Chapter 7

Drew

As I open the door, Bella throws my Xbox controller across the room, nearly knocking over Jacob’s mom’s decorative vase, and stares at me with wide, guilty eyes. Clammy and breathless, she looks at me like she’s discovered my hidden porn collection, and I’ve accidently walked in on her watching it. I inwardly groan because, of course, my mind would go straight to porn with Bella. Her accidentally flashing me has been accidentally flashing in my brain ever since it happened.

Her body is more spectacular than I’d ever like to admit.

“Are you in love with Sabrina?” she blurts out, and I have to stop myself from laughing. Sabrina? The girl I took to prom in high school. That’s what she wants to talk about? Not the fact that I’ve been M.I.A for the last five hours in a snowstorm while I tried to tame my boner. What’s really on her mind is if I’m into a girl that used me as her beard for the last year of high school.

“Hello to you too,” I mutter, taking my shoes off and placing the pizza box on the chair beside me. I don’t bother answering her question since I’m guessing she asked because those painkillers are giving her one hell of a high.

“She’s pretty. I can see why you liked, I mean like , her. Green eyes and legs for days. Any guy would be a fool not to fall in love with her.”

Is Bella still talking? As I turn to look at her, I see a flush of red traveling up her collarbone. She looks good like this, but I quickly flick my gaze away because those flashbacks are coming back again. Images of her lying haphazardly in the bath with her legs spread wide open hit me, and it doesn’t matter that I spent the last five hours trying to freeze my dick off, these thoughts have thoroughly defrosted it, and it’s ready for action.

“How much morphine did you take while I was gone?” I ask with a cocked brow. I force myself back to our sparring ways, since that’s easier than dealing with how I’m really feeling.

“What do you mean?” “You must be high because the only other time you’ve shown this much interest in my love life was when Bri kissed me while she stood on my helmet for that football fundraiser.” I grin, watching her swallow as her eye ticks ever so slightly. Gotcha. “What? Did you think I didn’t notice you loudly bitching about us to anyone who would listen?”

I remember it so well. Bella acted like my own heckler that day, and I can only assume it bothered her so much because she wasn’t the center of attention.

Her mouth opens, and closes, then she licks her lips. I can’t help but watch her tongue slide across them. They’re pink and perfect.

Pink and perfectly not mine…Ever.

“Honestly, Drew, I thought you barely noticed me at all,” she admits, and it’s the first time I believe her because I’ve always made sure to ignore her as much as possible.

“Believe me, I notice. The whole college notices when the coach’s hot daughter breathes, let alone when she openly hates someone.”

She glared at me in confusion, but I don’t bother feeding her ego anymore. Girl knows she’s hot. She doesn’t need her alleged ‘arch-nemesis’ admitting it too.

“If it’s not Sabrina, then is it Betty? I know you said you were on some throuple date at prom, but I thought that was just an excuse for a threesome for the night, considering you didn’t speak to either of them after.”

“How do you know I didn’t speak to them? You ran off to London the day after prom, and no one saw you until you turned up in Hope a year later with some off-color Bridgerton accent that didn’t suit you. I’m glad that faded, by the way, because it was ridiculous.”

After cracking my knuckles a few times, I look at her, and she seems more embarrassed about that than she was lying naked in the bathtub.

“Travis dumped Betty after he caught her making out with someone else that morning. She didn’t want to walk in alone, so Sabrina asked me if I could escort them both.” I leave out that Sabrina asked because she just so happened to be the person Betty was making out with that morning.

Bella’s eyebrows lift, confusion marring her face. “Oh.” It’s a small, somewhat pathetic whimper, so I decide to take off my hat and waterproof pants while she digests that little tidbit. I know she thinks I’m a player, and I may not have helped that perception over the years, but I like proving her wrong now. There’s something so satisfying about watching a hot girl find out she’s wrong, especially when that hot girl is Bella Summers.

Snatching the pizza box, I lift it in her direction as I walk past. “Got you some food, since I figured you wouldn’t have the foresight or inclination to feed yourself while I was out. Pineapple and ham. That’s your favorite, right?”

Her hunger-laden eyes track the box, and I consider swirling it around just to watch her follow, but I don’t. She’s been through enough embarrassment for one day.

“How did you know I liked pineapple and ham?”

