Page 187 of Wicked Savage Cruel
I fight back an eye roll before scribbling across the paper and handing it back.
What sort of date?I ask.
The corner of his mouth quirks.Pizza and a movie at my place?he answers.
Pass. I just met the guy and he expects me to go back to his place with him on the first date? Do I have booty call stamped on my forehead somewhere or something?
Netflix and chill? Not really my thing.I write and toss the note back to him. We’re running out of space to write so hopefully this will end soon because his date suggestion only confirms that he is a total player who wants an easy lay.Sorry, buddy. That isn't me.Then again, what did I expect? He probably has his own personal fan club of jersey chasers who are happy to throw their panties at him.
The note lands on my desk again.Not what I meant. I figured we could do something low key. Get to know each other.When he puts it like that, it doesn't soundso bad,but it's still bad and I’m not naive enough to fall for it.
Dominique's face flashes through my mind. His lips pressed into a disapproving frown, a silent warning that I better fucking not. My stomach flip flops which only serves to annoy me more. I shake the image of him from my head.What the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t care whether or not Dominique would approve. Actually, I don’t care. Not one bit.This is just a side effect of sleep deprivation. I barely slept last night. Whoever is in the room over mine decided to have company over, and let’s just say they stayed up into the wee morning hours doing some extracurricular activities, and had zero problem letting the entire house know about it. Yeah, that's all it is. I just need to catch up on sleep.
I give Deacon another look through my peripheral. He gives me a small smile and a tilt of his head as if to sayplease.
I’m not really looking to get into a relationship.I write, and return the paper to him, somewhat frustrated at my unwillingness to give the guy a shot. I know Dominique is factoring into that decision, even if he isn’t the only reason, and I hate it. Hate that he has this invisible pull over me when I know nothing will ever happen between us, and that’s a good thing. We can hardly stand one another.
Deacon’s mouth dips down as he writes out his response.
Not asking for your hand in marriage or to be your boyfriend. Just a chance to get to know you. Maybe be friends?
Friends wouldn’t be a horrible idea, but … I mentally shake myself. I might regret this, but I refuse to let Dominique’s imaginary disapproval decide for me.Okay. Friends.
His smile grows when he sees my answer.Any suggestions for our first friend date?
Not a date. But how about coffee?
Got it. What’s your number?
We exchange phone numbers and I discreetly enter his into my phone, praying this isn’t a mistake when the teacher draws everyone’s attention.
"That'll be all for today. Finish your reading for the week and do not forget about Friday's exam. This will count for twenty percent of your grade, so it would behoove you not to slack off. It will be difficult to catch up should you fail and there will not be retakes so don’t think emailing me you’re sick the night before will buy you any extra time to study. It won’t.”
A collective groan rolls through the class as everyone shuffles to their feet. "So," Deacon rubs the back of his neck. "What class do you have next?"
"Health," I tell him as we both walk out the door. His hand brushes against mine and I instinctively bring it to my chest. He doesn’t notice my reaction.
"Cool. I’ll walk with you. I'm going the same way."
"Sure." I mean, it is a free country. I can’t very well tell him, no.
We spend the next ten minutes talking about nothing and everything, and my initial apprehension begins to wane. Deacon is … charismatic. He's animated when he talks, using his hands, and his face is so expressive. He’s one hundred percent as arrogant as I initially pegged him to be but, I don’t know, he’s not an asshole about it, despite what happened in the hallway, and he doesn’t grab me again.
I find myself laughing more than I'm used to after meeting someone new. There's just something about talking to him that is, I don't know, easy. He reminds me a lot of Emilio in that way.
I discover Deacon is in fact on the football team. No surprise there. He’s second string seeing as he’s an incoming freshman, and he’s a QB so he’s gunning for Dominique’s spot.
He’s confident and definitely a little cocky that he’ll get it by the end of the year, but I know that won’t happen. Not before Dominique graduates at least, so Deacon will have to wait until his junior year to start.
A part of me wonders if the two of them are friends, or friendly at least, since Dominique would be the one responsible for working with him. None of the guys are particularly social unless they have to be, Dominique less so than even Roman, and that’s saying something.
In high school, the guys actively avoided everyone not in their close-knit circle, including their fellow teammates, and were called Devils for a reason that had nothing to do with the school mascot and everything to do with the hell they rained down on anyone dumb enough to bother them.
I can’t imagine things are any different here. It’s unlikely Dominique would bother getting to know a second-string player off the field, but during training and practices, he might be less of an asshole. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but a part of me is tempted to ask Deacon how well he knows Dominique. I try not to dwell on why I want to know that, though.
We reach the school's athletic center and I turn to wave goodbye.
"See you around, Deacon," I tell him, but before I can move for the doors, he clasps my hand with his and tugs just enough to stop me.
