Spiked

“Oh, they would!” someone— one of the nearby girls— said quickly, and stepped closer to me. “Seriously. He’s a linebacker, muscles for days and so sweet. I can go introduce you if you want.”

“You should! Really, I think he’s in the front,” another girl said, and before I totally knew what was happening, I was being led away. I looked back over my shoulder, meaning to spot Piper’s face, but instead I once again found Jacob’s eyes— it was so easy to find his eyes, his and mine clicking together like puzzle pieces. My lips parted— I wanted to say something, but what? It wasn’t like I could call out his name. I’d barely even spoken to him, and besides, Piper was now wiggling her way into his lap. But his eyes were boring into me, and then, to my delight— and surprise— his gaze was running down my body. Even while being pulled away, I inhaled at the feel of his eyes on me, at the realization they were lingering on my breasts, on my hips, on my legs…

“This is Barrett!” the girl— who the hell was this girl?— said, spinning me around and nearly throwing me into the arms of a kind-faced and slightly pudgy football player.

“Hi, Barrett— I’ll be right back,” I said, relieved to find that without Jacob’s eyes on me, I’d regained the power of speech. I smiled at him, then hurried toward the porch.

Air, I needed air, and now.

Football House’s porch was still packed with people, but I wound my way to the backside, behind the kegs and away from the heat of the other partygoers. I put my hands on the railing and took a deep breath. What was wrong with me? It was just some guy— some arrogant guy who had a parade of women ready to suck his cock, one of whom was apparently my suite mate.

But I’d never had someone look at me like that— like they not only wanted, but planned to undress me. Me—a country girl, clubhouse waitress, nineteen-year-old-freshman, virgin. He hadn’t looked at Piper like that, had he?

No. He had, I cautioned myself. Surely he had— I figured he must have one of those gazes that made you feel like the only girl in his world, even though that’s not true.

Still, I remembered what he’d said: I already know her name.

One of those freshman had said someone had been asking about me. Could it possibly have been Jacob Everett? Had he spotted me that early in the night, and sent someone to learn more about me?

It didn’t seem believable, not with the parade of women that were circulating by him constantly.

I took a few deep breaths, then backed up and sat in one of the lawn chairs that lined the deck. It was hard to see the stars here— too much ambient light in the big city. So very, very different than Tifton, where the stars stretched on for ages and the only noise you heard after eleven o’clock was the trill of cicadas. Here, I could still hear the rumble of car engines and sirens, even though tucked away on the backside of the house I could see neither.

I enjoyed the cool night air for a few moments that quickly became nearly a half hour. I finally felt like myself again, and was about to turn around when someone caught my eye in the tiny yard down below the deck. Two people— the tall, leggy black girl from earlier, tugging along another form, this one tall and strong looking, even in partial shadow.

It was Jacob Everett, I realized, and I hated the fact that a wave of hurt rocketed through me. The girl was pulling him into one of the yard’s benches, and though I wanted to look away immediately, I kept my eyes on them just long enough to see the girl dramatically bend over the bench, her sundress flipping up as she did so. Jacob put a hand on her ass, then spanked it just hard enough that the popping sound reached the deck. The girl giggled in response; Jacob slid one hand down her ass, to the darkened space between her legs, and used his other hand to fumble with his belt—

I spun around, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. I had to get out of here, now— after all, Jacob Everett was about to have another one of his apparently famous hookups, and why would anyone want to see that? I repeated this to myself more than once, trying to quell the unwelcome disappointment that was welling up in me. When I couldn’t, I took off at a jog, around the side of the deck, back to the party, which was louder, hotter, and drunker than I left it. I looked around for Piper or Kiersten— I wanted to go back to the suite, now. I didn’t see them anywhere, but the bartender was still a friendly face in the crowd. I hurried up to him.