Gentle hugs and innocent cheek kisses? Yeah... not my thing. They don't turn me on or get me off, so what's the point? Another trick question for you: Why do I feel everything when I do those things with Syn? When she was curled in my lap last night, lips on my skin, I genuinely considered hooking an arm around her head and holding her hostage in that exact position in my arms. Not bent over, ass up. Not under my body, thighs spread. But chastely on my lap. Though, now that I'm thinking about it, I'm not opposed to pinning her in those other positions. Anyways, I'm getting off track. Thing is, I like her sharp tongue and IDGAF attitude, but Je-zusss, when she offers me those rare tastes of her sweetness, I melt for the girl.
And now I'm in my element on the field, scanning the crowd trying to find her. Not smart considering there's about forty thousand people watching me, but I'm a superstitious guy, and she's my people now. I want her here, is all.
I purposefully avoid the girls in tight, sexy uniforms, screaming my name. But one quick glance holds my attention for a fraction of a second. There's a new addition. I can tell because in the sea of fake blondes, midnight black hair flips in the air right along with the talented little body it's attached to. Whatever, I'm not going to let my new keen eye for dark-haired beauties distract me from the fact that I've got beef with those girls.
And nothing—I mean n-a-d-a—could distract me from my game. I don't care if those cheerleaders are ass-naked, shaking their titties at me; my heart, mind, soul and body are in this game. In every game I play. And good thing, because we've got this dub in the bag. The score is already 38-18 with only a few seconds left on the clock.
The second the timer runs out and the game is called, the crowd bursts onto the field, screaming that deafening sound that drives me. I don't play the sport for the benefits, but I gotta admit I feel like a king in moments like these. Overexcited girls jump on me, taking stolen kisses from my lips and the rest of my face; Teammates reach out to slap my back and dap me up; NFL scouts give me the look, the one that tells me they want me on their team as bad as these broads want my cock down their throats.
But what gets me is the flash of black I see before I'm trampled like a tackle that nearly knocks the oxygen from my lungs. I think it's the black-haired cheerleader that caught my eye in the first quarter. I strongly consider shoving her off, but I'm a dude, and she's soft and warm and feels nice with her legs wrapped around me.
But then I smell her. Sweet vanilla and coconut...
I think my heart drops out of my ass when she lifts her head, touches her forehead to mine, and baby blue-turquoise-royal blue swirls come into focus. "Syn!?" I roar over the crowd, blinking rapidly.
"Greyson!" she squeals, then hits me with a grin that could knock me out cold. "I knew you were an NFL prospect, but I wasn't expecting that. You... You're unbelievable."
She remains clung to my body as I grab her face in my hands, scrutinizing her. Every sparkle of dark eye makeup, every stroke of deep red lipstick, every strand of half-up half-down hair, curled and held up by a red bow. The maroon and gold uniform. The Eagle's emblem across her boobs that matches the one on my jersey. Hold up... Boobs?
"The fuck?" The rough words accidentally slip my mouth and make her flinch, wincing at my reaction. Which makes me want to die a little. You were hiding a solid rack under there? I think to ask but decide better of it. "You're a fucking cheerleader?" Ah, shit, that one was just as rough.
My reaction has wiped the sweet grin off her face, and now I'm stuck looking at pouty red lips, which, if I'm being quite honest, I want to kiss the shit out of. I'm pissed as hell she kept something like her being a fucking cheerleader from me, but how could I really be angry at her when she's giving me this look that makes me swell with pride from head to toe. It's not the lusty look the punt bunnies give me or the starstruck, money sign eyes the scouts give me. This is an unconditional look, one maybe a proud parent would give. One I hadn't been given since my mom saw me play my first ever football game. I was only ten and probably tripped over my own two feet trying to run around, but I remember her face lighting up like I was the best thing that's ever happened to her. That look is mirrored in Syn's oxygen-stealing eyes.
"You're a fucking cheerleader." This time, I say it with pride. She's my cheerleader.
