OBSESSED Series

Chapter 9

“Krissy,” Mindy says through her teeth.

My stomach lines itself with lead. I have the urge to leave. Run. But I suck it up and stay put. I’m not going to let the comments bother me. Of course Gage was with other women before we met. He admitted as much. And he’s the star quarterback of a division one football team. No one could expect him to live like one of the priests back at the monastery. Not to mention, he feels guilty enough about his actions that he wanted me to punch him in the face. “It’s okay,” I assure Mindy, smiling at her. “Really.”

They fall into a conversation about one of the female professors who was caught with a male student in the parking lot. After hours. They talk about lipstick brands and their plans for the upcoming weekend. Mostly, I watch Gage. I’ve seen football played on the small television the priests watched at the monastery before, but never paid too close of attention. But Gage…my boyfriend…he’s extraordinary. I find myself holding my breath when he has the ball, tucking it into his large hands—hands that are so gentle, yet so commanding with me—and fires it off, spiraling it perfectly down the field into the waiting hands of another player.

He turns his head toward the stands after every drill, every play, though I can’t see his eyes from this distance, shaded as they are by his helmet. My palms begin to sweat every time he glances in my direction, a low thrum starting between my thighs. My blood hums, nipples erect. The more I register his sinewy arms and the lines, bulges and musculature outlined in his white football pants, the more I can hear my breaths, loud and shallow in my head.

Wow. He’s really good. Male grace and fearlessness in every movement. At one point, he removes his helmet and dark, sweaty hair lands in a mess around his intense face, his cheekbones colored with exertion and my mouth goes dry as a desert. Is that how he’ll look while we’re…in bed together?

I want to fuck you.

He said that to me in the classroom. In those moments, the possibility seemed very real. Imminent. Gage on top of me. Inside me. But now, watching this big, strong god avoid tackles and leap over bodies on the field, I cannot imagine him and I together like that. I cannot. He’s like Achilles in battle, ripped from the pages of my Greek mythology text. I’m, like, a random servant girl in the background. It doesn’t make sense.

And now he’s frowning at me from the sidelines.

Someone is calling his name—a coach—and he turns reluctantly. Puts his helmet back on. That’s when I realize one of the girls is prodding my arm. Krissy, right? Based on her exasperation, she’s been trying to break through my Gage stupor for quite a while.

“Sorry.” I resist the urge to hide behind my fall of hair. “I got lost in thought.”

Krissy laughs. “Look at that blush, girls. Anyone want to guess what she’s thinking about?” They break into moaning sounds and obscene gestures with their fingers. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that you’re fantasizing about your boyfriend.”

I shift on the metal seat, hands wrestling in my lap. Isn’t this how girlfriends talk to each other? If I ever want to make friends or at least be accepted, I need to stop being so scandalized. “Guilty as charged,” I mutter, making them laugh.

Most of them, anyway. Krissy isn’t laughing. She looks almost calculating. “Yes, but is he fantasizing about you?” She squints down at my clothing. “You might be leaving a little too much to the imagination for that.”

“Krissy…” Mindy says in a warning tone. “Leave her alone. I’m telling you, he’s—”

“I’m just trying to help her out.” She crooks a finger at me. “Come here. Let’s do something with this outfit. It’s not totally beyond saving. And I have some makeup in my bag.”