[Love in the End Zone 01.0] Out of Bounds Page 2

  Bash rubs his thumb along my jaw, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why was it a stupid idea to come to the game?”

  “Because you’re here,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes at him.

  I wiggle free from his grasp, our faces only inches apart as I break away from him. The sexual tension burns between us like a lit match. We share a short-lived moment with Bash staring at me as if I’m an actual person. For once. That is until his eyes find my breasts that are spilling out of this stupid football shirt, and he has the nerve to wink at my chest.

  “I see you haven’t changed,” I say, irritated. “Once a pig, always a pig.”

  “I’m a pig?” He laughs. “I’m a guy. I can’t help it that you have nice tits.”

  “You’re a pig. I think you had it right the first time.” I can’t help but smirk at him, feeling somewhat victorious after years of holding my tongue around him.

  How can I hate and like him all at the same time?

  As I sit up, Bash props himself up onto his elbow and reaches for my waist with his other hand. I swat him away before he can touch me. God knows I’d love to have Bash’s hands all over me again, but that ship has sailed. Despite my overwhelming attraction to him, I cannot allow myself to think of him in any way other than my shithead ex-boyfriend.

  “I always liked the fight in you. I see you haven’t changed.” Fire blazes behind those beautiful green eyes. Why am I even looking at him? Why even give him the time of day? He’s a fucking meathead jerk, plain and simple.

  The tiny bumps spread further down my arms and legs, a result of our proximity. And, of course, Bash notices the effect he has on me. He doesn’t skip a beat. Now aware of my body and how it reacts to him, I need an escape.

  “Bash, let’s go!” One of his teammates calls out from the field. “Get your ass out here, and stop trying to pick up chicks.”

  Laughter echoes around me, reminding me why I hate football and the assholes who play for this team.

  “Bash, let me take a look at her, and you get back on the field.” A blond-haired man dressed in a Strickland Senators tracksuit hovers over us with a medical bag slung over his shoulder.

  Bash tilts his head up at the middle-aged man and nods. He’s so athletic that when Bash grips his helmet and jumps up to his feet, he makes it look effortless. “Take good care of her, Doc. This one is special.” Bash says the last part while maintaining eye contact with me and slaps a big hand down on the team doctor’s back.

  As Bash stands above me, I’m desperate to stop the electricity pulsating through me. Every part of me aches for him, craves his touch. And every memory of the time we’d spent together floods through me. Even though I would never admit it aloud, I miss it. Miss him. He was such a good kisser. For a short time, he was nice, a good boyfriend, even. Until he changed. Or maybe I changed. I never understood why he did the things he did to me.

  With the helmet in his hand, Bash wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, his skin glistening in the sunlight. Eye contact proves to be too much for me. I can’t stand another minute around him. My willpower crumbles, and if we weren’t in a crowded stadium, I would be in trouble. That’s why I do crazy things like drop classes when I know he’s in them. Or change directions when I see him coming toward me on campus. It’s silly and childish, I know. But I have no control over myself when I’m with him.

  Bash pushes a hand through his hair. He could be posing for the cover of Sports Illustrated with the way he positions himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if that becomes a reality for him someday. He’s a good enough running back to play in the NFL, and he sure as hell has the looks to be on a magazine cover. And it doesn’t hurt that last year he was awarded The Heisman, making him an even bigger deal.

  Bash smiles at me. “I guess I’ll see at the house later.”

  I don’t respond to his comment. He takes my silence as an answer. Just by showing up with Jessica, he already knows I will be there. Before he puts on his helmet, I get one last wink from Bash, and then he walks onto the field.

  To say I have trouble catching my breath would be an understatement. I was holding it the entire time we were together. Combined with the pain in my head and the welt growing on my cheek, I hadn’t even noticed all the air Bash was sucking from the space around me.

  “I’m Dr. Holland,” the man says, getting down on one knee next to me on the ground. “I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion. You got hit pretty hard with the ball.”

