“Afraid not,” he said dryly. “Come on. You’re going to give up on me just because of the school I go to? That’s lame.”
Again, there was truth there, but there was also no way things would ever work between us. We’d lost The Game last year, and . . . oh, God. He’d said his number was eighty-eight. He was the tight end who’d caught the last touchdown. Jay had delivered the final nail in the coffin in the remaining seconds of the heartbreaking game. My mother had wandered the house the rest of Thanksgiving weekend shell-shocked.
I stood and dusted the dirt off, preparing to leave, but he got up too. He was so freaking big, not just in size, but in presence. A lot of the male cheerleaders on my squad spent more time in the weight room than anywhere else, so I was used to big. But Jay was a heck of a lot more than muscles and broad shoulders. There was a force-like gravity to him. It was hard to resist his pull, especially when I felt it on every inch of my body.
My traitorous body.
“See you around.” My voice wavered when I didn’t want it to.
“Oh, hell no. You’re not getting off that easy.” His expression was stern. “Let’s get a cup of coffee or something.”
I shook my head. What was the point?
He must have distracted me with those blue eyes because he was abruptly right in front of me, so close if I took a deep enough breath, my breasts would brush against his chest. The thought was dangerous and wrong. So why did I consider doing it?
“You just got me kicked out of my favorite bar,” he added. His tone was final and non-negotiable. “You owe me.”
His gaze slid down from my eyes and lingered on my lips for a long moment. Alarm seized me. Holy God, was he going to kiss me again? Tingles of anticipation washed along my skin, but in my head it was all conditioned disgust.
He went to Michigan. No, worse! He was the starting tight end for their shitty football team. And I’d put my lips on his. My mouth knew what his tasted like, and how good he was with his skilled tongue. He’d had his hands on me. The same hands that had scored touchdowns against my beloved team.
There was a sensation of falling, except there were no arms to catch me. Only the hard, unforgiving ground rushing up to meet me. I was weak. He made me cloudy and disoriented.
“Okay?” His voice dropped low, and concern flashed in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was asking me to agree to coffee or checking on my status. I simply nodded, unable to find words. Jay looked satisfied. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, and lights flashed on a black car nearby as he unlocked it. “All right, let’s go.”
He opened the passenger door for me. I reluctantly climbed in and sat on the edge of the seat like I was surrounded by broken glass. I also glanced hurriedly around. What if someone saw me, an Ohio State cheerleader, getting into a car with a Michigan football star?
It was the most ridiculous thing ever. I’d been recognized on campus only a handful of times, and now we were in the Toledo strip. No one would recognize me here. The strip was a band of no man’s land on the border of our states that separated Ohio State and Michigan fans. It was a lawless, maddening place of chaos.
We didn’t talk during the short, tense drive to an all-night diner. It was like a Denny’s, only sadder, and it matched my mood perfectly. The waitress led us to a booth, dropped two sticky menus down, and disappeared with barely a word.
“I’ve got to ask,” he said. “What was the plan when that guy started talking smack about the cheerleaders? You were gonna go outside and rumble?”
“Yeah, we were totally going to rumble. And after, I’d do an angry choreographed dance to help me get my feelings out.”
He leaned back and propped an elbow up on the seat. He was so comfortable and confident. “Do you need to do one now? Because you kinda look pissed.”
“I am pissed. I liked you. You seemed like a nice guy.”
His gaze went to the ceiling for a moment, then returned to me. “And because I play for Michigan, that means I can’t be a nice guy?”
“No. Not for me.”
The waitress reappeared. Jay ordered a cup of coffee and frowned when I said I didn’t want anything. The waitress seemed just as annoyed. Good to know I was an equal-opportunity irritation.
“Humor me,” he said. “If you had showed up and Biff’s had been an Ohio State bar, what would have happened?”