I unceremoniously dump myself down next to Peyton, guzzling water like I’ll never get another drop when the sound of yelling draws my attention to the far side of the field. My eyes are assaulted with the sight a field of sexy, sweaty men running around kicking balls back and forth. I’m not too familiar with soccer but the sight of how tight those shorts are makes me want to change that real quick. Good god.
A whistle is blown, and a dark-haired guy runs off the field closer to the sidelines near us, grabbing a water bottle and gulping it down not dissimilarly to how I was moments before. This guy is seriously hot, like I want to climb him like a tree, sort of hot. There must be some kind of chemical that rich people use because it has to be statistically impossible for so many beautiful people to congregate to one area. He’s close enough that I can make out the sharp cut of his jaw and nose. He’s tall, easily topping six feet, and from the way his sweat-soaked t-shirt sticks to him, he’s stacked in lean muscle.
The water bottle raises a little higher and water pours over his face and hair before he’s scrubbing a hand through it, mussing it up, and I swear my panties disintegrate on the spot. Porn, that move was pure porn. He must sense me gawking because his ice blue eyes swing over to me. For the second time today, my breath catches in my throat. The way he’s looking me is – intense. Despite the stuttering of my heart in my chest, I assume a neutral expression like getting caught staring at this sexy as sin man didn’t make me want to slink into my seat.
I hold his gaze a few moments longer, before returning my attention to Ms. Taylor who’s started calling dancers to perform. With each dancer called, the crowd of soccer players gets larger to watch the show of gyrating hips and seductive looks thrown their way. They eat up the attention, whistling and catcalling, all except two. Blue eyes, and the guy who I now know is Nash. It’s disgusting, but the girls are lapping up their attentions like their throwing flowers and spouting love sonnets.
After Blakely’sperformance,she sends a wink over her shoulder drawing my attention back to the two in front. Nash stands with his arms folded across his chest, a frown firmly in place as he stares at her. Not only does he look unimpressed, but he looks disgusted. The way his lip is curled up in a half snarl and the odium in his eyes, I would say he finds her repulsive, but the tension radiating from him, that is clearly seen from here, makes me think I’m mistaking revulsion for possession, and the disgust isn’t directed at her but at the behavior of the guys around him. I’ve heard of men looking after their friend’s girlfriends as if they were his own, that’s what I’m seeing right now.
Blue-eye’s on the other hand isn’t even looking in Blakey’s direction, no, his eyes are trained on me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, but don’t give him my full attention again. I briefly wonder what his deal is, but if what Peyton has told me about everyone going to school together for years is anything to go by, it’s likely he’s wondering who I am. When he elbows Nash and nods in my direction, I realise I am totally wrong and he’s staring because he knows exactly who I am. Nash follows his gaze over to me and the scowl is quickly replaced with a smile of sin and debauchery, a dark promise for yesterday’s grievances that has me inwardly groaning.
Peyton is called up next and their attention is quickly moved to her, something akin to affection in their’ gazes. She moves to take her position, replacing Blakley, with an elegance that can only come from formal training. She has every reason to be confident too because when she picks her song, holy hell, can shedance.She’s all feminine grace and finesse, with a subtly of sex.
Everything about the way she moves shows that she must have had years of professional dancing, from the curved softness in how she moves her hands, or the deep arch in her foot. But none of that compares to gentle expression she has on her face. She’s loving every moment of this. Blue-eyes is looking at her with pride, the barest of smiles tipping up the corners of his plump lips, but Nash full beams at her, letting out a loud whoop as she finishes up her number. She grins over at them before shaking her head like they’re embarrassing her and skips back over to me, where I flash a grin of my own.
“Who knew you were so graceful?” I rib at her, gently tapping my shoulder against hers.
She laughs at my antics before confirming what I already thought. “Years of ballet training. Mother insisted on it, but I could never give up my love for contemporary and hip-hop. Besides, my ballet instructor says I have the poise of an elephant.”
Well, I don’t know what kind of drugs her ballet instructor was taking because even though I was messing with her moments ago, Peyton is the most graceful person I know. Next to her I look like a baby deer finding its legs for the first time. I wouldn’t say I’m clumsy because being my work for Clarke means that I don’t have that luxury, but I’m known to being accident prone. Like yesterday, I got splashed with water, Nash ended up in a puddle. Accident.
