Score (Skin in the Game Book 1) (10 page)

O
h
. My. God.

Those were the only three words I could make sense of as I slumped there, with my arms wrapped around Cal, his forehead pressed against my shoulder.

Maybe I should’ve been concerned someone would walk in and see us, naked and entwined together in the locker room shower. Maybe I should’ve been thinking about the deep meaning of having just relinquished my V-card.

To a football player.

Maybe I should’ve been wondering what our future PT sessions would look like.

Nope.

The only thing in my head?

Oh.

My.

God.

Over and over again, a broken record, enveloped in the most satisfying feeling of bliss I’d ever known.

He pulled out of me and released his grip on my hips, letting my feet slide down to the floor until I was standing again on wobbly legs. Thank God I had the shower wall to prop me up, or else I probably would have dissolved into goo and slid down into the drain. Even though the water pulsating from the shower-head above was warm, the instant his skin left mine, I felt cold.

Then
I started thinking about all the other things.

He reached behind me and grabbed the soap, then started to wash up as if everything in the whole world hadn’t just changed…as if nothing had happened.

“I can’t say I’ve met a college virgin before now. Hard to believe you’ve never done that before,” he said, a small smile on his face. “Soap?”

I took the bar from him and lathered it in my hands as the humiliation crept in, little by little. “Not from lack of opportunity,” I mumbled.

Not sure why I felt the need to save face and make that little truth known to him. I hadn’t exactly been saving myself, but I was hoping to at least find a guy I liked and wasn’t a total douche. For the most part, until then, I’d managed to find nothing but douches. Not too long ago, I’d thought Cal was one of them.

He let out a short laugh and stepped into the stream of the shower, letting the water hit that beautifully muscled chest of his. “I’m sure.”

Was that sarcasm? I didn’t know. My face heated and I looked down. Why did it feel weird to be lathering up in front of him? I’d just been slathered all over him like butter on bread. He O’ed me, for God’s sake. I’d let it
all
hang out, and now?

Now, I couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, splashing water on his face. “Good?”

Um.
Incredible.
But I got the feeling from his nonchalance that he’d been called that plenty of times. And that left me feeling stupid.

“Acceptable,” I said, which was the only way to preserve my dignity.

He grinned, clearly not buying it for a second.

When he closed his eyes to rinse his hair, I took a few hasty swipes at my body with the soap. Then, I rinsed off and scurried out of the shower before things got even more awkward.

Desperate to cover myself, I grabbed one of the towels from the caddy and wrapped it around myself in record time.

He strolled out a minute later, took his time selecting a towel, and dried each body part thoroughly before covering himself. In a daze, I went around, finding all the parts of my wardrobe—most of them soaking wet. I stuffed my soaking bra and panties into my backpack and pulled on my sweats.

My hair hung in wet ropes on my shoulders, and I could still feel the pressure of him inside me. It hadn’t hurt, exactly. It had felt more good than bad, definitely. But now, I was definitely a little sore.

Sore, and wet, and humiliated.

The walk of shame trifecta.

“You okay?” Cal asked, studying me as he pulled on his jeans.

“Yeah. Fine. Why?”

He shrugged. “You’re just quiet.”

I pressed my lips together, vaguely aware that as gross as I felt, I must have
looked
even worse. “What am I supposed to say?”

Cal shook his head slowly, the contemplative look in his eyes the first sign that he wasn’t as nonchalant about the whole thing as I’d thought.

“I don’t know. I guess
I
should be saying thank you. I clearly needed a friend, and despite me being a huge asshole to you, you stuck in and came back. I appreciate it.”

Friend
.

Of course. That’s all I was to Cal. And barely that, if I was being honest with myself. We’d gone on one fake date and the rest had been PT related stuff.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” As I mumbled those words, I realized there were tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

Oh, no. I would
not
be that girl.

This was a good thing. Shedding my V-card, experiencing life, not passing up opportunities to be in the moment. That was part of my goal for this year, and I was firing on all cylinders. I tried to concentrate on how good it felt. It
had
felt good; amazing, in fact. Cal was almost as masterful at deflowering virgins as he was on the football field.

