“I don’t know.” She hesitates. “A date?”
“Yep. Movie. Dinner. Long walks on the snow-covered sidewalks since we’re in the Midwest and not the coast and it’s winter.”
She’s silent too long, and I don’t have the first clue what’s going on in her head. I’m hopeful she’s going to say yes, but the longer I get nothing, the more worried I become.
“Admit it. You’re curious. Our kiss was hot the other night,” I remind her. So hot that I’ve been thinking of it nonstop.
“My friend Sutton says players like you only have one night stands because your enormous egos can’t handle knowing that you aren’t good in bed.”
“Your friend Sutton has never slept with me.”
“She’s one of the few then.”
I walked into that one. “Then you owe it to yourself to give me one night and see if I’m worth it. One night to see if we’re even compatible. How about that?”
If she won’t agree to a date, then I’ll have to use tonight to convince her that whatever risk grade she’s assigned to me is outweighed by the rewards I can provide.
Dusk settles in, and the newly lit campus lights give her a fairy glow. Goldilocks, you’re sleeping in the right bed tonight. Her eyes fix on my face, and she studies me for at least two long breaths. She ends her inspection with a firm nod.
Her somber face switches instantly, and she gives me a brilliant smile. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, one night.”
She takes the lead, marching briskly toward her apartment. “Do you have condoms?” she asks. “Because I don’t.”
“If I say yes, are you putting a check in the con column?” I ask warily.
“No, it’d save us time. Otherwise we’ll have to stop somewhere.”
“Maybe we should stop anyway,” I suggest because I only have the one. I’ve carried a condom in my wallet since I was twelve. My mom gave me the first one after I had my first embarrassing wet dream, and she found me shoving my sheets into the washing machine.
“Why? Don’t you have any?” she asks.
“I only have one.” I emphasize the number. Her eyes widen.
“You think we’re going to need more than one?” She laughs.
Some guys’ nuts might have shriveled up. I view this as a challenge. “Goldie, we’re going to need at least three.”
“No way,” she scoffs, but as she realizes I’m not kidding even a little, her laughter turns to skepticism. “Really?”
I resist rubbing my hands together. “You can keep count.”
We stop at the store and buy a box of condoms. The clerk smirks and starts to make a dumbass comment but between Lucy’s withering look and my warning glare, he wisely rings us up silently and tucks the box into a brown paper bag.
“I forget sometimes that you’re a world-class athlete,” she mentions as we climb the steps to her apartment. “And sex is an athletic event. You know Paul Brown believed women shouldn’t be allowed around his Cleveland team because they sapped the players’ energy.”
“First, the only athletic event I’ve been involved in for the last couple of weeks has been seeing how much I can drink in one night and second, please, I want you to sap my energy. I want you to sap me until I’m dry.”
“You can stop now,” she says repressively. “I get it.”
I guess my dirty-talk skills need work. We stop at her door. As she fits her key into the lock, she says, “I have roommates, so you’ll need to be quiet.”
I run a finger across my lips. “Done.”
Lucy doesn’t really get it, not yet at least. But I want her bad enough that I’d dress up as a woman if it got her clothes off and us on her bed.
For all her worry, the apartment is dead silent when she opens the door. Her roommates are either hiding in their rooms or they’re at dinner. Given the quiet in the apartment, I’m guessing dinner.
I help Lucy out of her coat, then take mine off and drape it over my arm. I’m not sure where she wants me to put my stuff.
“You can hang your jacket up and, um, take your boots off?” It’s more question than instruction.
I like that she’s unsure what to do with me, that this event is foreign enough there’s no practiced routine of where the visitor’s coat and shoes go. I toe off my boots and drape my jacket over hers.
“Do you want to watch some TV?” I ask, trying to give her an out and desperately hoping she doesn’t take it.
“No. I don’t want that, do you?”
“No.” I lean down and brush my lips across hers because it’s been a while since I’ve kissed her and I need to feel her sweetness against me. She sways into me, her body telling me all I need to know. “Lead the way,” I mouth against her lips.
“First door.”
A floor lamp flicks on when she hits a switch. Her room is small and white, and I feel sort of like Gulliver amongst the Lilliputians. “Your bed is really small,” I say inanely.
“Maybe you’re too big,” she suggests.
I give her a cheeky wink. “Said no guy ever.”
Fortunately, she laughs. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No.” My need for food, water, football? They seem like distant desires in the face of the fierce ache I have for her. I feel like I’ve wanted to touch her for forever, even though I’ve only known her a few days. When she starts to pull her sweater over her head, I stop her. I sit down at her desk chair, which feels miniature. I pat my leg. “I would like you to come here.”