"I am. You hate it?"
I pin her hard with my eyes. "No. I love it."
Her arms tighten on my neck until our noses connect and she pushes her forehead against mine. It's mad weird seeing her all dolled up, but her chocolatey breath hits my lips and reminds me that under all this woman is my little homie. I'm aware of the couple thousand rowdy people around us, but this moment is hers and mine.
But then she squeezes around me, and I'm reminded that she has boobs. I plant her feet back to the turf because I gotta take it all in. "Don't move."
Jesus fuck. I take back my comment about her not being sexy. She's... Oh my God. There're boobs—ones that look like they'd fit perfectly in the palm of my hands—toned limbs, and a waist tiny enough to create an army of green-eyed monsters. She isn't skinny to the point where she looks malnourished; She looks strong and tight and honestly fucking edible.
"Spin around," I growl. I must see what we're dealing with from behind. But in typical Syn fashion, she does the exact opposite, stepping forward and opening her arms, but not for me.
Hunter slams into her and hauls her off her feet. I can see it in his face. He's just as awestruck as I am. But what he's not seeing when he shifts her so she's bent over his shoulder, is the most dick-hardening ass on the planet. Like, this ass should be prescribed as an alternative to Viagra. I have never in my life been more grateful for my athletic cup keeping me hidden.
Hunter reluctantly hands her off to Cameron, who is now showcasing her proudly while she covers her face in coy laughter. "Dude, look at our little grizzly bear. How cute is she!" he exclaims over the clearing crowd.
"Damn right she's fucking cute. And now our official personal cheerleader."
I grab the lock of hair held by her bow and lift her head as she's folded over Cameron's shoulder. She's fucking glowing.
"Don't let go of Cameron's hand. He'll make sure you don't get trampled in the crowd. I have to sit through a short press conference, but I'll meet you outside the locker room and we'll drive over to the club."
"You got it, QB," she says through her smile, and I can't stop myself from running my thumb over her sparkle-covered cheek before jogging off to the cameras and reporters, leaving her in good hands with my boys.
***
After a short but sweet car ride, filled with Syn boasting about us, her seeming to ride a higher high over our win than us, we made it to the already-packed club.
"I wish I could carry all of you in on my shoulders, but I can only fit one. You're going to have to fight to the death," she says through narrowed eyes, as if she's serious.
"Baby, we're all over two hundred pounds. We don't want to crush those precious legs of yours."
Why is Hunter calling her baby? Don't tell me now that he knows she's a hot cheerleader, he's suddenly going to treat her like a random broad and not our tomboy homie.
"These legs could drop-kick your ass after squatting ten reps of two hundred pounds in my sleep."
She crosses her arms, glaring at us. We are all just staring at her, trying to come to terms with the fact that our little friend is a talented, athletic smoke show.
"Is this a sexist thing? Your egos too big to be carried in by a girl?"
I chuckle, walking closer and positioning myself behind her. I know my feet will probably still drag on the ground even while I'm on her back, but I gotta show her that we are in no way sexist.
She smirks up at me, clearly satisfied with herself. "Hey, you guys over there!" She motions over the group of sturdy-looking guys waiting in line to get in. "Let's give these boys the entrance they deserve," she commands rather than asks, and they happily oblige, lifting the guys off the ground without question, more than happy to celebrate us.
She scoots her ass between my legs and bends over, waiting for me to jump on.
"Fuck, Syn," I curse, looking down at the sweet view between my legs.
"Oh, grow up. I have a hot bod, get over it and hop on. Try not to get a boner while you're at it," she warns seriously, and I laugh before awkwardly climbing on top of her, nowhere near surprised when she lifts me easily and waltzes right on inside, cutting us straight past the long line without so much as flashing our IDs. Everyone cheers us as we charge in, the energy and good vibes entering the club along with us.
