Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

“About you!”

I chuckle, feeling elated. “Can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

I back up to a locker, and she follows me.

“You are so . . . cocky! It’s a little maddening.” She shakes her head, her expression changing.

“What’s making you frown?”

Her teeth pull at her lower lip. “Jack, earlier . . . I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed a little off when you came in and when we sat down to read. You did amazing. Your voice is beautiful—” She stops. “What was it? Are you that unhappy about being here? About being around me?”

Ah, she noticed. People rarely do. All they see is this face and talent and just assume I’m comfortable in my own skin. “I’m doing this for Timmy—and it looks good for my image. Lawrence insisted, and he isn’t wrong. I need to push myself more. I didn’t have to agree to play Romeo—especially when it’s hard for me to be around people I don’t know very well. But I did.”

A dawning expression crosses her face. “You really are shy.”

I grimace. “Told you I was. Most people just assume I’m rude.”

“You are not rude! You were so nice to everyone here.”

“I am a nice person.”

“Right. But you play football in front of millions. You boss around football players and tell them what to do. Is that hard for you?”

I smile, seeing that she’s inched in a little closer. Curious girl.

“But when I’m out on the field, I’m the warrior.”

“But here, will you be able to do the play?”

I think back to the read through we did. “I was a little nervous, meeting new people, getting adjusted. Everyone here is down to earth, and no one is throwing a microphone in my face. Plus, you’re here. It helps. Keeps my mind on other things.” I don’t even realize it’s true until I say it.

Her head cocks. Another step closer. “So what you’re saying is . . . you’re kind of socially awkward.”

“Yeah.”

Her mouth opens. “But you’re so . . .” Her voice trails off.

“What?”

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

I laugh.

“Is this why you don’t give interviews?”

I nod. “I’ve never been able to relax with them.” I pause, feeling uneasy for a moment before brushing it off. “Not many people know that, Elena.”

She takes my words in, her emotions easy to read on her face—mainly confusion.

“But you don’t seem to have a hard time with women. Apparently, they flock to you.”

“I’ve never had to work for it.”

She glares at me. “Arrogant!”

I smirk. “It’s the truth.”

“But why on earth would you agree to be Romeo?”

“Well, as it happens, this town kind of loves me. Plus, you’re here.” I let those words settle around us, watching the flush that starts at her neck and works its way up to her face. Does she have any clue how I wrestled with the idea of doing this play? Yet as soon as Laura mentioned Elena would probably be Juliet . . .

Her tongue dabs at her lower lip.

I rest against the locker. “Hmm, I think you want me to kiss you right now.”

Another step. Her chest rises.

“This feels like high school, and we’re having a tiny tiff. I’m ready for the makeup part,” I say, pulling her hair out of her ponytail, sighing when it falls around the curves of her face. “Take your glasses off, Elena.”

She tucks them in her purse. Takes another step closer. “You’re bossy. I don’t know how any woman has ever put up with you.”

“I don’t either. I don’t deserve a nice girl. Keep talking.” Because with every word, she’s almost in my arms.

She tilts her chin up, her scent sweet and soft and floral, and I suck in a breath at the full force of her, the way my heart twinges, shifting around in my chest.

“And I do not want to kiss you. It comes with a price. My dignity. I have a vibrator at home, all charged and ready to go—”

“Fuck that. You will not use a vibrator. Not when I’m right here,” I growl. “Do you think about me when you use it?”

“No.” Her color rises.

I chuckle. “How do you imagine it, Elena? You underneath me, pliant and willing, begging for more?”

“No!”

“Me behind you. That’s it. You love that. That sound you make when I slide all the way inside. Been thinking about that a lot. Feels like a year ago when I had you.”

“Stop talking dirty.”

“I think it’s you under my tongue, Elena. That’s what I think about, the taste of you. You came like that in the kitchen with me on my knees. Did you like that? Me worshipping you?”

She breathes heavily. “Pfft. I barely remember it.”

I count the white rays in her irises, the way they make her eyes shine.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You should stop.”

“Make me,” I grunt as she takes that final step, her sweatshirt pressed against me.