Page 91 of For the Fans
Still, I could use the distraction. Because lately whenever I’m by myself, the silence seems to echo louder than someone screaming directly in my face.
“Then maybe you should take Lexi off my hands.” I shoot Guty a smirk, and he laughs.
“I’ll take one for the team. If it meansyouget to take a stab at Little Miss Flirty Eyes over there.” He leans back in his chair, prompting me to glance up once more at the girl in the back.
Her name is Krystle, and she’s also a cheerleader, which means I wouldn’t have to put in much effort at all to get with her. Guty wasn’t wrong. Football players and cheerleaders go together like peanut butter and jelly.
But the nagging little voice in the back of my mind keeps on insisting that I’m growing bored with peanut butter and jelly. Especially when there are so many other interesting sandwiches out there…
No.I shake my head again. No, peanut butter and jelly isfine. It’s a classic, and everybody loves it. There’s no need to be thinking about grilled fluffer-nutters with banana, or apple brie paninis, or all those other exotic,differentsandwiches when the standard, regular ones do exactly what they’re supposed to do. Nourish you.
That’s what food is, after all. Sustenance. No more, no less.
Move on, Kyran. It doesn’t matter.
Suddenly, I’m feeling impatiently determined. I need a new distraction, one that’s more captivating than simply focusing on schoolwork. I need to hook up, to prove to myself that everything is fine.Nothinghappened the other day in the bathroom, and it wasn’t the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.
It was a mistake. An accident.
I was drunk, that’s it. I never need to even think about it again, because itdidn’thappen.Deny deny deny.
Standing up, I pack my books into my backpack and mumble to Guty, “I’ll catch you later.”
I hear him murmuring, “Get some, playboy,” as I saunter casually over to the back table.
Sliding into the seat next to her, I show Krystle my well-rehearsed charming grin, and she bites her lip to contain her obvious excitement.
“Hey, Ky,” she whispers, already oozing temptation, which bodes well for my plan.
“Hi, beautiful,” I hum, then wince.
“Shh… Quiet, beautiful.”
Nope. Stop it right now. Stop remembering that thing that never happened.
“Are you excited about the first playoff game?” Krystle asks, distracting me from my inner turmoil, which I really fucking appreciate.
“Fuck yea.” I grin. “Beating Virginia Tech on home soil is gonna be so satisfying.”
She giggles, and continues on with the hair-twirling. “Well, if you ever need to, ya know… blow off some steam.” She bites her lip again. “You know where to find me.”
“Here in the library?” I tease, and she laughs at my dumb joke, smacking me playfully on the arm.
This is good. This could work.
“Actually, I think I’m done.” She slaps her book shut. “Wanna get out of here?”
Yes. This willdefinitelywork. Distraction-mode: activated.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Standing up, I grab her backpack for her—being all chivalrous and shit—as we leave the library, and I ignore Guty humping the air in my direction when we walk past him.
I’m fully prepared to go back to this girl’s dorm with her, but we don’t even get that far. We’re actually not even out of the building before she shoves me into the bathroom.
Oh no… Not the bathroom.
Krystle sneaks inside and closes the door behind her, locking it and immediately lunging at me. Dropping our bags with a thunk, I grasp her face and accept the kiss she’s throwing my way, her lips hungrily attacking mine as her hands slither all over me.