"Remember last week I promised I could get y'all free drinks next night out and you doubted me?" she asks rhetorically before holding my shoulders and planting me in place, which happens to be the farthest spot from the bar. "You might not want to watch this," she advises, and I try to grab her arm to stop her from doing whatever she's about to do, but she slips out of my grip and skips on over to the bar, still wearing her sexy uniform.
She managed to get in without an ID, but this girl is somehow going to get herself arrested, I know it.
The guys and I watch through wary hands and the club lights as she leans in and whispers something funny enough to make the bartender throw his head back in laughter and take her hand in his, helping her as she climbs up and over the bar.
"Twenty bucks she strips on the bar," CJ, an acquaintance on the baseball team, chimes in after joining us and following our gazes.
"Clearly, you don't know Syn very well," Hunter mutters with protective warning in his tone.
"I'd body check her off the bar if she makes herself look any hotter than she looks right now," Brooklyn decides, rubbing the dirty blonde stubble on his chin as if he's considering it.
I chuckle, liking how protective we all are over her.
"You guys are scared she'll do something too sexy? I'm scared she's gonna do something so fucking awkward she'll get kicked out and sent to jail," Cameron scoffs, and I smack his arm in agreement.
"Nah, dude, this bartender is normally a giant, chody dick... I don't think I've ever seen the guy smile before, let alone crack up and let someone behind the bar to make their own drinks. Girl's got game," Hunter admits, narrowing his eyes like he's unsure of how he feels about it.
He's right. Beyond her tough, dude-like exterior, she must know she's fucking beautiful and can get whatever she wants. I mean, even dressed like an NBA player, she knows none of us can resist her, say no to her.
We watch in amusement as she kisses the douchey bartender's cheeks and hops back over the bar, somehow balancing five drinks in her small hands. I'm used to getting special treatment after games; people buying our drinks, cheering and praising us wherever we go, girls spreading their legs maybe a little more enthusiastically than they do on a regular night. But I've never had anyone jump behind the bar and make our favorite drinks for us with their own hands.
She struts across the club to us, holding her head high with a big, cheesy smile. "Rum and coke for you." She points her chin toward Cameron, and he grabs the cup from her hands before it could fall. "Vodka Red Bull for you two." Brooklyn and Hunter rub their hands together enthusiastically before taking the two cups that are filled to the brim. "And a very manly beer for you." She winks at me, handing me a passion fruit mojito. "And that's how it's done, boys. I told you not to doubt me," she smirks smugly and brings her own passion fruit mojito to her lips.
"Oooo, girl, this shit is strong. Thank you!" Brooklyn beams.
"Thanks, little bear. I'm impressed." I squeeze her arm. "But you don't need to flirt your way to free drinks. We can just buy 'em next time."
"Well, what's the fun in that?" she asks, her tongue peeking between her teeth as she smiles. I fight the urge to pinch her cheeks.
"What did you say to the bartender to make him laugh so hard?"
"I told him I'll suck his balls if he'll let me behind the bar," she says with an innocent shrug. My fist clenches around the glass, and all the guys look just about ready to kill the guy. "Oh my gosh, chill out. I'm obviously joking. Do I look like someone who'd put someone's dirty balls in their mouth?"
We all shift our feet uncomfortably, groaning under our breaths.
"Let's not put that image in our heads." I scowl, hating the idea of Syn giving some random dude a blow job. I'm glad we all agree.
"I just told him the truth... that a bunch of overly cocky jocks doubted my ability to get a free drink. I could tell he was miserable serving all your rowdy teammates."
"Yeah, he hates us."
"With good reason," she taunts, raising a brow. "And then we spent the rest of the time making fun of you guys. You know, shitting on your lives and all that," she says, then twists toward the dance floor. "Let's dance."
"Sometimes I really can't tell if she loves or hates us," Hunter murmurs to me with a smirk before Syn takes his hand and drags him behind her. Yeah, she might be the only girl at this school who doesn't pine over us, but she definitely loves us.