I snort, snapping my head up quickly. “How could I not know? Whenever we’d celebrate a win at your house, Coach always bitched about your weird fascination with those toppings.”

She mumbles something inaudible when I bring the pizza over and drop it next to her. I know it’s not a thank you, though, because Bella enjoys treating me like a butler, and for some stupid reason, I can’t stop myself from waiting on her hand and foot.

“Aren’t you going to have any?” she asks, picking at the pineapple and eating it. I take a seat on one of the armchairs and pull out my phone. Jacob has sent me a few messages, but I slide them off my screen because I assume he wants to talk about his ex, and I’m not in the mood.

“Nah, I prefer not to gag on my pizza.”

“But you only got one.”

“Yeah, the restaurant wasn’t technically open, but Mrs. Finnegan knows me, and when she saw me walking around the shopping complex in the snow, she offered to make me a pizza for home. I was kind enough to use it for you.” I leave out that Mrs. Finnegan made me three pizzas while I was there because that would make the gesture look less legit.

She continues picking at the food, hardly thankful, and I bite my cheek. Is she really going to ignore the giant elephant in the room? The elephant being my dick since it can’t stop getting hard at the mere sight of her gnawing her lip with her teeth.

“What’s wrong?” I ask because she won’t stop looking at me, and it’s disconcerting.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something; otherwise, you wouldn’t have that pinched look on your face.”

“If you aren’t in love with Sabrina, then why aren’t you dating Brianna?” I push my lips out, hiding my smile because I never miss how she rolls Brianna’s name off her tongue like she’s tasting acid. “It’s obvious that she’s into you. You’re always together. So why haven’t you put your class ring on her yet?”

This time, I let myself chuckle. She’s almost vibrating with curiosity. “Okay. You’ve definitely had too much liquid morphine. I wasn’t in love in high school.” Tipping my chin up, I think for a second. “Unless you count football. I was definitely in love with football.”

She growls. “And my father.”

I lift a shoulder and give her a sarcastic smile. “What can I say? He comes with the territory.”

“So, you weren’t in love with anyone in high school?” This girl is just like her dad, stubborn as a mule. I don’t know what the hell happened while I was away, but something’s got her transfixed on this idea. I shake my head to reaffirm my answer. “Because you don’t seem like the type to fall in love. That would involve a heart and thinking with something other than your dick.”

Just like that, she stabs me with a metaphorical dagger, and sadistically, I like it. Thankfully, her eyes are narrowed on my face because if she glanced at my crotch, her point might be proved correct. Typical Bella, too caught up in herself to notice anyone else around her. “Aww, Belly. Are you just sad because you didn’t get a sample?”

She puffs out a long, exasperated breath, ready for another sparring session. “Pfft. Please. Your cock is probably so diseased with the number of girls you’ve let sit on it. I’d catch something just from standing next to you. Besides, I’m not interested in testing out a micro-penis, thank you very much.”

“Got a lot of experience with micro dicks, B?”

She drops her gaze to my crotch, and dammit, I’m more than certain she’s noticed the bulge in my pants with the way her eyes widen. “Please. I already know you’re nothing to write home about.” The words linger because I know she doesn’t believe them. Her left eye narrows when she’s lying. “At least Jimmy could touch the sides.”

Suppressing a smirk, I sit up. The vitriol coming out of this girl’s mouth is such a turn-on.

I tense my jaw, not backing down, and stand.

She watches my every move, the pizza now cold because the only thing she seems to care about is me. Her eyes drag over my arm muscles, to my chest, and then back to my face. Does she like what she sees? I hope so.

Her eyes widen when I rest my hands on the pillows beside her and lean in. We’re close enough that I can smell the pineapple on her breath, and even though I’m allergic, I’d seriously consider anaphylactic shock for the opportunity to touch her lips with mine.

“Believe me, B. Touching the sides isn’t a problem for me. Hitting the back wall too much on the other hand...” I leave it hanging and watch her imagination start to run wild. Her collarbone flushes and her ears turn pink. Am I turning her on with just a few simple words? Either way, I’m going to let that thought linger.

I stand, backing away but refusing to take my eyes off her. “Be careful, B. Girls lie, and you may think you’ve been satisfied before, but that’s because you’ve never had the opportunity to be pleasured by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

She gulps and shifts but has nowhere to go. I like watching her squirm.

Turning on my heel, I say over my shoulder, “Now that you’re fed, I’m going to head to my bedroom.”

