Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (18 page)

The tears continued to roll down her face as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it and pulled out another chair, a hard steel gray seat with no cushion. It wasn't for lack of wanting; Chelease liked the look of them.

“Did something happen? I know we're not super close or anything yet, but whatever it is, I can help. I've been through some shit, too. If you need to unload, you can do it on me.”

“You don't want to hear about any of this shit,” she snapped, finally getting the spiderweb patterned pantyhose up to her mid thighs on both legs. Chelease stood up and started wiggling into them, flashing me some matching spider panties underneath her skirt. All the details taken care of to a T. “You have a date with a football player, so why would you want to hear me talk smack about one?”

I didn't bother to correct her and tell her that it wasn't a date, just a friend thing. We weren't going as a couple. Tyce just happened to mention that there was a party and asked what I was doing. Since I didn't have any plans or any reliable form of transportation, he offered to take me with him. But Chelease was clearly hurting, and she didn't need to hear any of that crap.

“You can say whatever you want,” I told her honestly. “I won't judge, and I won't get upset.”

“Are you going to that party tonight?” she asked, her voice going scarily quiet. When she looked up at me, there was a glint of fear in her eyes. “At Mason's?” I nodded slowly and she pursed her lips so tight the skin on either side of her mouth wrinkled. “Be careful, okay? Keep a hand over your drink at all times.”

A chill flickered down my spine as Chelease stood up and twisted her sea of long braids into a messy bun. I didn't like where this was going. Apparently neither did Chelease because she swiped her thumbs under her eyes and flicked away the tears. Her mascara didn't even run.

A second later, my phone buzzed in time with a knock on the door.

It was Tyce.

“Chelease,” I started again, but she was already moving down the hallway, witch hat in hand. Clearly this conversation was over, but I wasn't going to forget it. Later, when she was ready, we'd talk. I'd make sure of it.

“You're early,” Teagan said when she pulled open the door and pretended not to notice my outfit. It damn near
killed
me to see her turned on, see her cheeks go red and her breathing start to pick up. It made me wonder what she'd look like if I rode her all night, pushed her wrists into the mattress and stared into her eyes while I fucked her. I didn't let myself think about the park. If she didn't need to talk about it, I was done thinking about it. Period.

“Kai decided he wanted to come over here to pick you up. Original plan was to leave him at Mason's and
then
come and get you with his car.”

“He's downstairs?” Teagan asked, still standing in the doorway, not letting me in. It felt like maybe she didn't
want
to let me in. I didn't blame her. I was scared to be alone in a room with her, to be so close to a bed. Clearly, a cold, dark public park was little discouragement so how would all of that go down?

I shrugged.

“Don't worry about him. He's busy sexting his girlfriend of the week.”

Shit.

Teagan's jaw clenched tight, and she stepped suddenly out of the way, like it was now of immediate importance for her to prove she could do this. I moved into the apartment and noticed her roommate's clothes on the floor by the table just before I heard her moving around in her bedroom. I guess that was supposed to be our deterrent. Not that I needed one. Fuck no. I had this all under control. If I couldn't stop thinking about Teagan, but I couldn't have her, then I'd befriend her again.

Simple solution to a complicated problem.

Until your idiot ass just reminded you both about that night with the pictures and the videos. We were basically cyber fucking.

“I have to finish up my costume and do my makeup,” Teagan said, glancing down the hall at her bedroom door. Maybe she wasn't even going to invite me in there at all? I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't seen it. That night I'd jumped the balcony, I'd been in there. It wasn't her though, too sterile. But for whatever reason, it was really important to me that she take me back there, that we both played this game where we were platonic as hell together. “Do you want me to do yours, too?”

I wrinkled my nose as she walked in the kitchen and snatched a black trash bag from under the sink and then grabbed a plastic bin off the table and hefted it under one arm.

“I'm not sure if I'm ready to rock anymore pink lipstick. That one time in Jackie's was more than enough for me.”