Last time we all danced together, it was innocent and goofy and we looked like a bunch of drunken idiots. Now, I watch as Syn shakes her sexy little ass, sways her curvy hips and dances so confidently I can't look away. She isn't throwing her ass in circles or anything provocative like the girls behind me, grinding up against me, but there's something incredibly sensual about the way she moves.
I have been so busy giving the death glare to all the guys that come near her, that I don't even realize when Amber, the hot redhead I've hooked up with a couple times, and a few of her sorority sisters come up to me. They're pulling my arms, trying to get me to dance with them. Instinctively, I look to Syn. She wiggles her eyebrows at me as if to say, 'go get 'em, killer!' and I scowl back at her. She's such a dude.
I eye Cameron and assign him the guardian roll before I reluctantly let the girls pull me into their circle and practically fornicate with me with their clothes on.
"Greyson, nothing is hotter than you on the field, all sweaty, muscles bulging," one of the sisters says in my ear before rubbing her tits against me.
"Not true. He's way hotter when he's naked," Amber informs the girl, biting her lip and pulling my head down to kiss my lips.
The only other time I've kissed with my eyes open was when Syn kissed me, and that was because I was so shocked, I physically couldn't tear my gaze from her. And now. Except my eyes aren't on the girl I'm kissing; they're on my best friend, who I still can't seem to tear my gaze from. I'm tense. I almost had to crush a guy's skull last time we were out, and that was with her hidden under a frumpy shirt that fell past her thighs. Now she looks like a fucking vixen, and I might have to slaughter anyone who tries to grab at her.
"You and the rest of the BC Playboys should come to our sorority house for the private after party to celebrate your big win," another sister calls to me over the music, licking her lips like I'm a juicy piece of meat. Yeah, I know what after parties are like at that sorority house... Pretty much one giant orgy, at least two girls to a guy. Pretty much every guy's fantasy. The boys will be thrilled when I tell them.
I look back over my shoulder at them, and apparently Caribbean Soca music really gets Syn going, because she has Cameron bent over in front of her, smacking his ass. So much for him guarding her. I find myself smiling over the fact that she managed to wrap the biggest, baddest players in the game around her little finger, but my focus flies back to the girls in front of me when one of them bites my ear and another one grabs a fistful of my junk.
When the song "Toast" by Koffee comes on, I have to ignore them rubbing up on me, and turn back around, knowing this is definitely a Syn song.
Oh. And now she's in a dance battle with Jay. And she's smoking him.
I laugh to myself as she does the shuffle, then hops on the floor and does the fucking worm—my signature touchdown move. Everyone is clapping and cracking up, having the best time. I'm quickly learning that Syn's energy is infectious, her good vibes contagious.
Clearly frustrated with my lack of attention, Amber pulls me to the wall, shoves me against it and locks her hands around my neck, pulling me down to her face. She thrusts her tongue in my mouth, eagerly and roughly. Next to me, I hear a thud against the wall and look over to see Travis, a tight end on my team, get slammed by a tall blonde who kisses him just as desperately as Amber is kissing me. We both give each other a fist bump while the girls suck on our necks. Man, do I feel douchey.
"Dude," he says, leaning over so I can hear him, completely unfazed by the blonde girl giving him a mean hickey. "I knew your friend was cute, but where did that fuckable body come from? And those moves?" He tilts his chin in Syn's direction, and my spine stiffens.
"I swear if any of you idiots start macking on her just 'cause you've seen her in that uniform, I'll kill you," I caution, deepening my voice and my scowl. He lifts his hands in surrender and laughs, then bends his head to kiss the blonde.
I barely register the hand job I'm getting above my jeans when I look over and see Syn's confidence falter. Maybe others wouldn't notice, but I can tell something put her off, and she slyly hides behind Hunter.
"Amber," I say gruffly, prying her off me. "I'm gonna get back to the guys."
She pouts. "Finish this later tonight at the sorority house?"
"We'll see," I mumble, smacking a quick peck on her lips before shoving through the crowd to get to whatever upset Syn.
