The way they work together, seamlessly mirroring one another, racing up and down the field, is beautiful to watch. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that their muscular arms are on display in their short-sleeved jerseys. I could watch them play this game all day.
But before I know it, they race toward another goal—Vin passing to Anthony this time, who fires a speed-shot past the goalie’s head into the net, a tie point just in time—and the game is over. We won.
I’m still sitting in the stands watching, mouth slightly ajar, when one of the Chem class girls nudges me.
“Aren’t you coming to celebrate?” she asks.
That’s when I notice the flood of people jumping the fence and racing onto the field, chanting. Most of the girls make beelines for either Vin or Anthony, and pretty soon, the guys disappear in a sea of cheering women.
My stomach tightens at the sight, and I feel vaguely nauseous watching all of those beautiful, hot ladies high-fiving Vin or grabbing Anthony in hugs. I’m too far away to make out their faces, to see if they’re enjoying this attention, but how could they not be? Those girls are all hot as hell. Vin and Anthony could have their pick, anyone they wanted.
So why me?
With a start, I realize that I’m actually jealous. Of both of them. What is wrong with me?
I shove out of the stands and hurry down the bleachers, though not toward the field. I need to get out of here. I did my duty, came and supported my roommates in their game. Now I need some air. And to not watch them get hit on anymore.
But before I can make it to the exit of the stadium, I hear my name being shouted. I turn around to find both Vin and Anthony jogging toward me, the crowd abandoned behind them. I catch more than a few glimpses of girls pouting as they leave, though the girls pretty quickly turn toward the guys’ teammates instead.
I linger at the fence dividing the stands from the playing field as the guys skid to a halt on the other side.
“You came!” Anthony says, his voice bright and a little too surprised.
“Of course I did.” I bite my lip, glancing between them. “I wouldn’t miss your first game of the season.”
“How did you like it?” Vin asks, eying me carefully.
“It was…” I shrug, breaking into a smile. “Really impressive, actually. Where the heck did you guys learn how to play like that? You’re so fast…”
They both break into grins. It’s funny when they look so dissimilar otherwise, but somehow their smiles are exactly alike. Bright and open and completely addictive.
“Practice,” Anthony says.
“Lots and lots of practice,” Vin adds.
“Well, it definitely shows. Great game.” I hesitate, not sure if I should offer a high-five or a hug. Would that be weird?
Vin reaches across the barrier to rest a hand on my shoulder, removing any sense of awkward tension. His hand feels warm against my arm, the pressure reassuring. “What are you up to now?” he asks, and I know I should leave, get myself out of this situation, but when I gaze up into his dark, sincere eyes, all I can say is,
“Absolutely nothing.”
Anthony beams. “Great. Let’s grab dinner. As soon as we get changed.” He hops the fence and reaches over to squeeze me in a quick hug. Not long enough to mean anything, but definitely long enough for me to feel like my whole body is catching on fire, exploding with tingles from the brief but close contact.
“Meet you by the gym exit?” Vin adds, joining Anthony on this side of the fence. He doesn’t go for a hug, just brushes my arm lightly, and yet somehow that lingering, faint touch makes me burn just as hot.
I can’t handle these two. Not individually, let alone together. I’m a virgin, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know how to do this. But I feel myself smile, my body reacting before my brain can get a word in edgewise. “Sounds great,” I say, and with those two words, I seal my fate.
My stomach won’t stop fluttering as we settle into a booth at the nearest diner. Vin sits across from me, his legs stretched beneath the table, touching either side of mine. Anthony, on the other hand, plops down right next to me in the booth, sliding closer until his arm brushes against mine. Between the two of them, I feel like I’m about to catch fire—and part of me, a part I don’t want to admit existing, loves that sensation.
“What’s your poison?” Vin asks, menu propped in front of him, though his dark eyes are on me as he speaks. In fact, they almost never seem to leave my face. And I don’t need to turn my head to feel Anthony watching me just as intensely.
“Whatever you guys are having sounds good,” I reply, flushing as I study my own menu, just for an excuse to look elsewhere.
Anthony orders for all of us, burgers and fries and milkshakes. “Vanilla for me, chocolate for these two,” he tells her, pointing over his shoulder at Vin and me.
“How do you know I didn’t want vanilla?” I ask him as the waitress leaves our table.
He smirks. “You don’t seem like you have very vanilla tastes, considering.” His arm nudges mine, and my belly tightens, a shiver of anticipation racing through my body.
“That’s presumptuous of you,” I respond, trying to cover up the way my heart is racing and my panties already feel wet. I squeeze my thighs together, willing myself to ignore the sensation. But that’s impossible when I’m pressed into this booth, sandwiched between two of the hottest guys I’ve ever met. Guys who both want me. Who want to share me.
“Am I wrong?” he counters, one eyebrow raised.
I bite my lip.
Vin laughs. “I’d say that’s a no.”
“I like chocolate, okay?” I roll my eyes, trying to grin. Trying to act normal.
As dinner progresses though, I find it surprisingly easy to do. Aside from the constant sparks in my nerve endings every time Anthony reaches across me for the napkins, taking care to let his arm brush my chest, or when Vin catches my feet under the table and runs his leg along mine, it’s actually pretty easy to chat with the guys. We talk about the book series Anthony is reading now, another one I’ve been meaning to start.
When Vin makes a quick bathroom run, Anthony asks me if I started reading the book he loaned me yet. I’m almost embarrassed to tell him, but I admit it, cheeks burning. “I already read the whole thing,” I say. Once I started, I couldn’t stop—I snuck it into classes, read it under the desk, sped through the last pages at dinner.
His smile widens, bright and open. “I knew you’d love it. It reminded me of you.”
I swallow hard, thinking of the last few chapters. The heroine in the book did remind me of myself, almost embarrassingly so. She was a 1940s war-time doctor, fighting against stereotypes about women only being nurses at the time. And yet, when she fell for one of the majors she was treating, it didn’t read like a cliché or a dumb plot hook. It felt real, the way the author described their slow-budding romance… And then the sex they had later, only a thin curtain separating them from the real world, and all the people out there waiting to judge them for what they wanted.
I think again of Vin and Anthony, having both of them at once, and I feel just like that doctor must have. Torn with desire, longing for something society wouldn’t want me to have.
“I love the way the heroine eventually defies expectations,” Anthony is saying, eyes boring into mine. “The way she just decides not to care about what others think anymore, and fight for who she wants.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
But then, luckily, Vin returns, and we shift topics to bio class, an easier subject. Anthony keeps watching me, though, his eyes too piercing, too knowing. I feel like he understands me after sharing that book, and it scares me how much I enjoy that feeling.
We talk about the game eventually, too.
“You guys were incredible,” I gush. “Just the way you move together, like you already know what each other are thinking, where you’re going to be at any given second…”
“We do,” they reply in unison, and we all laugh at
that.
“But really,” Vin adds, “It’s all just a matter of keeping your eye on the goal. Taking advantage of opportunities as they arise…” His legs shift under the table to trap one of my legs between them. His calves are bare, and warm against my skin.
“And never losing sight of what you really want,” Anthony adds, his finger trailing up my arm, tracing the outline of my bicep.
I shiver. “You know, it’s really not fair when you two team up on me.” I glance back and forth between them.
“Who said we play fair?” Vin asks with a little wriggle of his eyebrows.