  I feel like such an idiot, surrounded by an entire stadium of screaming fans, while the doctor nurses my bruised cheek. I’m always the girl who sings to her tune, so why would this be any different? I can never just blend into the crowd like everyone else.

  Once the game starts back up, no one notices me anymore. All eyes are on the field—as they should be. Thank God.

  “I’m sure I’ll be okay.” I press my fingers to my cheek and cry out in pain. It hurts like a bitch. “See, it’s just a bruise. I’m sure it will heal on its own. I don’t have a concussion.”

  Sitting behind me on the bench, Jessica squeezes my shoulder to let me know she’s still there. She doesn’t say a word as the doctor goes about his business.

  “Do you know your name?”

  I nod, making eyes at the doctor as if he’s crazy. “Yes. It’s Victoria Reynolds.”

  He shines a tiny flashlight in my eyes and does the obligatory check to make sure I’m okay. My double vision of the field is probably temporary, which is why I don’t bother to mention it. I’ve broken bones before. This is nothing.

  “Good. Do you know what today is?”

  “Saturday,” I say, hoping this doesn’t go on much longer. I hate unwanted attention. The last thing I need is for people to label me as Bash’s ex-girlfriend who made a scene at the season opener. The rumor mill will churn, same as always. If Bash so much as sneezes, the campus knows about it. And anyone seen with him is always a target.

  “Other than the bruised cheek, I’m fine,” I tell Dr. Holland, attempting to make my words sound believable.

  Ten minutes pass before Dr. Holland is satisfied with the outcome of his tests. Apparently, I don’t have any major signs of a concussion. I figured as much by the way my body responded to Bash alone. Or maybe I’m losing my shit. Because why on earth would I think of Bash in that way ever again? He still disgusts me. He should repulse me. Except he doesn’t. And I kind of hate myself for it.

  Helping me to my seat next to Jessica, Dr. Holland hovers over me with a concerned look in his eyes. “You don’t have any major warning signs, but that doesn’t mean your situation can’t change. I want you to be careful for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. No drinking, drugs, or any strenuous activity.”

  Jessica laughs but keeps her mouth shut. The last thing she needs to mention is the after party in front of the doctor.

  “No problem.” I give him a forced grin, even though my face and head hurt like hell, causing the lines on the field to blur. “Thank you.”

  “Take it easy, Victoria.” He smiles, then shoves his medical instruments into the leather bag. “You can have a delayed reaction. It happens to my players all the time. Don’t take anything I’ve told you for granted.”

  I feign a smile. “Of course.”

  “I’ll take excellent care of her, Doc,” Jessica chimes. She hooks her arm through mine, putting my biceps in a vise. “I won’t let anything bad happen to my bestie.”

  Dr. Holland hands me his business card. “Call me if anything changes. My cell phone number is on the back.”

  “I will. Thank you.” I stuff the card into my pocket as he walks away.

  “Is he serious about not being able to drink tonight? That ruins my plans.” Jessica sounds like a child complaining about not getting her way.

  I do an internal happy dance because I take this incident as a valid excuse to bail on the dreaded party. But Jessica doesn’t see it that way.

  “You have to come with me,” she says, her eyes
pointed at the field. She salivates over Clay. “You are not getting out of this that easily. We are a team.”

  I hold my hand up to my forehead, pretending to faint. “I think I feel something coming on.” Trying to hold back my laughter, I fail.

  “You’re not funny, Tori. I have been looking forward to this for weeks. We have it all planned out.”

  “No,” I correct her, “you have it all planned out. I just listen to you ramble on about how you’re having sex with Clay.”

  She presses her index finger to her lips and looks over her shoulder at the people behind us on the bleachers. “Shh! He would have a stroke if anyone heard you say that.”