I zone into the soccer practice that the boys have resumed, where the guys were splitting into two teams for a practice match. It takes seconds after deciding the team that one side starts stripping off their shirts and I was facing eleven delicious men. At this point I could barely keep my mouth closed as I watch them run back and forth. Peyton has been good at commentating for me on who’s doing what.
The whistle blows again, and the coach yells out names, making changes to who’s on what team and swapping positions around. I watch as Nash moves over to other side of the side of the field, and strips off his shirt.Jesus Christ. My brain short circuits at the sight of him. He is all golden skin and myriad of colorful ink. My eyes follow the tattoos that trails down from the broad span of his chest and down one side, leaving his abs on full display.
“Christ, I love soccer.” I murmur, before picking my jaw up off the floor and subtly checking that I’m not drooling. Peyton cackles at whatever expression I must have on my face and follow my eyeline. When she spots where I’m looking, I can’t stop my cheeks from pinkening.
“Oooh, didn’t take you for a masochist, Darling Valley.” She snickers a laugh, before jostling my shoulder with hers. I told her about my run in with Nash earlier today. I didn’t get into the whole ‘sick-the-girls’ thing, because honestly, I don’t think it will really work and I’m not interested in playing childish games. That’s not why I’m here. But yes, definitely cannot help the way my body melted at all that exposed skin.
I roll my eyes at her. This bitch. “I’m not blind, he’s panty dropping gorgeous. Doesn’t mean I want to hop on his dick; besides I was staring at the beautiful dark-haired one.” Not a total lie, I was memorizing every line that could be made out through his jersey earlier, unfortunately for me he hasn’t been swapped onto the shirtless side.
Peyton grimaces at me before pretending to gag. “Gross, girl. You are not checking out my brother.”
Thatis Jack? I figured her brother must be good looking from her reaction to me sitting down yesterday, but they look nothing alike. I swing my attention over to Jack who’s running down to the goal posts, scrutinizing what I can make out of his features from here, then turn back to Peyton. Their eyes are the same shade of blue, but other than that there’s nothing. Where she’s all fair and soft, he’s the opposite.
She cackles at my shock, and I laugh along with her. A girl with dusty pink hair behind us scoffs and when I look over at her, she’s eyeing me up slowly, like she’s assessing me. She narrows her almond shaped eyes at me before scoffing again and pulling back her lips to show blinding white teeth as she spits out,
“You don’t have to worry about dropping your panties. Neither Nash nor Jack would ever fuck trash.” The venom in her tone takes me by surprise. I don’t even know this girl.
Peyton on the other hand looks entirely bored by the conversation, but stares over at her with a look that is anything but sweet. “Well, he’s no longer fucking you, Gianna.”
Oof.
I’m thankful when the next dancer is called because I really didn’t want to hear about who’s fucking who, and I’m excited when I see that it’s Milo who walks to the center choosing some RnB hit. His moves are sharp, fluid glides ending in jolts of stillness. We fall silent as we watch him finish up the routine before he kicks in the air and finishes in a back flip. Christ that was cool.
I look over at a still silent Peyton who’s watching him as he moves back to the other guys who are all laughing at him and slapping him playfully on the back. His mouth is split into a wide grin as he chats animatedly. He looks up and over at Peyton who quickly ducks her head down to her phone, pretending to be more interested in whatever is on there than the red head dream boat staring her way despite the blush on her cheeks.
I meet his eye and offer him a smile, which he returns before turning back to his friends. Peyton is still engaging in her phone when I return my attention to her. “Are you going to have to tell me what that was about, or am I going to have to guess?”
She shrugs a shoulder but doesn’t look back up. “Not much to say, Milo and I have known each other forever.”
“You like him.” She looks at me then and it’s clear on her face. Oh boy, she really likes him.
“We have history, I guess. He’d walk me back to my dorm, sat next to me in class, carry my books. Typical stuff, but it felt like more than that, he even got along with Jack and the guys. Milo just slot into my life like he was supposed to be there.”
I frown as I take in her words, putting the pieces together. “Milo’s the guy.” Not a question, but she nods anyway.
“I thought we’d live out this beautiful fairytale romance, but his parents forced an engagement between him and Juniper Moore. She actually attends here. Anyway, that was that and I couldn’t really be around him anymore.”