His Quarterback (College Life #3)

I crave Gerald, and it won't stop

Ollie's P.O.V-

"So, how did your date with the red head go?" Jasmine asked me as she put in her orders. I leaned against the bar counter, waiting for my tables order to be ready.

"It was. . .exciting." Was all I said.

What can I say? Oh, hey, I dry humped my date on the bed even though I said I was going to take it slow with him. I hate myself for what happened with us, but am so excited for it to happen again. It happened over two days ago, and I can still feel the tingling between my legs. I barely know this guy and yet. . .he's doing things to me that no other male as ever done.

"Exciting? That's all you've got to say." All I see is a curtain of her black hair as she leans over to get some ketchup packets.

Jasmine and I both work at the Lucky Barn. It's a country style restaurant here on campus. In order to work here you have to be a student, and you have to dress like a Texas belle. Hat, boots, studded belt with a skirt and white t-shirt. When I started working here, I hated the outfit, my friends would come by just to laugh. As I got more and more into the job, it became a second skin.

"What do you want me to say exactly, Jasmine? Gerald and I hung out, ate some Taco Bell and had a nice time. Just- leave me alone and go do your job." I shoo her away.

She bites her lip, "You guys did something and you don't want to tell me. That's fine, but sooner or later I will find out. I always find out." She walks past me with a tray of burgers and fries.

I sigh, looking down at my cowgirl boots. She is right, she always finds out.

I haven't talked to him in two days, I don't know what he thinks about the situation. Does he regret it? Does he want to do it again? I know I do.

I always move fast with guys, it's something I've always hated about myself. I never took time to get to know them, what they like and if they're allergic to peanuts. I don't know anything about Gerald, yet I know how to make him come.

There's something about him, I can't put my finger on it, but one day I hope I can. He's a good guy, not like the other douche bags I've met here on campus. He likes to listen to me talk, values me as a woman and is always wondering if he's hurting me or making me uncomfortable.

He could never do that, hurt me.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear Carlos saying my name.

"Little Ollie!" I jump from the shout.

"Geez Carlos, what is it?" I say, irritated.

He points to the two plates with a steaming, juicy steak, mash potatoes and green beans on it.

"Right, I've got it." As I reach for the plates, he holds onto them not letting me grab them. "I need to take these to the customers."

"They can wait. What were you thinking about, it must have been something good." He wiggles his eye brows around, if he wasn't so annoying, I might have wanted something to happen with him.

Carlos is a grad student here on campus, I don't know what for, I never got around to asking. He's a short man, brown skin, bald head and a plump face. He's a hard worker, but is nosey as hell.

"Wouldn't you like to know." I smile sweetly.

"That's why I asked Little Ollie." I groan.

"Stop calling me that, and give me the plates." He lets them go, walking back through the doors.

I hate that he calls me Little Ollie. When I came to work here for the first time my freshman year, I was the smallest person here. People would have to reach things for me, which I hated. One day, Carlos saw me reaching for a bottle of ketchup, I almost slipped on my ass, but Carlos came and saved the day.

Saying to me, "Whenever you need help, don't be afraid of asking me Little Ollie."

Ever since then that's been my name. I blame my sucky mother for the short gene. My fathers a tall man, very strapping. Most kids would be intimidated by a tall father, but not me, I would argue with him as if I was 6 feet myself. One thing my father loves about me: I can stand my ground. He always taught me to be tough, and never let anyone beat you down.

I take the plates and walk over to my table. It's on the left side of the restaurant, right beside a large window that looks out onto the campus. I weave through the tables in the middle, many people chat, drink and eat throughout the night. It's packed in here; every table is filled up.

It's Friday night and our football team is playing against Oregon State. That's mostly why I haven't seen Gerald, he's been in Oregon. He hasn't texted me either, it could be because of that. But a part of me thinks that he's ignoring me. When Andreas was at away games, he always managed to text me, no matter what. Hell, I haven't even texted Gerald, so how can I be mad at him for not texting me?

Oh, trust me, I tried to say something, but I always deleted it. Never have I ever been scared of texting a guy.

"Here's your food, enjoy." I sit the plates on the table, in front of two boys. They smile and thank me. The booth behind them, I grab the customers card to pay their bill. Over by the cash register is Amy.

"Here, this is for table 6." I tell her. She swipes the card, as we wait for the payment to go through, I look up at the TV.

". . .Play action taking deep shot to Lyon on the post under thrown and picked! Lyon with the pick!" The crowd cheers as the announcers narrate what's going on.

I never understood football, and never tried to. After Andreas and I would have sex, he would try and explain to me what was going on, but I would just turn over and play Candy Crush on my phone.

The camaras pan around the field, to the bench. Sitting on it was Gerald. He had his helmet clutched in his left hand, back hunched over as his elbows sit on his thighs. His red hair was sweaty, dripping sweat all over his face. He was breathing hard, and my eyes focused on his tongue licking over his lips. My legs tighten together as I think about that tongue in other areas.

"Here you go, Ollie." I rip my eyes away from the TV. Amy hands me the card, I thank her and give it back to the couple.

As I turn back to the TV, I see that it's now on commercial.