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He keeps looking over at the bleachers like I’m going to magically appear and I can’t help that it makes me smile. But it falters as quickly as it forms.

I know this story. And the sweet bubbly feelings in my chest, well they don’t mean shit when the pit in my stomach grows.

I’m smarter than this.

But I want him.

The smile widens and I kick my foot up to hit the brick wall behind me when the guys start walking this way. Straight to the locker room I just happen to be standing in front of.

It gives me a sick sense of pleasure when Dean nearly trips as he catches sight of me.

He sees my smile too, which makes him narrow his eyes. I love this game. I love the way it makes me feel more than anything else.

Even if it is temporary.

“Stay right there,” Dean tells me, not slowing his pace as he walks right past me to go through the doors. “Just gotta grab something.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to nod. Doesn’t wait for any sign at all.

My jaw hangs open. Fucking dick.

The corners of my lips tip up slightly as I realize he won that round. I can hear a bell ding in my head and see him getting the point on the scoreboard. “Touché,” I mutter as the rest of the guys file in.

Why do I love that he’s such an asshole?

I’m left pondering that very question and kicking the dirt when I hear another voice.

“Well hello again, you enjoy the game?” Kevin Henderson asks me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He stops only a foot in front of me, watching as some of the other guys walk past him. I have to remind myself we’re not alone. Not really. The field is right behind us. The study group that was on the bleachers is still there. Still within earshot.

My shoulders move involuntarily into a shrug as I try to act casual and keep it light but flirtatious. It takes me a moment to look Kevin in the eyes and when I do, I make sure my lips kick up into a smile.

“Looked like a practice to me,” I tell him while my heart thuds once, then twice. It’s not a game.

He manages a half-smirk and he moves his thumb to the corner of his mouth before replying, “I thought you said it’s always a game?”

The pounding gets louder as my heart races and my blood turns to ice in my veins. I can picture how it would happen right now, how he’d pin me here against the brick wall, how my back would scratch against it. But it would have to be late. The skies would be black and my scream, when I finally did scream, would echo for miles.

“Didn’t you?” he asks me, his voice bringing me back to the moment and I have to carefully manage my composure, making sure I add a touch of shyness as I take the strand of hair in front of my face and tuck it behind my ear.

My eyelashes flutter as I tell him, “You have a good memory.”

“You dye your hair?” he asks me and my heart pangs. As if he knows who I used to be. “Why? Blondes have more fun, don’t they?” he says in jest before flashing me a smile and I struggle to respond. He’s just making random conversation. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yo,” Kevin says as he rips his eyes off of me and the sound of footsteps slowly coming to a stop greet me.

“Everything good?” I hear Dean ask, but I still don’t look in his direction. I can’t right now. Not after this little encounter.

It’s odd to feel as if I’ve betrayed him. As if I should feel guilty, and maybe that’s what this stirring of shame twisting in my gut is.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin plays it off and tells me, “Catch you later,” before half-jogging into the locker room.

“He giving you a hard time?” Dean asks me and when I hear Kevin’s sneakers skid across the cement pad in front of the doorway, I finally look up at Dean. And right into a possessive stare.

One that sees right through me.

His hard gaze makes me feel like my hand has been played. Like I can’t trust the words in my mouth.

“You want to tell me something?” he asks me and my bottom lip wobbles slightly. I want to tell him everything. I’m desperate to tell someone.

“Did you see him score?” Daniel’s voice interjects. When I peek up at him, Dean takes a step back, narrowing his eyes and focusing them on Daniel. “He said it was for you,” Daniel adds as he slips his arm around Dean’s shoulders and flashes me a charming smile, but I see right through it.

He’s a good liar. From what I’ve read, it’s a family trait of his.

“I saw a bit of the action,” I tell Daniel and then meet Dean’s stare to add, “I like watching him score.”

A flicker of humor touches his eyes but he doesn’t smile until I say, “I’m glad you guys are done though; I don’t like waiting for what I want.”

I shouldn’t have said it really. But I wanted to see him smile. I wanted it so bad that I lost track again. He makes me reckless.

“You heard her,” Dean says and slaps Daniel’s arm away.

“You made her wait long enough I guess,” Daniel says before walking off and nodding a farewell.

A short moment passes and I don’t know what Dean’s next move will be. And that makes me nervous.