Thousands of girls would kill to hook up with him. Own it!

But that little internal pep talk didn’t stem the flow of tears. I turned away from him and riffled through my backpack, grabbed a tissue, then pretend-sneezed into it, hoping he’d think I just had allergies. Crying would mean I regretted it. And I didn’t regret it.

At least, I didn’t
want
to regret it. But at the moment, my emotions were wrecked and raw and I didn’t know how to feel. If I hoped to avoid collapsing into wracking sobs in front of my first, I had to get out of there, stat.

I jumped from the bench and reached down to grab my bag. But the second I lifted it, he was standing right there.

He pulled me flush against him. He smelled amazing. It was the soap we’d just both washed up with; I could barely smell it on me, but on him it was utterly delicious. I dared to bring my gaze up to meet his. He must’ve seen the tears because he cupped my face in his hands and rubbed the corners of my eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded.

“It means a lot to me that you chose me, Bee,” he said, his expression so sincere, it made my heart hammer. He raked his hands through my wet hair, sweeping it from my face as he lowered his mouth to mine. His tongue swept across my lips, tentatively tasting and probing. It wasn’t urgent, this time, but it was just as hot and a little sweet. It sent my senses spinning.

“Are you hungry?” he murmured into my lips. “Let’s get pizza.”

I’m sure he must’ve felt the shiver that coursed through my body. It wasn’t nerves, this time. It was excitement. That sounded almost like a date.

“So I can be your fake girlfriend?” I asked, refusing to get all worked up over what was probably nothing.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “So we can eat. I’m starving.”

I chewed on my lip. If he’d wanted to bail, he could’ve told me “See you” and gotten pizza on his own. But he wanted to go together.

Just me and Cal.

Cal and me.

Cal, the guy I’d just had sex with.

And now we were going to have dinner. No deal or ulterior motive. No alcohol to deaden our senses. No pretense. Just two people, enjoying each other’s company.

If that wasn’t a real date, I didn’t know what was.

My stomach flip-flopped at the thought. “All right.”

Cal went to grab his things before closing up the locker room. I took the time to comb my wet hair with my fingers, and then grab hold of my phone and sent a quick text to Flora.

ATTENTION: V has left the building.

Two seconds later, a reply came back.

!!!STFU!!! Cal?

I started to punch in a reply when Cal appeared from around the corner. “Ready?”

I nodded and stood up as my phone dinged again.

Call me now!

And again.

Now!

And again, all in the space of three seconds.

Helllllo??? Nowwwwww!

Cal pulled on his jacket as I started to shove my phone in my pocket. Just then, Josh Groban filled the air.

Shit. I really needed to figure out how to change my ringtone.

I obviously couldn’t talk to her about it now, and I didn’t want to text. Mere written words wouldn’t adequately describe the sheer enormity of what had happened. I needed to tell Flora in person and she was going to have to wait.

Because I had a date.

I scrambled to pull my phone from my pocket and then tapped out a quick “Gotta Go” before switching it to silent.

I stuffed it back in my pocket and then looked up at Cal with an expectant smile. “Ready?”

He had his eyebrows raised, but he didn’t question it. The walk to Sal’s Pizza could only be described as surreal. The whole world felt different; the moon brighter, the air fresher. Cal didn’t hold my hand, but he did open the door for me when we left the locker room, and whenever the path in the snow became too narrow, he let me go first. He jabbered away on the way to the restaurant, this funny story about trying out for the pee wee football team when he was a kid. Meanwhile, all I could think was,
We just fucked.

As much as I wanted to stay there with him, part of me could barely wait to get home and rehash all the details with Flora, out loud, instead of them whirling through my head like a blender set on liquefy.

“Why are you so quiet?” Cal observed when we got to the front steps of Sal’s.

“Um. No reason,” I answered as he studied me.