“Don't be a smart-ass,” Teagan said, reaching down and wrapping her hand around mine. Shock wave. Hot and fierce it rippled from my fingertips straight into my chest and then immediately ricocheted down to my dick. Teagan's shoulders stiffened, but she kept walking, pulling me down the hallway and into her bedroom.

When she released my hand, I went to close the door.

“Stop,” she blurted and then, more calmly, “leave it open, please.”

I watched her tuck some red hair behind her ear as cracked open the lid to the bin and pulled out some plastic bottles of paint.

“What are you doing?” I asked as she pushed some clothes to the side, ripped the garbage bag in half and then covered her comforter. I was still holding a bottle of bourbon in my left hand, all of my attention riveted onto Teagan.
Perfect reason why friendship is all we can have.
Watching her move into the hallway and come back with a jar full of paintbrushes, I was fascinated. Entranced. If she were my girlfriend … I'd never make it to practice. I'd be in bed with her every damn day.

“Finishing my costume,” she said, dipping a brush into some blue paint and then splattering it across a white lacy nothing that was lying on top of the garbage bag. Splashes of color hit the beige wall on the other side, but she didn't seem fazed by that.
There's my Teagan,
I thought with a horrible thrill, remembering that time we broke into a train car and ate six packages of Oreos before the workers found us there and chased us off.

Back home, in Venus' place, Teagan's room was a mirage of color and shape and sound. There were wind chimes hanging from the ceiling, an ugly mural of a cat she'd painted when she was eight, a collage of magazine photos around the single window by her bed.

My heart contracted painfully and I lifted the bourbon up, twisting off the cap and tossing back a drink before I handed it over to her.

“Chelease is going to
kill
me if she sees this,” Teagan told me, taking a drink and passing it back. She didn't stop painting, smearing the dress with blue, purple, silver, gold, pale green. I had no clue what she was doing, but it was fascinating. “Okay,” she declared after the wall looked like a solar system behind her bed. “Good enough. Now sit down.”

“You're not really going to put any makeup on me, are you?” I asked as Teagan rubbed the paint on her hands off on her ripped up blue jeans.
Jesus.
The curve of her body as she bent over, the way her hair fell around her face as she stood back up and looked straight at me.

“Take a seat, Mr. Winship,” she said as she pulled out a high backed chair and gestured for me to sit in it. “Rock stars might not wear much in the way of clothing, but even the boys need a good makeup artist.”

“The guys are going to freak,” I joked, but I didn't really didn't give a fuck. Kai was sitting in the car dressed as Thor, with a foam hammer at his side. Like he had any room to talk. “But the girls will probably go nuts.” I was trying to lighten the mood, let Teagan know that she was off the hook, that I wasn't looking at her like that anymore. Only … I seriously fucking was, and all my comment did was make her purse her lips at me. “Maybe you can put a pic of me on your Instagram?” I said as she came around the chair and picked up a black pencil.

“Oh, big shot, huh? You think my three thousand and two followers care about some washed-up old quarterback?”

“Ouch,” I started, a smile taking over my mouth as I enjoyed the banter between us. See, so much better already. No more fighting. But then Teagan stepped between my open knees, putting her body up close and personal with my crotch. My breath hissed out as she leaned down and closed my eyes with her fingers.

My nails dug into the fabric of the chair as I struggled with a surge of hormones and a painfully hard cock.

“Didn't you see the game on Saturday? I made
seven
touchdown passes, all while wearing pink and celebrating tits. Pretty fucking impressive if I do say so myself. That's almost a record right there.” I couldn't see Teagan anymore, but I could feel her. The firm, guided touch of her pencil along the edge of my eye, the heat from her body radiating through my thighs on either side of her. My bare chest felt the soft brush of something, her shirt, her breasts, her hair, I didn't know, but I almost groaned low in my throat.

Torture.

