By the time we arrived at the field behind the stadium, the bonfire pep rally was in full swing. The cheerleaders and dance team performed to some pop song the band played. Behind them a giant bonfire lit up the night sky. Callahan made me promise to stick around long enough for him to meet back up with us after he did his football thing. But the night air had more winter than fall in it, and my leggings weren’t keeping me warm.
Axel noticed me shivering and said, “Dancing with the band will warm you up.” His eyes twinkled in the firelight.
“So will going back to the dorm and curling up in my recliner under a blanket,” I muttered.
“I had the idea your boyfriend wants to you to stick around so he can warm you up.” Drake smirked.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I insisted.
The three pairs of eyes staring back at me said I wasn’t convincing.
Axel and Drake switched to Team Callahan after the first day he decided to crowd my space in class. But I couldn’t believe Chessly had joined them.
“Et tu, Chess?”
“I spent the past hour sitting beside you in a crowded booth at Stromboli’s while some football player drew patterns with his fingers on your shoulder, and you didn’t shrug him off. That qualifies as something in my book,” she said with a grin.
“You need to raise your standards, girlfriend,” I huffed.
Yet I couldn’t deny how even talking about Hotshot warmed me right up. Thoughts of his arm around me, such a casual, public claim, should have left me cold. But I couldn’t lie to myself about how his body pressed along my side had me tingling all through dinner.
On some cue, the cheerleaders dropped out of their dance routine and disappeared behind the bonfire. A few minutes later, the drumline played a raucous cadence that had the band smartly forming into two lines. The cadence switched to the opening beats of the Wildcats fight song, and the cheerleaders ran up the middle of the line carrying a massive paper sign attached to a pair of two-by-fours. Someone in the art department spent more than a minute painting a perfect snarling Wildcat. Beneath it, stylized lettering read “Go! ’Cats! Go!”
When they reached the end of the line of band members—a pair of tuba players with the Wildcats logo stretched over the bells of their instruments—the cheerleaders stopped and held the sign taut. A massive cheer went up from the crowd as several members of the football team broke through the sign with the rest of the team behind them. One of the leaders carried a heavy-looking mallet painted gold, while three or four of the other leaders carried an effigy of a tiger painted in the colors of the Idaho Tigers, the Wildcats’ opponents for the game.
The players wore their jerseys and raced for the stage set up in front of the roaring fire. Once the team filled the space, the coach stepped out in front of them. Even with a microphone, he had to encourage the crowd to quiet down in order to be heard.
“These boys have worked their asses to give you a good season,” he shouted into the mic.
The crowd roared its approval.
“Now they need you to show up like you have been all year and cheer your hearts out.” The crowd gave him a taste of tomorrow’s excitement, which elicited a tiny grin from a man I had the notion didn’t grin much. Then he sobered. “The Tigers are a tough program, and they’re not going to roll over for us because it’s our Homecoming. In fact, they’d like nothing better than to ruin our party. But we’re not going to let that happen, are we, Wildcats?”
The players led the roars this time.
“That’s right. What do you say, ’Cats fans?” he shouted.
“Go! ’Cats!” reverberated over the field behind the stadium.
He put a hand to his ear. “What did you say?”
“Go! ’Cats!”
Yelling into the mic, he asked again, “What did you say?”
“Go! ’Cats! Go!”
The chant went on and on until finally the players holding the effigy tossed it into the bonfire. When the flames engulfed the tiger, fireworks shot out of it. The crowd went bananas. As the cheerleaders and dance team took the stage to lead the crowd with their routines, the band played the fight song again. While they did their thing, the players exited the platform, and a minute later Callahan stood beside me.
“Admit it, Island Girl. This is fun.” His eyes sparkled in the firelight.
“After all this fanfare, your team better deliver tomorrow, Hotshot.”
His chin came up and his shoulders dropped back, his stance tall and proud. “Don’t you worry about that, babe. How many touchdowns do you want me to score for you?”
“Cocky, much?” But I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
About then, Finn joined us, and I couldn’t help but notice how he checked out Chessly who had her arm through Drake’s to keep warm.
“You coming to the game tomorrow?” he asked us in general, but his focus keyed on my friend.