“Bu- Bu- But…”

“But what? Still having an unhealthy amount of thoughts over my high school crushes? Funny because I’m having an unhealthy amount of thoughts about earlier. Guess I’m better at hiding my emotions.”

She doesn’t flinch. Barely moves a muscle while I stare her down. Is she really not going to challenge me?

“I’ll see you in the morning, B.” Forcing myself away from her, I turn toward the dark hallway, not wanting to leave her but knowing I have to for my own sanity.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I threatened Bella with a good time, but there must be something in the snowy air because I’m kind of hoping she takes me up on the offer, which is exactly why I need to leave.

One of the fondest memories of my dad was when he’d ‘lecture’ me. If I asked him a question, I’d be prepared to sit there for at least an hour while he’d tell me everything he knew about the answer. Literally everything, especially sports. St. Michael’s football was his favorite, of course. At the time, I’d moan about how long he could talk, but if I’d have known that those lectures had an expiration date, I’d have asked him to talk for every hour of every day, so I could record them and listen to them for the rest of my life.

Blinking, I try to relieve my tired eyes, knowing it’s pointless. I scrub my hand across my face and hear my dad’s voice playing in my head.

Sleep and recovery are the foundations of an effective athlete.

If only he were alive to see how far I’ve come. Long gone are my teenage days when I’d want to sleep away my depression, replaced with determination to make my dad proud.

I blink a few more times and force my eyes to water. Usually, I can fall asleep faster than a narcoleptic on sleeping pills, but tonight has been trickier. That’s because, tonight, my mind has been preoccupied with Bella, and she doesn’t even realize it. She’s out there snoring louder than a foghorn, and I’m stuck in my room listening to it. There are at least four thick walls and two wooden doors between us, but she’s so loud it feels like she’s in the room.

With every snore comes a small, breathy little mewl and then a short, sharp inhale. My brain starts to kick in at the end of every breath because it’s not just her snores keeping me up. It’s the thoughts. The little sparks of curiosity that I know I should drown out, but I don’t. I just leave them there to fill the back of my mind, slowly causing me to drown.

Does she sound as breathless when she’s about to come?

Has she ever felt anything close to what I could do?

Would she want me to show her?

Kicking the sheets off, I roll off the bed with the howling wind as my backdrop. Any hopes of the storm getting better before Christmas are dashed by the giant balls of hail smacking against the window.

Flexing my toes, I feel the soft carpet beneath my feet and know I need to do something about my Bella situation. I’m not the kind of guy to sit and think endlessly about a girl whose only interest is to hail abuse at him. Instead, I stand, pick up my workout gear, and head to the gym opposite my room.

Part of the reason Jacob relegated me to the room downstairs is because I’m always on the weights, training at hours our other roommates didn’t know existed. This way, at least I can train in peace.

Stepping across the hall, I toy with the handle of the gym door, but the loud snoring from the living room stops me. I lean over, peeking in, and smile.

Bella’s head teeters off the edge of the sofa. Her mouth is gaped open, and I’m almost certain no amount of grunting during my workout will wake her up; because if her own snoring can’t wake her, nothing will. Her casted leg rests high on the back of the sofa, and her other limbs starfish in every direction. I tilt my head because that position looks beyond uncomfortable, but she seems content, which is always an achievement for her.

Dissatisfaction goes along with her feisty attitude. Never happy with anything, I thought she would disappear to London after prom like her dad said, and after that disastrous ending to high school, I thought it was best to get rid of her.

By the time I got to St. Michael’s, I’d managed to push Bella to the dark recesses of my mind, only to be reminded of her when Coach mentioned her name. That I could handle. Her strutting into St. Michael’s my sophomore year acting like she owned the joint, I couldn’t. To this day, I still have no idea why she came to Indiana to hang out with her football coach dad for another four years.

She doesn’t even realize how taunting her presence is. And here she is, looking less than regal, still provoking me with her presence.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, my gaze flicks to the front door. What I wouldn’t give for the blizzard to break so I could go for a run and get some air. She hates me, and I love my coach. I need to keep my distance, and that damn snow is slowly destroying my sanity.

I turn away and close my eyes. Maybe if I put enough weight on one of these machines, it will hurt enough that I’ll forget about the painfully obnoxious girl out there who happens to be taking up all the extra space in my head.