This was fucking torture.
And this whole friends thing was your idea, Winship. Dumbass.

“Well then, if you don't mind, I'd like to piggyback on your local fame to grab some more followers. You never know, if I become an Instagram sensation maybe I could ditch the whole computer sciences degree and be a makeup artist for
real
rock stars.” I heard the smile in her words as she moved over to my other eye.

“Computer sciences, huh? You've always hated computers. Last I heard, you were still writing your essays out in cursive.”

“Only because mom couldn't afford a computer,” Teagan said and then, “open up.”

I flicked my lids open and found her right there, inches away from my face. If I leaned forward, our lips would meet. If I put my hand on the back of her neck, I could hold her there and slide my tongue into her mouth until she melted into me. I could pick her up and lay her out on top of her paint splattered bed and fuck her until the sun came up outside.

What the hell, Winship?

My phone vibrated, and I dragged it out of my pocket. It was Kai.

'How long?'

'When we're damn good and ready,'
I sent back and got a pic of him flipping me off in return.

“Is your friend getting pissed?” Teagan asked as she switched our her pencil for some gray colored powder. “Eyes closed again.”

“He can wait,” I told her, and I meant it. This was our moment here; I wasn't rushing it. I refused. “The party doesn't even start for another hour, he just wants to get there so he can start hitting on girls before the other guys show up.”

Teagan made a grunting sound of acknowledgement in her throat, fluttering a brush across my closed lids. The gentle touch of it was infuriating, like I could feel her, but only a drop. I wanted to get soaking wet.
Only that's not going to happen, dumb shit. Why'd you even invite her to this party anyway? Are you going to pick up another girl with Teagan around? That's fucking cruel.

I guessed I'd be spending the night alone again, just like I had for the last two weeks and six days. Yeah, I was counting, too. Playing around with a few different girls seemed like a good way to get Teagan off my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, imagining her face afterwards, the blood on my dick, the way her eyes glimmered with tears she refused to shed.

Whatever.

I wasn't an animal; I could wait a little longer.

Besides, I still had those pictures of her—and I was using them every night. Sometimes during the day, too. Sometimes
multiple
times during the day.

“Eyes open,” she said again, going through a half dozen other colors and flavors of makeup that I knew nothing about, until she was done. When I finally looked in the mirror, it was a shock. I really did look a rock star instead of a guy in jeans and boots.

“I look like Andy Biersack from
Black Veil Brides.
”

“Oh, stop it,” Teagan said, grabbing her phone and taking a step back from me.

“No, I mean, I like it,” I told her, examining the dark liner around my eyes, the black and gray shadows on my lids. It was a new look for me, but I looked hot. Seriously. Teagan was fucking talented.

“Now hold still and give me a stupid selfie face,” she said, snapping a few quick pics and then giving the camera to me. I held it up proudly and gave her some ridiculous poses. “Thank you,” she said, smiling for real this time. “Now I finally have a model other than me for my portfolio.”

“If you want to get famous, you don't need any model other than you,” I said, my voice dropping seductively. It was a fucking accident, but once it was out there, it was out there. I cleared my throat and stood up, grabbing the bottle of bourbon. “I'll make myself scarce so you can change.”

“Sure, thanks,” Teagan said as I moved into the hallway and took several, long swigs of bourbon. It tasted like caramel apples and brown sugar, a hint of fall at the back of my tongue. It was good. It made my head feel a little lighter, my muscles a little looser, but it did nothing to make my hard-on go away. Heh.

'Almost ready,'
I texted down to Kai as I leaned against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, Teagan opened her door up. I felt my fist squeeze around the neck of the bottle, the bright red ink of my tattoo rippling as my knuckles got tight. She was swathed in the thin white silk dress with lace at the neck and along the bottom, a blue corset wrapped around her slender waist, putting her breasts on full glorious display. The paint splatters looked less random now, like she'd known exactly how the fabric would fall on her body and painted a world of color to match.