“Wanna get ice cream with me?”
I laugh. “Are you joking?”
He smirks. “I never joke about ice cream.”
Fourteen
Trent
I was on my way to the cafeteria to grab a chocolate and vanilla swirl cone, and now that Jemma’s here, we can make it a date. If you can even call it that. Not like I ever date for real, as in dinner and a movie kind of dating.
Jemma chuckles. “Are you joking?”
I smirk. “I never joke about ice cream.”
I say my goodbyes to the people I know in the game room, and then we step out into the crowded hallway, with my hand still on her shoulder. We climb the stairs, which lead up to the cafeteria, until Jemma interrupts the silence.
“You don’t look like someone who eats ice cream,” she says, her tone somewhat condescending.
I narrow my eyes at her once we reach the top landing. “Why not? Doesn’t everyone like ice cream?”
She shrugs as we walk into the cafeteria. “I just mean… you know, someone who looks like you do wouldn’t eat something as fattening as ice cream.”
I tilt my head back, laughing, and tap my stomach. “Don’t let this body fool you. Ice cream is one of my guilty pleasures.”
“What sport do you play?”
“Ice hockey.” I search her face, wondering how she hasn’t at least heard of the Kane twins, and then smile, a real one for a change. “You really are new, huh?” Jemma nods, and I continue, “I’m so used to everyone on campus already knowing who I am.”
It’s the truth. I can’t remember the last time a girl didn’t already know every dirty thing I’ve ever done before talking to me.
She clears her throat, pretending to choke as she rolls her eyes at me, so I rebound by adding, “That came out kind of douchey. I didn’t mean it like that. I know a lot of people is all.”
The douchebag alarm is definitely ready to sound after that comment. And Jemma is all over it.
She flashes a wicked grin at me. “I’m sure you do, Mr. Popular.”
“I like you, Jemma with a J.” Reaching for the cones at the end of the dessert line, I lift two from the stack, and look over at her. “Now, what flavor do you want?”
She brushes her hair behind her ears and bites her bottom lip, deep in thought. “Hmm… I’ll have the chocolate and vanilla swirl.”
“Good choice,” I say with a wink. “It’s my favorite.”
I fill the cones, handing one to Jemma. She sticks out her tongue, and I stand there, my mouth open, dirty thoughts running through my head. I can’t stop thinking about her tongue, and how it felt tangling with mine at the kissing booth. How much I wish her tongue was licking up and down my shaft, her pretty head bobbing up and down on my cock.
Fuck, I have to stop thinking about her like this, right here in the middle of the cafeteria, where I wish I could bend her over the table. She must see the lust in my eyes, the desire written on my face, because she stops licking the ice cream. Her eyes find mine, a fire brewing behind her green irises.
“How about we take this to go?” I ask with the cone raised in my hand.
She nods, now taking smaller licks of her cone, seemingly aware of how much she’s turning me on. I try not to watch her eat the ice cream. Jemma’s driven me wild from the second we met in the cafeteria. But I still know very little about her.
Once we’re outside the building, we walk side-by-side, dodging students as they pass us. “So, what’s your story?” I ask her. “Where are you from?”
“Lancaster,” she mutters.
“Lots of farms up that way.”
“Yeah. My dad owns a farm.”
I snap my head toward her. “You’re a farmer’s daughter. Interesting.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t know that already.” I shoot her a confused look, and she adds, “My sister is Jordan Walcott.”
“Oh. I didn’t know Jordan’s your sister.”
“You know her?”
I nod. “Yeah. Pretty much everyone on campus knows Jordan.”
Now that she mentions her, I can see the family resemblance. They have the same auburn hair, pale skin, and green eyes, except Jordan’s hair is much shorter.
“She’s the life of every party,” Jemma says. “Hard to miss her.”
That much is true when it comes to Jordan. Despite how wild she can be, and how much she loves to party, I’ve never hooked up with her. Jordan has always made it clear that she doesn’t do athletes. I’ve seen her drunk off her ass, with her skirt around her waist and dancing on the tables at Delta Sig. But she’s more of a frat boy magnet, fully involved in the Greek life.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Your sister definitely knows how to party.”
She laughs. “God, I hope you two never… you know.”