Page 66 of Topping the Jock
“After calling you a stupid meathead, I would’ve said yes,” Quinn answered before squeezing his eyes shut. A heavy sigh left him as they opened again. “I would’ve said yes,” he repeated, but softer.
His words hung in the air.
Because of my fear, I had let him slip through my fingers all those years ago.
“We’re horrible at no-strings sex,” he then said. “I’ve had no trouble in the past sleeping with men and never giving them a second thought. This, with you, is all so new for me.”
“It is for me too. I’ve been in relationships before, some casual, others serious. But you’re different.”
“How so?”
“Because you make me feel like I’m flying.” When I was around Quinn, it was like gravity didn’t exist.
“You never told me you were Peter Pan,” Quinn said, his eyes still glistening despite his teasing tone.
“I didn’t? Damn. Guess the cat’s out of the bag now. I’m wearing green tights beneath my jeans, just so you know.”
There was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, though he didn’t let it fully surface. “You make me feel that way too.” His gaze found mine. “Like I’m flying.”
I couldn’t fight it anymore. I leaned over, closing the small gap between our bodies, and kissed him. He tasted like coffee, and he smelled like warm spice. I couldn’t get enough of either. I dipped my tongue into his mouth, swirling it against his. He moaned deep in his throat and gripped the material of my jacket.
“You’re so annoying,” he said, between kisses. “Making me fall for you.”
I smiled against his lips before kissing him again. Then again. My heart fluttered each time our lips met.
My nickname in my football days had been the Uncatchable Monty. Yet, Quinn had caught me. Fuck had he caught me.
***
The morning air chilled my skin as I jogged around the block, the breeze whipping in my hair. The pavement was wet, and the smell of rain lingered in the air from the light sprinkle earlier that morning. I had woken up, thrown on a hoodie, sweats, and running shoes before leaving my house.
Quinn and I never saw each other on Sundays, so my day was open.
Our date on Thursday had been better than I’d ever imagined. I smiled as I recalled the moment on the Ferris wheel when we’d kissed. My heart remembered too. We had gone back to my place afterward where Quinn had fucked me. He hadn’t stayed the night, but he’d cuddled with me for a while before leaving.
After my jog, I showered and searched my kitchen for something to cook for breakfast. Not finding anything, I grabbed my keys and phone and took off out the door, getting in my truck and driving to the café.
A familiar head of adorably messy sandy-brown hair caught my eye as I entered the restaurant. And fuck, my stomach dipped at the sight of him. Quinn sat at a table along the wall, laptop in front of him and a cup of coffee in his hand. Just like the morning when I’d first seen him again once I’d moved back to town.
Except, unlike that time, I wouldn’t sneak away unnoticed.
“Morning, Specks.”
He jolted and surprise flickered in his eyes as they focused on me. Then he snarled. “It’s my lot in life to constantly be tormented by you, isn’t it?”
“I’d say you’re pretty lucky, then.” I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. He feigned annoyance, but the smile at the corner of his lips gave him away. “Whatcha workin’ on?”
“An assignment for my AP students,” he answered, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I want them to choose a historical figure from colonial America and write a paper, detailing the significance of the person, their accomplishments—or failures—and lastly, how they feel that person shaped our society today.”
I blinked at him. “I feel sorry for your students. You’re one of those hard-ass teachers who actually makes them do work.”
Quinn chuckled. “It wouldn’t be an AP class if I took it easy on them. I want to prepare them for college. To hone their critical-thinking skills.”
The waitress approached the table and asked what I wanted to drink. I ordered a coffee with a buttload of creamer and the lumberjack special, which consisted of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns.
“I can’t believe you’re going to eat all that,” Quinn said.
“I’ll give you a piece of bacon if you want,” I said. Disgust crossed his face, and I laughed. “Is it okay if I sit with you? I didn’t mean to impose.”
