Roughing

Hugging the pillow tight against me, I take in the scent of my laundry detergent and drift off to sleep, thinking about Bash. This time they are good thoughts.

Chapter 4

Bash

The couch in Tori’s dorm suite is harder than the fucking floor. I’m shocked that I managed to get any sleep. It was like curling up on stone slabs. After a few hours of trying to sleep, I thought about going home and coming back later. But I was afraid that something might happen, and with Jessica staying the night at my house with Clay, I didn’t want to leave Tori alone.

After I wash my face and rinse the taste from my mouth, I make a pot of coffee. It’s nine o’clock in the morning and late enough that I can call Dr. Holland to treat Tori. I’m worried about her. I’ve been through my fair share of concussions, and I know firsthand how rough it can be until it passes.

I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call Doc. Everyone on the team has him on speed dial after all the issues we’ve had over the years. He answers on the third ring and promises to come soon after I explain the situation with Tori.

Stirring sugar into my coffee, I finish my call with Doc, and then shove the phone back into my pocket. When I turn around, Tori opens her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She lowers her arm from her face and locks onto me, shocked to see me. Tori just stares, unblinking. I bet she thought I would bail because that’s the man she thinks I am.

I lean my back against the counter and take a sip from my mug, appraising her, before handing her my coffee. She takes it from my hand without a word and chugs the rest of it down in one gulp.

“More,” she grunts, shoving the cup into my chest.

Tori looks like hell with her hair sticking up in different directions, mascara streaks under her eyes, and what looks like dried slobber in the corner of her mouth. But she’s still beautiful. A hot mess I’d still bend over this counter and lose myself with her…In her.

I make us each a coffee and tip my mug to hers, the ceramic clanging together in the silent room. Tori walks away without a word and sinks into the thin cushions of the gray microfiber couch in the living room, burying her head in the pillows. “I feel like a truck ran over my head and kept backing up over it all night.”

I laugh at her theatrics. She was always a drama queen. “I called Dr. Holland for you. He should be here within the hour.” I take a sip and then lean over to set the mug on the table. “I’ll stay with you until he leaves if you’re okay with that.”

She lets out a big gulp of air but doesn’t speak.

I sit at the opposite end of the sofa, lean my elbow on the arm, and turn on the flat screen on the wall. After flipping through Netflix for ten minutes without finding anything she likes, Tori sets her mug on the table and crawls over to me. Her gesture isn’t meant to be seductive. But the way she looks at me, on all fours and her breasts spilling out her shirt, make it hard for me to think of anything other than sex.

“Give me,” she demands, snatching the remote from my hand. “You have never had good taste in movies.”

I chuckle as she makes herself comfortable next to me as if she forgot that she hates me. “Hey, that’s not true. I have excellent taste in movies.”

“Says the guy who likes Spider Man 3,” she deadpans, her eyes focused on the TV and a sly smirk on her lips.

“That was a good movie,” I spit back, defensive.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You just proved my point. Horrible taste. You also think Tron is a good movie. I guess that’s because you’re a jock who wouldn’t know a good movie.”

“Oh, so I’m just some dumb jock now? You should know me well enough to realize that’s not true. We were in the same classes, have the same major, and have the same grade point average. The only difference is I play football, and you hate sports and any activity that involves socializing”

I take another sip, the warm liquid running down my throat. Peeking out the corner of my eye, I can see the scowl forming on her lips.

“I am not anti-social,” she says, angry. “Just because you’re the King of Strickland University doesn’t make me the weird girl who’s afraid to talk to people.” She sits up straight and points her nose up at the ceiling. “I will have you know I am very social.”

“Is that so?” What was the last party you went to?”

“Yours, you jackass.” The smirk returns to her lips.

Duh! She’s got me there.

“You know what I meant, smart ass.”

She flips through the shows on the TV, ignoring me for a minute before she gives up her search and hands the remote back to me. “Here, put on whatever you want. I’m sick of looking, and I’ve watched most these already.”

“It’s your place, not mine. You should pick the movie. You know, since I have such bad taste.” I say the last part with an impish grin.

Saved by the knock on the door, I get up to let Dr. Holland into the apartment. We exchange the usual pleasantries, and he takes a seat next to Tori on the couch.

“How are you feeling, Victoria?”