"What happened?" I growl, sliding my arm around her belly and pulling her back into me protectively.
"Oh, hi," she says, looking up at me, confused. "Nothing happened. But you did miss me kicking Jay's booty in a dance battle."
I let go of her and spin her around to face me. Before I can ask what's upset her, a herd of cheerleaders barge onto the dance floor, blonde number one and two coming right up to us. I guess there's my answer.
I quickly glance at my boys to give them a knowing look. They nod back, acknowledging our pact to keep our dicks away, no matter how hot.
"Good job today, Greyson. You killed it out there."
"Did you hear us cheering your name? We tried to scream extra loud for you," number two drawls seductively, leaning in to touch my arm.
Naturally, I scowl at her hand and don't offer an answer. Then I ball my fist to keep from shoving it under Syn's chin to lift it. The fuck have these girls done to make her lower her head?
"Synamie," one spits her name like it's venom. "You were supposed to meet us after the game. The team comes to the club together."
"Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry," Syn apologizes.
"She had no choice," I growl, turning her nasty, scolding glare away from Syn. "I tied her up and kidnapped her after the game." They laugh over-dramatically, both of them reaching out and touching me as they do so. I let it slide because they'll never be getting a feel of me again. And that's an unfortunate thing for a woman not to get. "And if you don't mind, I'm about to kidnap her again."
I push them away and wrap my arm around Syn's teeny waist, dragging her away from her cunty teammates. I walk her straight to the bar—she'll probably want a drink after that.
"No one told me," she says to me when we take a seat. "But they wouldn't have let me come with them even if I knew." She isn't whining about it. In fact, her tone is flat, like she's trying not to seem as pissed as she should be. "Hi Dennis, how you holding up?" she asks the bartender, mustering up a smile for him.
He looks up and scowls at me, then down and smiles at her. "I'm okay, sweetie. What can I get you?"
Sweetie? Wow, this girl can get anyone to like her. Except her roommates, apparently.
"Can I please get a few shots of your shittiest vodka?" She looks up to me. "And a passion mojito for twinkle toes."
He laughs before walking off to make the drinks.
"First off, you love the drink just as much as I do. Second, tell me what's up with your teammates."
I take two hands and adjust her red bow that had been lopsided from dancing.
"Ugh," she groans. "Can you take this stupid thing out of my hair?"
I do as I'm told, pulling it down her long, black strands. I try not to gawk when that part of her hair that was held up by the bow falls down in front of her face, somehow making her look even sexier than she already did, and I put the bow on my wrist.
"Honestly, Greyson, it's embarrassing to talk about. They hate me."
"Dude, it's me. You could shit your pants in front of me and I wouldn't be phased. Don't feel embarrassed to tell me anything." I want her trust.
She lets out a small chuckle, then thanks Dennis before swallowing down a shot and grimacing. Then she snatches my drink from my hand and swallows half the thing.
"Alright, so my stunt group, the three girls who throw me in the air, are pissed that they got paired with a freshman. And since they're seniors, everyone else on the team follows their lead," she explains, and I still don't understand why they're so bitchy to her.
We both clank glasses and shoot a shot back.
"Who cares if you're a freshman? You're awesome and talented, and that's all that should matter." She takes another shot, and I wince in sympathy as she scrunches her face in disgust. Yeah, shitty vodka sucks. "Seniors are supposed to set an example for the freshmen, not make their lives hell. All the freshies on my team are welcomed in like family, treated no differently than anyone else." That's how a team should be. I mean, you need to work together and rely on each other, it won't work if they're shitty people.
"I love your team. You've all been so good to me. I wish I was a part of something so tight."
"Well, you are..." I take her forearm and rub my thumb in comforting circles. "You don't play the game with us, but you're our teammate. You're part of our family," I reassure, lightly squeezing her arm so that she'll feel my sincerity.
