The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(15)
“Sweetheart, I’m not asking for a Broadway show. I just want you to shake your tits and ass in my face. Maybe rub up on me a bit—”
That’s it. I’ve had enough.
I don’t miss Fitzy’s look of confusion as I push out of my chair and march over to the Douche Table.
“She said no,” I growl.
The main douche smirks at me. “She’s a fucking stripper, dude.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “She said no,” I repeat.
From the corner of my eye I see Sabrina edge backward.
“Where do you get off?” Douchecanoe demands. “Mind your own business or I’ll—”
The chair legs behind me scrape against the floor, and Douchecanoe shrinks in his seat as over six hundred pounds of angry hockey players stare down at him. Fitzy is particularly menacing with his two full-sleeve tattoos and the cut over his eyebrow that he got during our last game.
“You’ll what?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“Nothing,” the frat boy says sullenly.
“That’s what I thought.” I bare my teeth at the assholes before the boys and I settle back in our chairs.
It takes me a second to realize that Sabrina is halfway across the room. She turns, briefly, to glance at our table. When our gazes meet, there’s unmistakable sorrow in hers.
Before I can stop myself, I pull out my phone and send her a quick text. I don’t know if she still has me blocked, but it can’t hurt to try.
I’m sorry about that.
I don’t expect a reply, so when my phone buzzes three minutes later, I’m genuinely surprised. But then I’m pissed, because she texted back:
Did u follow me here?
It takes me a minute to regroup. I sip my beer, take a breath, and then answer her with, Meet me at the restrooms?
This time she responds right away.
5 min.
For the next four minutes, I have to force myself not to stare at my phone. Or set a timer. Impatience bubbles in my gut, intensifying with each passing second. By the time I rise to my feet, I’m tense as fuck.
“Hitting the head,” I mutter, but the guys pay me no attention. Hollis and Brody are too busy shoving dollar bills in a stripper’s G-string, while Fitzy watches them with a bored expression.
I thread my way through the crowd of mostly men toward the doorway on the other side of the dark room. Boots & Chutes has gone overboard with the western theme—saloon-style doors separate the bathrooms from the main room, and the wooden signs on the restrooms read Gunslingers and Fillies. From behind the Fillies door, I hear the muffled sounds of female moans intermingled with male grunts. Classy.
“So, did you?”
I whirl around at Sabrina’s voice. She stalks up to me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a way that causes her cleavage to spill over her bra.
“Follow you here, you mean?” I flatten my lips. “No, darlin’, I did not.”
She studies me for several seconds before nodding. “Okay. I believe you.” Then she turns to walk away.
Oh hell no.
“Sabrina,” I say in a low voice.
She stops. “W-what?”
Something inside of me melts when I hear the crack in her voice. She keeps her back to me, her spine like a metal rod. By the time I reach her, any indignation I felt over her unfair assumption has faded away. I gently touch her arm to shift her around so we’re facing each other.
“Sabrina?” I keep my voice soft, safe.
She visibly swallows. “This is where I work.”
I give a slow nod. “This is where you work.”
“That’s it? You’ve got nothing else to say about that?”
I stroke her bare shoulder with the pad of my thumb, gratified to feel her shiver. “This is your place of employment. You get paid to work here. You use those paychecks to pay your bills, I’m assuming. What else do you want me to say?”
But I know what she expected from me. Judgment. Contempt. Maybe a lewd comment or two.
I’m not that man, though.
She keeps watching me, until finally a small smile plays on her gorgeous lips. “I’m waiting for the part where you tell me you never come to these places, your friends just dragged you here against your will, yada yada.”
“I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been to a strip club. But I kind of did get dragged here tonight—I voted for the sports bar. And the only reason I even came to Boston was because…” I trail off, because the last thing I want to do is scare her off again.
“Because what?”
Fuck it. I shrug and say, “I was hoping maybe I’d run into you.”