  How Clay has waited this long to have sex with Jessica shocks the hell out of me. A guy like Clay—the starting quarterback of our team, good-looking, and rich—has girls throwing themselves at him all day long. Just like Bash. They’re practically twins. Jessica is beautiful beyond words, but I’m still surprised he hasn’t bailed, like his jerk of a friend did to me.

  “Calm down, Jess.” I stroke her forearm with my fingers. “I’ll make an appearance, but I can’t promise I will stay all night. I don’t feel good after getting smacked in the face and knocked down by Bash. He’s not a small guy, and the tip of the football hit me like a dart.”

  She lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m calm. Just glad that you’re not ditching me.”

  I force a closed mouth smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “But I understand if you need to leave,” she adds, with a hopeful expression on her face.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. This night is about Clay popping your cherry.” I chuckle at the last part. “I won’t let this ruin your celebration.”

  “You’re so vulgar.” She smacks me on the leg. “Why do you have to say things like that?”

  “You’re such a prude,” I counter. “And for someone so pure, I can’t believe you want to give up your V card at a football party.”

  She shrugs, her eyes focused on the game in front of us. “It’s an important night for Clay, and this is an important night for me. I don’t know. I just thought it would make it special for us.”

  “I don’t know how special it will be with music thumping through the house and drunk people humping each other’s legs in the living room.”

  Jessica rolls her eyes at me. “Easy for you to say. Bash made your first time something from a fairy tale.”

  I can’t deny it. Bash went all out, made me believe he was my Prince Charming. It turns out he was more like a toad.

  “But look what he did after. That’s all that matters anymore.”

  She doesn’t respond this time. Jessica knows the story better than anyone. It’s a shame Bash has his version. That’s the story everyone on campus knows. It’s also the story that turned him into a legendary ladies man and made me an outcast.

  As much as I’d love to use the pulse throbbing in my head as an excuse to go back to the dorm, eat junk food, and binge watch Netflix, I have to support my friend. So, I have no choice but to suck it up and deal with Bash and his stupid friends. It’s only a few hours.

  How much damage can he do?

  Chapter Three

  Bash

  We won our first game. I should be more excited after beating out my previous receiving record. But all I can think about is Tori and how hot she looked earlier. The first time I saw her, I had to have her. And I did. Until I let her get away. All because I had to fuck things up.

  After all the classes she’d spent ditching or dropping just to get away from me, Tori finally talked to me. About damn time. We severed ties at the end of freshman year. I ruined my chance with her, but it wasn’t my fault. Ever since we split, she hasn’t as much as glanced in my direction or acknowledged that we know each other when I see her on campus. Not like I can blame her. Things ended badly between us. But she doesn’t know the real story.

  Her disgust with me earlier only made me want to bend her over and fuck her senseless. Whether Tori realizes it or not, every guy on campus wants her. She’s the unattainable hot girl, mysterious and weird, and yet we all want a piece of her. I have a hard-on just thinking about her tanned skin, long legs, and blonde hair.

  She’s beautiful and oblivious to the way men on campus look at her, a quality that has always made her more attractive. I miss her. And on occasion, I find myself thinking about her more than I should. It’s hard not to. Tori is not the kind of girl you forget. But she hates me.

  Getting Tori to come to my house, after everything that had happened here, was always the hard part. With Clay’s girl guilt tripping Tori, I know she will show. Tori and Jessica are attached at the hip and never leave each other’s sides.

  My teammate, Shawn Finch, taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, man. What are you doing back here by yourself?”

  He’s a big guy, a few inches taller than my six foot two inches and much larger in the chest and arms.

  I’m not usually this anti-social. Somehow, I managed to wander off into the back of the house to the study after I tapped the keg. The house is huge, one of those old Victorians and large enough to get lost for a while if you don’t know where you’re going. I wanted to get lost.

  Facing the window, I turn around to look at Finch. “Nothing. I just needed a break from everyone.”

  “I hear ya. I get sick of all the people hanging around the Delta Sig house all the time.”