“So you ready to go?” Dean asks me and I gawk at him.

“Go where?” I ask.

The muscles on his broad shoulders ripple as he moves the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and across his body.

“I just came to give you your shirt back.”

“That’s nice of you,” he says and then looks at my purse and my cheeks burn. I don’t actually have it with me. I just said that to make it difficult for him.

“So?” he asks and another breeze goes by, sending goosebumps up my arm. It’s colder in the evening and especially in the shadows.

“So what?”

“The shirt?” he asks and then adds, “Really it’s for you to hold on to until I can get you a new one.”

I shrug off the chill. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to though, you alright with that?” he asks like it’s a dare and my heart skips a beat as I’m caught in his heated gaze. He traps me so easily.

Luckily I’m saved by his next comment.

“I like being with you for some reason.” It’s a backhanded compliment. He’s such an asshole. But such a good-looking, playful one.

“Yeah, well, you’re an asshole jock and jocks aren’t my thing,” I tell him back just as dismissively. Both of us are smiling though. This is what I like about him.

“I’m not a jock,” he answers me.

I wait for him to comment on the asshole part and when he doesn’t I sputter out a small laugh.

I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around my chest as a gust blows my hair off my shoulder. Dean looks up and it’s as if that’s the cue for the sky to visibly darken.

“So where do you want to go?” he asks me.

“I’m not sure that’s smart.”

“It’s just a date.”

“I don’t think we should date. I don’t really do dating,” I lie. My gaze falls to his chest, moves to his shoes, then continues to the ground as I feel the truth of why I even bothered to go against my gut and show up to the field today. I push the hair back from my face as the breeze picks up and wish I’d worn a thicker coat.

The sound of Dean rustling in his duffle bag gets my attention, and he pulls out a jacket and hands it out to me. “Put it on,” he says and it’s clearly a command. Like a good girl I reach out for it, but then feel ridiculous and pathetic and drop my hand before I grab it.

“Dean, I’m not good for you.” I push the words out even though they hurt, even though they make me feel worse than just playing along.

“You’re cute Allie Cat, but that ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit isn’t going to work on me. I’m too used to being pushed away,” he tells me and I watch his expression as he realizes what he’s said.

“Come on, take it,” he urges, shaking the jacket and the memory of last night forces me to take it.

I’m silent as I put it on.

“So, date,” Dean’s voice calls out as he grips the strap with both of his hands and watches me slip on his jacket. It’s oddly warm for being so thin. “Where are we going?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and tell him, “I don’t date.”

“Just fucking then,” he says, nodding his head. “Your place or mine?” he asks with a cocky grin.

“I’m not here just so you can get in my pants,” I protest, trying desperately to clear my head and figure out what the hell I’m doing.

“Then why’d you come?” he asks me.

“I told you I just wanted to give you your shirt back,” I tell him but I can already see the spark of mischievousness in his eyes.

“I was talking about the other night, and it’s ‘cause you fucking loved it.”

I bat his chest as I turn away from him. “You’re awful,” I tell him, but when he slides up behind me, pulling my body close to his, I relax into his heat. I hear the wind blow behind us, but with my back to his chest, and my body facing the wall, not a bit of it touches my skin. Instead of a chill, I’m greeted with warmth as he gently nips my jaw and then releases me.

“You look good in my clothes,” he tells me when I turn to face him. His eyes freely roam down my body and the heat grows hotter in my cheeks.

“Thanks for the jacket,” I tell him and then watch as a few more guys leave the locker room. I cross my arms over my chest and peek up at him.

“I like you, Allison,” Dean says, taking a step forward. “I’m not going to let you get away so easily.”

My lungs still for a moment as his fingers brush along my face and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Maybe I’d like that,” I admit, saying the words out loud. But the moment I do, I’m certain I shouldn’t have said them.

“We’re gonna fuck, but I need to eat first,” he tells me. “And you’re coming with me.”

“So you’re taking me out to dinner?” I ask incredulously, although I’m not blind to the fact that it makes me happy. Truly. And that should bother me more than it does. All of this should bother me more than it does.

“Just feeding you, Allie Cat. Don’t read too much into it.”

“I thought we were just fucking?” I ask him.

“A man’s gotta eat.”

I huff a response, although the smile lingers on my lips. But only for a moment.