Sabrina laughs. “Boston’s a big place—you really expected to randomly run into me?”
“Expected, no. Hoped? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
That gets me another laugh.
We stare at each other for a beat. My voice comes out gravelly as I murmur, “You unblocked my number.”
“I unblocked your number,” she agrees.
Then she moistens her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and I swallow a groan. Fuck, I want to kiss her.
“I should…get back to work.”
There’s only the tiniest sliver of reluctance in her words, but a sliver is all I need. “When do you get off?”
“Two.”
“Do you want to hang out when you’re done?”
She doesn’t answer right away. I stand there, holding my breath, hoping that the raw, overpowering lust I feel for her doesn’t show on my face, praying that she’ll say—
“Yes.”
9
Tucker
I wait for Sabrina in the parking lot. Almost all the cars are gone, except for a half dozen that probably belong to the employees. The guys went back to Brody’s apartment a couple hours ago, where they’ll probably stay up all night drinking. I told them I was meeting a girl for a late bite, which got me a high-five from Hollis even as he griped about what a shitty person I was for not making sure she had a friend.
After they dropped me off at an all-night diner a few blocks from the club, the site of my supposed date, I killed an hour by grabbing a burger and chugging some coffee so that I wouldn’t fall asleep within five minutes of seeing Sabrina. Then I walked back to Boots & Chutes, and now I’m leaning against the driver’s side of Sabrina’s Honda, monitoring the front entrance in anticipation.
When she appears, my excitement kicks up a notch. She’s wearing a wool coat that goes down to her knees. Below that, her legs are bare.
My dick twitches as I wonder if she’s still wearing those booty shorts. Then I chastise myself, because I could tell how embarrassed she was earlier by the skimpy outfit.
“Hey,” she says as she reaches me.
“Hey.”
I want to kiss her, but she’s not sending any c’mere, big boy signals. I need to touch her, though, so I step closer and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Hesitating, she bites her lip. “Where are we going?”
“Where do you want to go?” I’m leaving the decision entirely up to her.
“Are you hungry?”
“Nope. Just ate. You?”
“I had an energy bar during my last break.”
I wink at her. “You thought you’d need energy, huh? Why’s that?”
Her cheeks take on the cutest shade of pink. I see her fighting a smile, and when it breaks free, I do an internal fist pump. She’s so gorgeous when she smiles. I really wish she’d do it more often.
She glances around. “Your truck’s not here.”
“Yeah, it’s back in Hastings. We drove up in Fitzy’s car.”
She nods and nibbles on her lip again. “I…well…what should we do, then?”
“No pressure.” I move even closer, loosely resting one hand on her hip while the other traces the line of her jaw. My pulse speeds up when she doesn’t shy away from my touch. “We can walk around. Just chill in the car and talk. Whatever you want.”
Sabrina lets out a sigh that leaves a white puff in the cold night air. “I don’t feel like walking. It’s cold out and my feet hurt from being on them all night. And my car is way too small for you. You’d be uncomfortable in five seconds.”
“Do you want to go back to your place?”
She tenses up. “Not really.” Another breath slides out. “I don’t want you to…”
“To what?”
“I don’t want you to see where I live.” She sounds defensive. “It’s shitty, okay?”
My heart squeezes a little. I don’t respond, because I’m not sure what to say.
“Well, not my bedroom,” she relents. “That’s not shitty.”
Sabrina goes silent, as if she’s fighting some internal battle.
“I meant what I said before,” I tell her in a soft voice. “No pressure. But if you’re worried that I’m going to judge where you live, stop right now. I don’t care if you live in a mansion or a shack. I just want to spend time with you, wherever and whenever.”
When I rub her lips with my thumb, the tension seeps out of her shoulders. “Okay,” she finally whispers. “Let’s go to my house.”
I search her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’d rather be somewhere warm and cozy right now. Not that my house is warm and cozy, but it’s definitely warmer in there than it is out here.”