  “Frat life is a little different from sharing a house with the team.”

  “You try living in a house with sixty guys and see how you like it.”

  He’s got me there. We have ten football players living under one roof. That’s enough for me. Most days the house looks like a bomb went off, stinks of sweat and sex, and has a never-ending revolving door of girls coming through every night, who creep out the door in the morning.

  “I thought you’d want to know that Tori showed up with Jessica.”

  I shrug, nonchalant, even though I care that she’s here. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all night.

  “Dean is already hitting on her. That’s the other reason I thought you’d want me to come get you.”

  “No way in hell is he getting anywhere near her.” I get up from the windowsill and walk toward the door with Finch.

  By the time we reach the living room, the party is raging. Rap music cranks through the speakers suspended from the ceiling. The bass in the corners of the room vibrates beneath my feet, sending a tremor up my legs that go straight to my balls. A few dozen half-naked girls dance in front of me, trying to grind on my leg as I push through the crowd. But I’m on a mission. Find Tori.

  I spot her with Jessica and Clay. She looks bored standing next to a couple who have their tongues shoved down each other’s throats. Sexy as hell, Jessica was one of the few girls none of us had hooked up with until Clay made a play for her. She was a real cocktease. And a virgin. Only a handful of people knows that Clay has been waiting her out. She’d come to our parties with her friends, but she never put out. Her friends did, so at least there was that.

  Unlike Clay, I don’t chase girls. There’s no reason to seek them out when they plop down on my lap in class uninvited and follow me around campus. If you play a sport at Strickland University, people treat you like a celebrity. And football players are the cream of the crop.

  I have girls tugging at my arms, begging me to notice them. The only girl I see is Tori. She makes eye contact with me for a second, before turning her head away, unimpressed. I can already tell this will be a long night.

  Finch digs his elbow into my ribs, snapping me out of my head. “You gonna talk to her or just stand there and stare?”

  I snicker. “I’m getting there. I have to ease my way into it, or she’ll run away, like usual.”

  They say relationships take work. If that’s the case, chasing after Tori was like a full-time job. After she’d refused to hear me out, I let her go. What choice did I have? With footba
ll and everything I had going on, I didn’t have time to state my case. Not like she wanted to listen to a word I had to say. There were too many willing girls parading through campus to settle down. So I didn’t. I played the field. I still do. But Tori is different.

  Finch smirks, tugging at the edge of his T-shirt and runs a hand through his short blond hair. “You can’t tell me that you don’t wanna hit that again. If not, I volunteer as tribute.”

  Hearing those words come from Finch’s mouth incite a rage inside me. I’ve always felt possessive over Tori. I’m the reason she can’t get a date. No one would go near her after I had issued my warning. This school operates on power and money. I have both. And the two combined go a long way.

  Ignoring Finch’s comment, I move through the throng, dodging girls as I pass. The kitchen is just as packed as the living room with all the alcohol flowing. Harper Connelly, the president of Kappa, darts across the room flanked by two of her sorority sisters. Her hips have a gentle sway in a red dress that appears as if she taped it onto her tiny frame.

  Flicking her long hair over her shoulders, she flashes a set of pearly white teeth in my direction. An unusual gesture for Harper. So, she must want something.

  For a hot girl, she always looked pissed off. Even when I’m giving her the one thing she wants. The one thing I hate doing.

  “Hey, Bash.” Harper strokes my arm with her nails, forcing a smile. Her smiles are always fake. She’s the Queen Bitch of this campus and just as plastic as her Barbie-like appearance.

  She’s had a crush on me for years. And now I’m stuck with Harper, indebted to her because she knows my secret.

  “Harper”—I nod—“what’s up?”

  Harper glances at her sorority sisters, shooting them a knowing look, and turns back to face me. “Tori is here with Jessica.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, so.” I clear my throat and stand taller, more confident. “What’s it to you?”