"I'm gonna take another shot to avoid crying," she announces before taking the shot. I smirk and slyly slide my grip from her forearm to her hand. "They didn't let me come to pasta night because I'm too fat." She holds on, and my heart rate quickens.
I wait, hoping she'll elaborate on things they've done to her, but she doesn't. She's not one to gossip or complain, I guess.
"And then I went to your pasta night and ate my body weight in carbs," she snorts.
"I'm not going to waste my breath explaining that you're very clearly not fat." I deliberately look her up and down, instinctively smiling. Now she's playing with my fingers and looking down at the connection, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "All I'm sayin' is, I wish your beef was with guys so I could kick their asses and call it a day."
She pulls on my pinky finger with one hand and grabs the passion mojito in the other, taking a sip.
"I've always had problems with girls," she quietly confesses before getting back to her drink.
"Yes, Syn, that's because you're sexier, smarter and more skilled than them. Girls like girls who aren't a threat to them." I lean in, brush her glossy hair behind her shoulder, and press my lips to her ear. "And you, little bear, are the textbook definition of a threat," I whisper, watching goosebumps form beneath my breath.
My God, she smells like fucking heaven. Her grip tightens on my hand and I can feel her shaking like she's nervous. Shit. The last thing I need is for her to shut down again. I felt like she was finally letting me in.
I quickly back away to see her eyes blue and unblinking, like she's in shock. Yup. Totally freaked her out.
"Finish your shots and let's get back to the dance floor," I order, hoping being around the other guys will relax her. I've never had a girl look at me like that before, and I'm not sure I liked it.
But as she finishes up her shitty vodka, I smirk to myself. Tonight, I got groped and molested by an entire sorority, got a handy and a tongue shoved down my throat. And somehow holding Syn's hand was the most intimate moment of the night. I just hope the hand hold and my lack of a filter didn't scare her off.
***
After another couple hours of dancing and drinking, the lights turn on and last call gets announced minutes before two.
"Delta Gamma invited us over for an orgy," I inform the guys as we start to head out.
"Oh gosh, I've jerked off to the last Delta Gamma orgy for the past two years," Cameron groans and fake jerks himself over his jeans.
"An orgy?" Syn muses. "Casual," she snickers, skipping along happily.
"Where do you think you're going, little one?" I catch up to her and snatch her arm to slow her down.
"I'm going to catch a taxi back to the dorm. I'd love to come and watch, but, you know, I'd rather take a dip in a swimming pool of acid."
I look at her with dipped brows. Is she jealous? "I wasn't gonna go."
"It's an orgy... That's not really something I think you should miss," she laughs, and it's not a fake one, but a happy and tipsy one. How the hell is she not jealous?
"Been there, done that. Wanna get ice cream?" I ask before realizing how revolting that just sounded. Yes, let me skip out on a sex party to get ice cream with Syn. The fuck is wrong with me?
She cracks up, her long hair falling to the hem of her skirt as she drops her head back. "Good one." She spins around and pulls me in for a hug, but before I could even wrap my arms around her, she jumped away and went to hug the rest of the guys. "Have the best time, and I want all the dirty details tomorrow."
She looks genuinely excited for us, and I can't decide how I feel about that. I'm moderately thankful for her lack of jealousy, but massively pissed that she'd be so eager. She's practically shoving me into the arms of another woman—women, in this case. If she was into me in the slightest, or even found me mildly attractive, she'd show at least some sign of unease. Because if roles were reversed and she was heading off to get mauled by a bunch of frat brothers, I'd commit arson on their house. No, I'd snatch the girl up and tie her to my bed for the rest of eternity. Then I'd murder every single man on the entire planet.
Hunter grabs my shoulder. "You look murderous. Ease up."
It's clear the guys have determined that she is the most chill girl they'd ever met. Just another disgusting fucking reason to like her. Can't she have any annoying qualities? Why does she have to be so fucking perfect for this group. For me.
Cam is bouncing on his toes, clearly eager to get his dick wet. "Alrighty then, who's calling the Uber?"