Playing the Game

28. Excellent Study Partner, Minus the Studying

"Who's here?" I try to look around her, but her grip tightens.

"Don't look!" She whispers with authority as she not so subtly glances over her shoulder. "Trey Mitchell. One of the wide receivers. We started flirting at a party last weekend and have kind of been...texting ever since. But we haven't actually seen each other since the party."

"Okay," I begin to understand her need to hide right now. "Well, maybe this is your chance to try and move things along a bit." I pry her fingers from my arm, slowly glancing around her to find the location she's actively trying to avoid at the moment.

Thing is, I don't see Trey Mitchell. All I can seem to focus my attention on is the dark head of hair sitting with his back toward me, muscular arm leaning against the table, those tattoos I've enjoyed tracing out on display.

The last few weeks have been fun. More fun than I think I was expecting. I mean, I knew it would be good. After the summer and what he did in the library, I knew damn well that hooking up with Grayson Adler was going to be amazing. But I didn't expect the fun side of it. The side where I actually enjoy his company, outside of what he does to my body.

"Come on," I reach for Lindsey's arm, pulling her toward the table. "Let's go say hi."

I can feel her fighting behind me, her nerves getting the best of her. She must really like this guy because Lindsey doesn't do nerves, or quiet for that matter. And she's really fucking quiet right now.

As we approach the table, the few guys facing us perk up, and the one I believe Lindsey has been talking to is on the end because as soon as we approach, his smile softens, a nervousness all of his own shining through.

"Well, look who it is," one of the other guys speaks up, causing the rest of them to turn around.

When Grayson's eyes catch mine, I can't help but linger in the creamy chocolate oasis that they are, letting the rich smoothness wash over me.

"Hey," the guy at the end speaks up, eyes glued to Linds. "You want to sit with us?" He scoots over at his question, making a spot for her.

She smiles, a tiny laugh tumbling from her before she's nodding, sliding into the last available seat.

"Don't worry, Blue Shoes," a louder voice belts from across the table. "I got a seat for you right here," he pats his lap, a big smile plastered across his face, cheeks beaming red as he chuckles.

I open my mouth to deny the offer, but before I have a chance, Grayson's hand is in mine, pulling me over to him.

"Yeah, I don't think so, Tubs." His eyes glance back up at mine before gesturing to his lap. Before I second guess the action, making it awkwardly obvious, I fall into his lap.

"Man, it's always the fucking pretty boys, ain't it?" The one Grayson just referred to as Tubs huffs, shaking his head with another laugh.

"Relax, man," Brandon speaks up from beside Grayson. "You know their families know each other."

"So you're saying I still got a shot?"

Brandon says something else, his words causing the table to erupt in laughter. I miss it though, unable to grasp the words because my thoughts are tuned in somewhere else, focused intently on the way Grayson's hand has found my thigh. His fingers begin to draw a pattern, slowly tracing a rounded edge, curving back and forth along the top of my leg, dropping down before pulling back up.

His eyes are still on his friends, his attention still glued to them as he laughs along, offering a few punch lines of his own. But his fingers continue to dance along my thigh, the movement almost second nature to him.