“You love me.”
“Ew, no.”
“Hush, you two,” I cut in. “Let’s sit.”
When we’re settled on the bleachers, Jesse sitting between Bailey and me, I covertly reach into my messenger bag and sneak a bundle of yarn to Bailey behind Jesse’s back.
I pull another out for myself and then clear my throat.
“Brrrr, it’s getting a little chilly, isn’t it, B?” I say, making a show of wrapping the scarf around my neck.
“Yeah, I’m a little cold, too,” Bailey says theatrically and does the same.
“You guys are nuts,” Jesse mumbles as he scrolls his phone, one leg bouncing quickly. “It’s like sixty degrees out.”
I clear my throat louder. “I said it’s chilly,” and when he doesn’t look up from his phone, Bailey swats him on the back of the head.
“Ow, B, what the fuck! That hu—hey wait! Those are my scarves!”
Jesse goes from irritated to elated in a blink when he notices what Bailey and I are wearing. He’s grinning like a goofball and grabs the end of mine, inspecting his handiwork.
“Hey, these are some sexy scarves. I did good.”
“You did,” Bailey says and nudges his shoulder playfully.
“You’ve come a long way from potholders and tea cozies,” I add.
“Yeah, especially since those potholders didn’t work for shit.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, B.” Jesse widens his eyes at her and makes a face that can best be interpreted as whoops my bad.
“I think I still have a scar,” Bailey jokes, looking at her palm with wide eyes.
“Oh shit, really?” Jesse makes a grab for Bailey’s hand, but she snatches it away with a laugh.
“I’m just fucking with you, J.”
“Not funny. I still feel bad about that.” Jesse pouts a moment, then returns his attention to the field, shouting through cupped hands. “Let’s go, Kelley Baby! Kick some ass!”
I can hear Kelley’s laughter from the field, and he throws both fists in the air. We watch as the teams move into position, a student ref blows a whistle, and the other team takes the kickoff.
Watching Kelley play has always fascinated me. Truthfully, I’ve never been able to keep up much with the actual game because I spend most of it with my eyes glued to my best friend.
The way he moves? It’s criminal. It puts everyone else out there to shame.
Kelley weaves in and out of the other players with speed and precision. When everyone else seems to be chasing the ball, the ball seems to bend to Kelley’s will.
His instincts are unmatched. His skill, expert.
And his body? Well, it’s masterfully shaped and honed from years of athleticism and training. Simply put, Kelley is hot. A testament to the fruits of hard work and dedication. I watch the way his quad muscles bunch and stretch as he pushes his legs down the field, the way his arms pump and his biceps bulge.
Jeebus. Absolutely criminal.
Halfway through the game, Kelley takes off his shirt, and I can’t help but stare at the planes of his defined abs. The way they contract when he kicks long sends funny tingles through my body. He really is a thing of beauty. Unfortunately, I’m not the only one to notice, and when a group of girls along the sidelines starts tittering and pointing at him, I bristle and have to temper my stare.
“Just go tell them he’s off limits,” Jesse snarks from beside me. “I don’t think your death glare is getting through to them.”