So what do you want to do tonight?" Scarlett asks as everyone files out of Music Theory.
I shrug, "Nothing really. I'm supposed to meet up with Wyatt for tutoring this evening, but I'm free until then. Why?"
"I was hoping we could go check out a club someone told me about the other day." She's pouting, but I really do need to study.
"Sorry Scar, I have a big Algebra test tomorrow and if I fail, Wyatt's promised he'll come up with something really horrible for me to do as punishment. Since I don't like punishment, and I'm terrified of what he might come up with, I'm going to make sure I pass... even if I have to offer sexual favors to the teacher."
Scarlett brightens at that thought, "Ooh, you know what? I read a book about that the other day --" I quickly cut her off. Those kinds of thoughts are the last ones I need before going to meet Wyatt tonight.
"Uh-uh, just stop right there!" I order. "You need new reading material!"
Realizing what's going through my mind, Scarlett doubles over in laughter, "Oh. My. God! You should totally see your face right now! I didn't know you were such a dirty girl!"
"Shut it," I snap. "We so don't need to have this conversation."
Scarlett continues to snicker while we head back to the dorms to meet up with Annabelle and Kat for dinner.
Dinner is basically just a "pick on Peyton about Wyatt" event, leaving me extremely agitated by the time Scarlett drops me off at the gym to meet Wyatt. His practice should have been over twenty minutes ago, but I don't see him or any of the other players hanging around outside either. Right now, I've only got two choices, either sit out here alone while it gets dark, or go inside and wait for Wyatt to be finished. Honestly, I'm not sure which is the more dangerous option. If I stay outside, I'm in the dark and by myself which means anything could happen. If I go inside to watch the rest of practice, I'm going to see Wyatt in a basketball uniform, or at least shorts and a t-shirt, sweaty. It also means I'll be seeing his muscles work which will just make him even harder to resist.
It doesn't take long for me to realize that staying outside isn't a good option. It's still winter, and at 7pm, it's completely dark outside. The longer I sit on this bench, the colder and more freaked out I get. Soon, I am jumping at every little sound and telling myself that someone is watching me. Hurrying inside I realize I was only really outside for about five minutes. Yeah, I'm Peyton the badass alright. Taking a seat on a bleacher as far away from the guys practicing as I can, I decide to enjoy this little bit of sweaty-guy watching. I mean, they're basketball players, so they are all tall, toned, and sexy, even with the sweat rolling down their bodies and their hair matted to their heads.
The guys are all standing single file, taking turns throwing the ball at the hoop, well "shooting" the ball... I think that's what it's called. I'm not up on my "basketball lingo", I've never needed to know anything about it. Each guy throws the ball ten times before moving to the back of the line. The majority of the guys get six or seven shots in out of ten, but when it's Wyatt's turn, he only misses once! Like an idiot, I stand up and yell, "Go Wyatt!" His head snaps up to look for me, and when he finds me on the far side of the gym he smiles, happy that I'm watching him. They continue to cycle through, and on Wyatt's next turn up, he only gets four out of ten. He's obviously angry about it because he throws the ball to the next person in line hard, knocking the breath out of him for a second. The coach says something to him as he walks past him, but Wyatt just shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair.
Wyatt doesn't get another chance to throw because the coach blows his whistle and tells the team to line up for what he calls "suicides". This consists of the guys running up and down the court, stopping first a quarter of the way down the court, then halfway, then three quarters, then to the other side of the court. They go through this weird sequence three more times with Wyatt easily pulling in front of the rest of the team. I didn't realize he was so fast, but then, I've never watched him practice or run so why would I?
At the end, the coach blows his whistle again, saying, "Bring it in boys!" The guys form a circle around him and he talks for a few minutes before everyone puts a hand in and they shout something before breaking apart to head to the locker room. Instead of following everyone else, Wyatt jogs over to me.
