was all that really mattered.
I just wished he wasn’t such an asshole.
5
Gibson
The ball left my hand like an old friend. It spiraled through the air, tight and controlled. Drinkwater caught it as he broke left in his post route.
“Good throw,” Coach said. He tossed me another ball. “Again.”
Jamie Roy was up next. He ran the same route as Drinkwater, breaking left at the same spot, and caught the ball in stride. I could make that throw ninety-nine times out of a hundred, especially with no pressure.
But during a game, it was different. The pads felt heavier, the crowd was screaming, and big, muscle-bound idiots were barreling toward me, trying to smash me into the dirt. I had to make pinpoint-accurate throws while the whole fucking country watched and judged my every motion.
Which was why we did it over and over in practice. Coach was going to drill these throws into my skull to the point where I didn’t have to worry about the pressure on game day; my arm would just know what to do.
“Again,” he said, tossing me another ball.