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Jase
“Okay, we only have three more games this season. Each are imperative to get to the playoffs. Let’s get ‘em, boys!” our coach yells while we’re prepping for the game in the locker room.
We’re finishing getting dressed, and right before we leave, I wave everyone over.
“All in,” I roar, placing my fist in between the circle. Everyone else does the same. “In it to win it, brotherhood of strikers, forged in blood, the all-star fighters!”
They all repeat after me, and we holler in excitement. We jog out to the field, making our way to the banner the cheerleaders had made, and continue our chant. It’s something we came up with last season to recite and take notice at games. It works, and even the crowd joins in. I’m so busy paying attention to the bleachers, trying to find her, that I trip and roll.
Faking it from an onlooker’s point of view, I almost appear to be doing some roll and fumble stunt. In reality, I lost my footing from bumping into Barrett, making him stumble, too. He’s not a small guy either, that’s why he’s our front lineman. Even him moving from my action shows how easily I could have barreled into the entire team, causing a ruckus.
“Sorry, man,” I apologize with a laugh.
“I don’t even want to know,” he jokes, slapping my shoulder. Shaking his head at my clumsiness, he heads toward the banner we’re supposed to rip through.
The people around us scream, their raucous chants make my blood feel like it’s pumped full of energy. I’m going to kick ass tonight.
We’re huddled on the field discussing plans when I feel like I’m being watched. Of course, I am. I’m getting ready to play one of the biggest games of the season. Then I look at my brother and see him staring at someone in the crowd. He’s sad, the way his brows are pinched, and the pained expression marring his face only confirms my suspicions.
When I scan the onlookers, I see her. I smile from ear to ear. I can’t help it. It’s an all-consuming and joyous feeling. She came. She kept her word, and I’m nearly keeling over in glee.
She’s staring back at me, offering the smallest of smiles and a wave, and it just made my entire fucking night. Let’s hope I’m as lucky as I feel.
I wink, giving her a cheesy smile and an air kiss to be a tease. She glares, her face flushed and embarrassed. Realizing I do this makes me want to accomplish this task every day for the rest of my life. If I could love any color, it’d be the color her cheeks tint when I make her blush. I’m guessing I’ll be loving many things in life because of this girl.
The game starts, and everything is going great. I catch two touchdowns, netting the most yards in the game for the season.
Halfway through the game, I fake an end-around, but the opposing team doesn’t fall for it. The huge tackle coming at me is no joke. He’s got at least thirty pounds on me. Immediately, I see how this will play out and try to over-correct my spin. In doing so, I leave my side open to be hit by the huge tackle and then I’m toppled by another from the opposite side. The scissoring action of their bodies makes me land in an odd position. My ears hear it before I feel it.
Pop.
It wouldn’t have been so brutal if the cocksucker didn’t mess up my ankle. I don’t cry. I just bite my lip and let out a strangled groan. They hop off quickly, but I know this is the last game of my final season. I’m graduating this year, and I don’t plan on playing in college.
Fuck. It hurts. The burning sensation in my ankle throbs. I try to hold back grunts but can’t. My ankle is already swelling, and if not for the pain, I’d think it was separated from my body entirely. It’s odd having the feeling of numbness and disconnection to one of your bones.
I bet my baby bro is happier than a virgin boy about to get his first lay. He’ll be taking my spot after this season anyway. Being my back-up, he barely sees any time, it has always gotten under his skin.
Everyone around me is asking if I’m okay. Of course I’m not okay, but I can’t respond. The pain is fogging my brain.
Her voice, though, that I hear clear as day. “Jase!” Her tone is so soft and caring even while shouting across the field, like when I was sick as a kid and my mom used her “tender” voice on me.
One second, I’m on the ground, keeping pressure off my ankle. The next second, the coach and my brother are hoisting my limp form up. They hook my arms across their shoulders and tow me into the locker rooms. The school’s nurse will be looking me over soon, but I’m sure it’s not going to be pretty.
“You’re going to be just fine,” Coach remarks. I’d believe him if his face didn’t show so much disappointment. It only proves this won’t go away before I graduate.
“Yeah, bro. You’ll be back at it before you know it,” Tobe adds. His reassurance doesn’t seem feigned, he always has more faith than I do.
The walk takes too long, and my body feels strained and exhausted. They leave me to get checked for my injury. Until I’m set down, leg elevated, I don’t even notice Loren, but when her beautiful brown eyes invade my vision, peering at me in worry, I feel whole. No matter what this means for the season and rest of the school year, I have her in this moment.
Even if I don’t have her.
“You weren’t kidding about giving me a show,” she attempts to joke even with the sadness in her expression.
I smile, unable to help it while around her. She’s not even in touching distance, and her peachy scent invades my nose, making me hum in delight. The memory of her is so real because of her delicate smell.
“I think I tripped, falling for you,” I tease right back and then laugh at the stupidity.
She giggles, and it’s adorable and soft like her.
“Does that work on anyone?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“Possibly, but I never have to talk much.” I wink at her, losing track of my original intent.
“Wow. I knew you were a man slut, but you painted the clearest picture right then,” she mutters and closes her eyes in attempt to wash it away.
“I want to, though,” I state simply. “I want to talk to you. You make me feel lighter—things I’ve never felt before.”
“You know you sound like a sappy, lovesick teenager, right?” She arches her brow. “Who’d have thought?”
“And what if I am?” I goad, liking this freer side of her, the one without Toby’s watchful eyes. She doesn’t hold back and her snark is as pleasant as her taste.
“Am what?” she mocks, her eyes wide with an uncertain expression.
“A lovesick teenager,” I press.
