Blindsided (Game On 2)

“No need to explain,” Isabelle giggled, and I put the bag down at the bottom of the stairs. We stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of us sure whether it was okay to kiss in her home. After a minute of unbearable tension, I smiled and took her hand.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Not as much fun as yours by the looks of it,” she said, “Just got a new ‘fun’ photography assignment to take shots of seasonal things so we can make Christmas cards. Oh, no,” she corrected. “Holiday cards. Christmas is a bad word because of all the politically correct nonsense. I don’t know why we can’t just say ‘Christmas,’ that’s what it is and everyone knows it.”

Her rant amused me. Her words became more clipped and British sounding. It was sexy as hell.

“What are you grinning at?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I was just wondering if you wanted me to dress up as an elf so you can take a picture for your card.”

“Ha, that would be brilliant until all of your football friends found out about it. Unless you don’t mind public humiliation?”

“I spend most of my life trying to avoid that,” I told her, drawing her into me.

Isabelle put her hands on my waist, and looked up at me uncertainly. The sensible side of me wanted to hug her to me and protect her. The other side wanted to kiss her until her innocence was replaced with experience.

May as well start now.

I lowered my head, touching her lips with mine. It was even better than our first kiss because there wasn’t as much pressure or fear. She tasted sweet. Like hot chocolate.

I loved how she just fit against me, every curve moulding against me. It was far too girly to say that it felt like she was meant for me but … it did feel that way.

Hunter’s footsteps thundering back down the stairs caused Isabelle and me to look up. We both twitched like we were going to break apart, but in the end, we stayed where we were. Hunter met my eye, smiling, and I knew everything really was cool between us.

Chapter Eight – Not That Kind Of Girl

Isabelle

Being with Jesse was fast becoming my favourite way to spend time. Even though we were living in a house full of my family, we always managed to find an hour or two to be alone together. Usually at the coffee shop, or in my room. My parents insisted we keep the door open – which I found ridiculous – what kind of girl did they think I was? I’d only just been kissed for the first time, I wasn’t about to lose my virginity in the same week. Jesse was the only person I’d ever even thought about going that far with, but it was just that. An idea. More than anything else, I just wanted to get to know him.

“So, what have you and Jesse been getting up to in your bedroom?” Willow asked, winking as she bit into her tuna sandwich.

We had an hour to kill before our photography class, and as usual, we found ou

rselves in the cafeteria, cuddling mugs of steaming coffee to keep us warm.

I rolled my eyes. “Why are you so obsessed with that? Just because we happen to be sitting on my bed, doesn’t automatically mean we’re going to roll around on it.”

“I know, but … it must be tempting.”

My cheeks flushed as I thought about sitting with him, watching movies with him behind me, his arms around me, holding my hands.

Yup, very tempting, but not a serious consideration

“Well, he is gorgeous, and sweet, and everything I’d look for in a boyfriend,” I told her. “But, he isn’t really my boyfriend.”

“And?”

“And, I’m not planning to take things too far with him when I know he’s going home soon.”

“If you ask me, that’s even more reason to get on with it,” Willow said, her face serious. “You only have a couple of weeks with him, and you just said he’s everything you want. Is there really someone better than him you’d want to have sex with?”

“Why is everything about sex?” I asked, frustrated with having the same conversation over and over. “I didn’t come to college to sleep with a random guy from class just because everyone’s doing it. And just because I like Jesse, doesn’t mean I have to have sex with him. Why can’t things just … be?”

Willow put her sandwich down, and reached for my hand. “I’m sorry. I get it, and believe me, I’m in no rush to have sex either. But it feels like a weight around my neck. Seventeen years old and still a virgin? Telling a guy that makes them look at you like you’re a freak!”

I knew this to be true. At least, in her experience. A few months before she was seeing a really good-looking guy she met at a party. He had a bit of a reputation, but he was sweet to her at first. When she told him she’d never had sex before, he laughed. He actually laughed at her, then told his friends who, months later, still mocked her every time they saw her. I couldn’t understand what the big deal was. Seventeen is only a year over the legal age of consent. Maybe the fact that so many people start having sex at a young age was what made it so funny to some. When I was at high school, that was the last thing on my mind. Literally. I was more concerned with getting good grades than how many boys I could kiss, and certainly not how many boys I could sleep with.