The neon Sal’s sign light flickered above his head, accentuating his dark features and playing off the stubble on his sculpted jaw. Damn, he was fine.

Also,
we just fucked.

I wondered if I looked different, now that I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I figured everyone in the busy restaurant would swivel their heads and notice at once. Like every little thing we did in that locker room would be evident on our faces. But that didn’t happen. Not all of it, at least. Yes, people swiveled and stared, but only at Cal, their local celebrity. They shouted his name, high-fived him. Girls gave him come-hither smiles. He ignored those.

He motioned me to a table in the corner. When I sat, he threw his phone and key card on the table and said, “I’ll put in an order for a pie. Toppings?”

I couldn’t even think of a single pizza topping at that moment. It was like sex with Cal had reduced me to thinking like a cave girl.
Me. Eat. Good.
“Whatever you want,” I said.

“Pitcher of beer?”

I nodded. Better not to talk.

He sauntered up to the front of the restaurant, as I watched, entranced by the way his sculpted backside looked in those jeans. I’d had my hands all over it, and I could say from personal experience that it felt even more luscious than it looked. More girls said hello to him, and he was friendly, but not too friendly, to all of them.

Oh my God.
We just fucked.

Every time that thought hit me, shivers rippled through my body.

I pulled out my phone to read Flora’s texts, and as expected, there were twelve waiting for me, every one more urgent than the last. I was about to text her to wait up for me so I could rehash the details with her when Cal’s phone dinged.

I craned my neck to see the display as it lit up. I caught the name Renee and swallowed. There were a bunch of heart emoticons followed by:

I know you’ve been confused lately, but I promise to…

I wanted to keep reading, but that was all that showed on the display. My stomach dropped.
Promise to what?

Cal came back with the pitcher of beer and two glasses. He set one down in front of me and poured. Then he picked up his phone and rolled his eyes. “Shit.”

“What’s up?” I asked innocently.

He opened the text and showed it to me.

I know you’ve been confused lately, but I promise to forgive all that once we’re together again.

“Apparently,” he said, his voice tight, “she still hasn’t gotten the clue.”

I relaxed. At least he was being honest and showing it to me. I rolled my eyes, too, to humor him, as if it didn’t bother me one bit. “Well, it’s a good thing you have me to be your fake girlfriend then.”

I waited for him to say something, anything to tell me that this was real, but he didn’t. He just let out an exaggerated sigh.

Okay.
Try again, Bee.
“You said she wasn’t a nice person. What, exactly, did she do to you?”

He took a swig of his beer. “Among other things, she got pretty friendly with a number of other guys.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “And that’s not my style. We were together. I never would have disrespected her like that. She’s just not a good person.”

I let those words settle over me like a warm embrace. After watching my dad parade women right under my mother’s nose, hearing that Cal valued fidelity meant something to me.

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Truthfully? I don’t really want to talk about her anymore, Bee.”

He wrapped his big hand around mine, his fingers tracing circles on my palm. Intense shivers went straight up my arm and traveled the length of my spine. What was he doing to me? I’d never experienced anything as powerful as the things I’d felt in that past hour. As much as it thrilled me, it also scared me, too.

If this wound up being nothing more than a one-off, how could I ever go back to the way things were before?

“I wanted to say, I’m really sorry about the way I acted before…you know.” He shrugged and shot me a wry smile. “I’m not sorry about how things turned out, but it wasn’t fair for me to take my shit out on you.”

A comfortable warmth spread through me at his words. “It’s okay. Do you want to talk about what happened before I got there?”

He pursed his lips, the light in his eyes dimming some, but before he could answer, the waitress came with our pizza. I almost retracted the question when she left, but he blew out a sigh and started talking before I could.

“So yeah. Practice was rough and I was struggling. Me and one of the guys started jawing at each other, more my fault than his for sure. Coach kind of told me to head on in, talking about how I’d had a good run, how I’d done the team proud.” He met my gaze almost defiantly. “Everything in the past tense. He thinks I’m done, Bee. He doesn’t think I’m going to play again.”