“Then, I’d have to tell you it’s impossible. You don’t even know me.” She huffs a bit, her standoffish demeanor adorable.
“But I want to,” I counter.
And I do. The fact that she doesn’t put up with my shit and fights me at every turn makes her interesting and not just a doornail waiting to be pounded. Every little tidbit about this girl is something I need to know. She’s in my every thought, and that has never happened before. Lo intrigues me, and no girl ever keeps my attention.
“You seem to want a lot of things, Jason.”
“Jase.” I pause, scanning her short skirt and tight crop top. The slightest midriff shows, and I want to touch the skin there. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. “I only want you and everything that comes with that knowledge.”
In these few moments, the pain is ebbing, the numbness from not moving my ankle has me dizzy. It’s like I’m high on her—sedated by peaches.
“Jase,” she agrees thoughtfully. “How about we start with being friends?”
“I’ve seen what you do with your friends. I don’t want to be in that category, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else to be with you. I’m not settling for less than a date with you.”
“One date,” she concedes without much of a fight.
I lie here, wondering why it’s been so easy. Life never hands you lemons. It throws solid rocks, impaling you and making you wish you were dead. Then, when the bruises are all over your body, you realize you’re barely surviving, barely holding on.
I’m no saint, not even a lucky bastard. I just hold onto the good things like they’re all I survive for.
“Come here,” I demand gently.
My tone would be gruffer, but she told me to fuck off twice already. I don’t want to try for three. I’m also a fan of my balls, and she looks like she wouldn’t think twice before hitting them.
She sits next to me, her face impassive, like she doesn’t want to show her cards. I don’t blame her. She’s heard about my reputation. Not many haven’t.
Man whore.
Heartbreaker.
Cheater.
They’re not all wrong, but they’re not exactly right either.
She’s so small. She can’t weigh much. I hoist her onto my lap so she’s straddling me, but not before she squirms.
“Put me down, Jase!” she squeals, her voice high-pitched but not angry.
Her hands grab onto my shoulders to balance herself. Her short skirt rises from my actions. It takes everything in me to keep my palms on her hips and avoid trailing them lower. Avoid being the guy she believes I am. I’m trying my damndest to not be a prick, to show her I really want to know her and not just her pussy.
Though I want that too.
She smacks my arm, and when I flinch from a jolt of pain to my ankle, the apology is all over her expression. My ankle throbs, but I ignore it the best I can.
“I’m so sorry,” she pouts, and she actually sounds sincere.
“It’s really okay,” I reply, hoping she sees it’s the last thing on my mind. As I adjust my hips to make her better settled, she lets out a yelp. That noise goes straight to my groin. Such a bad position for her to be wiggling in any way, but at the same time, it is the perfect position. It’s exactly where I want her.
Usually when a girl straddles me, I take advantage and already have them on their back thrusting between their legs to further my pleasure. But not with Loren. For some reason, I need to know her first, to make her know me, understand me, and want only me.
Knowing she has feelings for my brother in any shape or form gives me a pang of resentment I’ve never been known to have.
My palms rest on her bare thighs, and we just stare at each other. It’s not awkward, but comfortable, like we’re speaking on an unforeseen level. Her eyes and mine tell each other every little secret without so much as a word.
Trailing my hands up her stomach, her chest, and then reaching her neck, I cup her cheeks, bringing her body flush with mine. The movement causes me to harden, but I push the sexual desire away to give her this moment.
Her lips are a whisper away. I can feel her breath on mine and the way it has picked up. Her beautiful brown eyes lock with mine, all-knowing, all-consuming, and simply breathtaking.
“So, are you going to—” she starts, tickling my mouth with her words, but I stop her with my kiss.
I crush my lips against hers while gripping her throat, making love to her mouth in the same way I’ll make love to her body someday. She moans on top of me, brushing her heat against my uniform-clad waist.
Our tongues twist, almost fighting for the upper hand. I never knew it could feel this good, that a kiss could consume me and make me want to keep a person forever.
I’m a teenager, but I know I’ll marry her one day. It’s in the way she groans and rocks against me, the way our tongues won’t concede to one another, and the way I can see her as mine. The only problem? I graduate this year, and she’ll probably hate long distance. Who’s to say I wouldn’t hate it too?
Our lips continue their battle, and she holds my face, making sure I know she’s in as much control of this as I am. We’re equals, battling for a common ground. And that she’s confident makes it so much hotter.
Finally giving in, I release her neck and gently pull us apart.
Her lips are swollen and red, and I love the sight too damn much. I brush my finger across her plump kiss-swollen lips and smile so fucking big that my face feels like it’ll break. I’m not much of a kisser. Of all the women I’ve been with, which isn’t a short list, she’s only the third to get kisses and direct eye contact from me. I’m not a connection-type person, that’s why I’m grabbing this with abandon. She’s what I want. Maybe it won’t last. Most things in my life don’t, but I’m holding onto it.
I’m not letting go.
I’m not letting her go.
“Lo,” I say, liking the way her shortened name sounds coming from me. “I want this.”
“I like that,” she responds. “Lo.” She winks at me, as if there’s a joke there, like she didn’t just deflect my statement on purpose. “And I want this too.”
Before I can smile and rebut, she brings her lips to mine. Instead of passionate battles of the tongues, it’s over almost as fast as it started. She lifts herself off my lap, and I glimpse cheeky boy shorts beneath her skirt and feel heat rush through me again.
Jason Collins dating before other shit? Yeah, I didn’t think I’d see the day either.
“Bye, Jase.” She waves a little, blowing me a kiss and walking out of the locker room.
Did that really just happen?