"Hey Pey," he pants. "I need to go take a shower, but I'll be ready to go after that okay?" Then, he pulls up the bottom of his t-shirt, and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face before deciding to remove it completely. Wyatt's definitely man candy and I'm immediately jealous of anyone who's ever gotten to touch him. He's got one of those bodies that's toned, but doesn't look like he's been doing steroids for years. He has broad shoulders, pecs that beg to have a girls hands run over them, and a six pack that features a happy trail that disappears into the shorts that hang low on his hips.
And now I have the image of Wyatt, naked, in the shower. He's standing in front of me dripping with sweat which doesn't help that mental image. I start to tell him I'll wait, but my voice sounds rusty, like I haven't used it for a while and I have to clear it before I can continue.
Wyatt grins, loving my discomfort. "Ten minutes, okay?"
To avoid more embarrassment, I just nod and he jogs back towards the locker room. He doesn't get far before the coach yells his name and he slows to a walk to allow him to catch up to him. The coach puts a hand on Wyatt's shoulder and says something to him, causing Wyatt to grimace before answering him. Patting him on the shoulder once, the coach says something else before letting him go into the locker room.
When Wyatt finally comes back out, he's wearing a pair of dark jeans, a gray hoodie and a pair of black Converse sneakers with his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Ready to go?" he asks as he reaches down to grab my bag before holding out a hand to help me down from the bleachers.
"Yeah, I guess so. Where are we going?" After seeing him practice, the last thing I want is to be alone with him somewhere, and I definitely don't want him in my dorm room. There won't be any way to keep my distance if we go there.
"I figured we'd just go to the library since it's only a few buildings down from here. Then you won't have to move your car. We can just walk down."
I sigh in relief, causing Wyatt to shoot me a quick, confused look before shaking his head. He slows his walk so that he can stay beside me while he asks me questions about my day. He always does this, wants to know everything that happened since he last saw me, and it warms me just as much as it disturbs me. I've been trying so hard to keep him at arms length, but he just won't give up, no matter how hateful I am towards him. Now that he's tutoring me, I really can't be mean to him either, because he could tell me the wrong thing and make things even harder on me. Not that I think he would really do that, but the option is there.
It takes only a few minutes to reach the library, and I've never been so grateful to walk inside as I am right now. Once we enter all his focus will be on Math instead of on me, which is definitely a good thing. He reaches the door first, and opening it he places his hand on my lower back to lead me in. My jacket isn't very thick and the warmth from his hand warms my entire body. God, I'm turning into such a girl!
He continues to make small talk as we walk up the stairs to the main library floor. Downstairs is mostly meeting rooms and small study cubicles, which are meant for one person only. He always chooses a table that's far away from everyone else, like he's afraid my attention is going to be anywhere but on him. Like that's even possible, especially when he pulls off his hoodie. He pulls it off by doing theta very guy thing of grasping the back and pulling it up and over his head causing his royal blue t-shirt to ride up exposing his abs. Holy six-pack! He's perfectly toned thanks to basketball and I'm pretty sure I'm drooling at seeing the sight again so soon after the gym.
After he removes his hoodie, he grins at me knowingly as he pulls his shirt back down and sits beside me. "If you want a closer look, I'd be glad to arrange it," he murmurs in my ear, distracting me momentarily with thoughts of getting very close to those abs. His quiet chuckle brings me out of my fantasies and I know my face is flaming. "I'd really love to know what you were thinking just now."
Oh shit. There's no way I'm telling him what I was thinking. No way in hell! "Nothing!" I squeak. "Can we please just concentrate on Algebra?" Let him say yes. Please, please let him say yes. Otherwise, I might die of mortification. What in the world is wrong with me? This is absolutely insane.
"Sure babe," Wyatt says with a laugh, "I'll let you concentrate on Algebra, but don't think I'm letting you off the hook. I'll get you to tell me eventually." Flashing me a smug grin, he pulls my book over so that it's lying between us as he lays his other arm along the back of my chair. I sit ramrod straight for the remainder of the tutoring session, unable to concentrate on anything but the smell of Wyatt's cologne, his minty breath and the arm that brushes my back every time I start to relax.