Page 7 of Foul & Fake
Sorry, guess you’ll have to delete that one too.
Sam frowns. “Was he a dick about it?”
Soccer Boy
Yeah, probably. So say something nice about me.
Ugh. “Kinda, yeah. But that’s jocks in general, isn’t it? They think the world revolves around them and that girls like me should just be happy they’re giving us the time of day.”
Me
Your shirt looked soft.
I swear I can hear his stupid, cocky laugh from here.
Soccer Boy
Okay, that’s too lovey dovey. Tone it down, cupcake.
“Ugh,” she groans. “I didn’t know he was like that too, but I guess I don’t know him much at all. I just know he’s hot and he’s even hotter when he speaks Spanish. It kills me when they roll their R’s, but I digress. I’ll just have to prank him for being a bitch. Just because he’s out of the game doesn’t mean I am.”
“And if he decides to retaliate, all of this will be for nothing.”
“Shit,” she hisses. “Okay, fine I won’t prank him. Is that who you’re texting?”
“Trying to ignore is more accurate.”
Me
Glad I went with that one then.
Sam pulls her long, black hair out of her hair tie and ruffles it. “Ugh, that sucks. I was hoping you’d at least have a good time.”
Soccer Boy
So romantic. Anyway, do you have any rules here?
“I might, he’s just… a lot,” I admit, trying to figure out how to answer him. “He’s very intense and doesn’t listen well at all. Likea disobedient puppy. Adorable, but a huge pain in the ass and if you’re not careful, he’ll eat your shoes when you’re not looking.” Or send out a video of you masturbating to all of his friends, teammates and classmates.
Me
No kissing. You can hold my hand and kiss my cheek, but no lips, no copping a feel, nothing under the clothes at all. I hate PDA.
Sam takes off her shirt and tosses it in the hamper with a groan. “I hate when they’re so adorable they’re hard to train. His dimples should honestly be a crime.”
Soccer Boy
That’s going to make things difficult. You’re going to have to sit on my lap at least or no one is going to believe you’re mine.
My stomach flips violently at the thought. She’s right — his dimples are a crime, and he’s too hot for me to remain objective if I’m sitting on his lap. I’m in way over my head here, and I’m starting to think having my dorm room destroyed would be easier.
Me
Fine. Anything else I should know?
Grabbing her shower caddy, Sam tells me she’ll be back in a bit, my gaze locked on those three little dots as Eli types.
Soccer Boy