“We have tickets for great seats again, courtesy of your roommate.” Axel’s megawatt grin rivaled the light of the bonfire.
“You too?” he asked Chess.
“Nah. I took Jamaica’s call weekend so she can leave the dorms to watch a certain player do his thing.” She winked at me, and I wrinkled my nose back at her, eliciting a giggle at my expense.
Finn stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “That’s a bummer. It’s going to be a barnburner of a game. Shame you have to miss it.”
She shrugged. “I can catch it on my computer if I feel like it.”
The comical way he blinked at her said he couldn’t believe she wouldn’t “feel like” watching the Wildcats play.
The crowd surged around us and parted, letting a gust of frosty air swirl through. How Finn could stand there immune to the cold in nothing but his jersey and a pair of jeans was beyond me. I was already shivering, but that gust of wind made my teeth chatter. Callahan, who at least wore a long-sleeve shirt beneath his jersey, wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close to his side.
“I have an early curfew tonight. Can I give you a ride back to your place?”
“Axel and Drake have me covered.”
Axel glanced up from his phone. “Actually, we’re invited to a pregame party over at the Lambda House tonight. Wanna come with us?”
Neither Axel nor Drake was interested in participating in drag, but they loved to watch it. Usually, I had a good time with them when we went to a show, but tonight my frozen body craved a hot shower followed by a snuggle under a blanket in my recliner.
“I’m going to pass. But maybe you could drop me at the dorms on the way?”
“Stop playing hard to get, Island Girl,” Callahan whispered in my ear. To my friends he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll give Jamaica a ride.”
“Chessly too?” I asked.
He squeezed my waist, sending a shot of sensation straight to my core. “Sure.”
“We’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow, J,” Axel said. “Wear warmer clothes.” He shot a glance at my leggings and shook his head. Addressing Finn and Callahan, he added, “Good luck tomorrow, you two.” He fist-bumped both of them. “Own the Tigers!”
Drake echoed him, and hand in hand the two of them took off for their party. Finn fell into step with us as we walked toward the stadium parking lot where Callahan had parked his truck. When we reached it, he said, “I can give you a ride if you want to avoid all the mush with these two, Chessly.” He nodded toward Hotshot and me.
“That’s all right—” I began but Chess talked over me.
“Thanks. Sounds like a plan.”
Beside me, Hotshot snorted a laugh. I might have growled.
“There is no ‘mush’ between Callahan and me,” I informed Finn.
He smirked. “Of course not. Which explains why you had breakfast with us last Sunday in the same clothes you had on Saturday night.”
I threw up my hands. “For the last time, Finn McCabe. Nothing. Happened.”
Chessly covered her mouth with her mittened hand, and I threw daggers at her with my eyes. At that she let her laughter out, the traitor.
Finn’s noncommittal shrug could have meant anything.
Callahan tugged me toward the driver’s side of his vehicle. “Hop in, Island Girl. I have a better idea for warming you up than smacking Finn around.” He cleared his throat. “No matter how much he could use it.”
“Hey!” Finn said.
Before I could respond, Callahan crowded me toward the open door of his ride and urged me to climb in. The console that separated us when he gave me a ride the last time was pushed up, leaving a bench seat. I slid all the way across to the passenger side. A long-suffering sigh escaped him, followed by a chuckle. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of glaring at him for his blatant attempt to convince me to sit beside him. Instead, I watched out the window as Chessly climbed into the passenger side of Finn’s truck and hugged the door.
“Your roommate is a gentleman, right? Because I’m entrusting someone important to him.”
“After the way Chess took Tory down at Stromboli’s tonight, I have no doubt she can handle Finn.” He fired up his truck and set the heater to high. His eyes strayed to his hand where he fingered the curls that escaped my beanie. “You’ll warm up faster if you slide over here, babe. Just sayin’.” The low rumble of his voice sent a different kind of shiver through me.
He tugged lightly at my curls and smiled that naughty smile I was finding increasingly difficult to resist. Without meaning to, I inched closer to him.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about all day?”
I smirked. “Football?”
He tugged at my curls again, and again, I inched closer. “No. I’ve been thinking about an even more fun game.”
Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “There’s a game you like playing better than football?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I was in the middle of the seat where the console should have been. Callahan slid his arm across the back of my shoulders and coaxed me over until my side was flush with his. At some point, he’d chewed some gum or something because the minty scent of his breath ghosted over me.
“What game do you like better than football?” With his eyes zeroed in on my lips the way they were, my question came out on a whisper.
“Tongue tag.”
His warm lips covered mine, and I sighed into the soft pressure of his mouth. When his tongue slipped out to taste me, I opened for him, tasting him back. He shoved his hand into my hair, dislodging my beanie. Mimicking him, I slid my hand up the back of his neck beneath the brim of his backward cap, knocking it away as I tangled my fingers in the soft waves at the crown of his head.
As he deepened the kiss, I clutched at his hard shoulder. A moan slipped out, and he changed the angle, our tongues chasing and playing with each other. The tip of mine glided along the side of his, then the tip of his teased the underside of mine. On and on we played our “game” until Callahan groaned deep and let us up for air. He nibbled and kissed his way along my jaw and down my neck to the place where the collar of my jacket stopped his progress. Reversing course, he licked and kissed a trail to the spot beneath my ear. On a sigh I melted into him.
Somewhere in that endless kiss, I’d straddled him, our bodies smashed tightly together in the confined space of the front seat. My throbbing center was mashed up tight to the hard evidence of what my kisses did to him. Wild eyes stared into mine as we labored to catch our breath.
“Hottest. Kisses. Ever,” he whispered. “Are you warm now?”
Needing to give my clit some relief, I rubbed against him. “You could say that,” I rasped.
He clamped his hands on my hips, stopping my desperate movements. “You have no idea how bad I want this. Want you.”
The storm of desire in his eyes gave me a clue, and I wondered if he could see an echoing need in mine.
“But I can’t the night before a game.”
“You don’t really believe that old superstition about athletes abstaining from sex before a game, do you?” I ran my thumb along the thick column of his neck, enjoying the throbbing of his pulse beneath my touch.
“No,” he croaked out. “But the first time I sex you up, I don’t want to have a deadline.”
Furrowing my brow, I asked, “What are you talking about?”
“I have to be at the field at ten, which would mean having to take you home before then.”
I shrugged.
“In my fantasies of us together, we always enjoy a morning round or two of wrestling between the sheets before breakfast.” At my wide-eyed stare, he grinned. “To be sure we’re awake and all.”
“Um—”
“We can’t have that on game-day mornings unless we wake up while it’s still dark outside. From your coffee addiction and the way you slide into class with fifteen seconds to spare, I have the idea you might be a grumpy morning person.” He grinned and squeezed my hips again.
That’s what alerted me to how insistently I’d been trying to use his hard length to relieve my wickedly excited clit. For a second I pressed into him. “You’re right about me not being a morning person. But I might be persuaded to change my mind on occasion.”
A laugh barked out of him followed by a sigh as he rested his forehead on mine. “You’re killing me, Island Girl.”
For a minute or two, we sat quietly. Then he pulled away. “Normally, I’d put out on a third date, but I truly do have to be out of the house early tomorrow morning.” His eyes tracked his fingers as he pushed them into my hair, smoothing it away from my face. “Fitz is throwing the Homecoming after-party tomorrow night. Will you go with me?”
“I’m not a big party person.”
“I’ve gathered that.” He gave my hips a tiny squeeze. “We don’t have to stay long. Drink a couple of beers, dance a little, go back to my place.” He shifted beneath me, teasing a thrust of his length along my center.
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll go with you to the party.”
His eyes trailed his finger as he ghosted it across my lips. “As my girlfriend?”
The corner of my mouth inched up. “Is that how we’re getting around the fact I don’t date sports players? By calling me your girlfriend instead of your date?”
He maintained his focus on that maddening finger I wanted to bite. “We’ve already established you’ve made an exception for me.” His eyes blazed into mine. “For the record, Jamaica, I’m not a player. I don’t cheat. Ever.”
I kissed the pad of that finger lingering on my mouth then pressed my lips to his. “I believe you.”