Page 17 of Necessary Roughness

“Um…excuse me?”

Not my best response ever, but what the hell, right? Is this guy stalking me?

“You heard me, Strawberry,” he says, his grin widening.

He’s referring to my hair, which in a childish act of rebellion, I dyed bright red six months before graduation and have maintained ever since. It’s also the reason Fran calls me Red instead of my real name.

“Strawberry?” I reply. “And what do they call you? Eggplant?”

I cover my mouth with my hand as soon as the word escapes my lips. But it’s too late, Mr. Jock is already laughing.

“Yeah, yeah they do,” he chuckles. “The girls do at least.”

“Oh, vom,” Fran groans.

“They call me Blue,” he says, pointing to his eyes, as though that’s supposed to mean something to me.

“Blue.”

“You don’t know me?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

“Should I?” I ask. He’s obviously some kind of athlete, but that’s all I know.

“Starting quarterback?” he continues. “On my way to the NFL?”

Oh, shit…

“Good for you,” Fran says.

“It is good for me,” he says to her, oozing with confidence. He turns his eyes back to me. “And you know what I think?”

“What?” I reply, almost afraid to ask.

“I think that we should fuck.”

My eyes almost bug out and I look over at Fran, who’s rolling hers so hard she looks like she’s about to pass out.

“I think the universe would like it,” he tells me. “You know—Red and Blue? Get together and make some purple?”

My heart’s fluttering like butterfly wings, and I realize my body is hot. Not as hot as his though…

There’s something going on between my legs that’s impossible to ignore, and definitely has something to do with his Adonis chin and model-esque cheek bones. Oh, and how I can feel muscles in his wrist that I didn’t even know existed.

“Does this pickup approach work on most girls?” I ask. Blue shrugs.

“Dunno. It’s not every day that I meet a girl who I’m destined to be with.”

I may be stubborn, and I do not want to admit it…but his lines are actually working on me. There’s a confidence to him that’s impossible to ignore. His eyes are hypnotic and his body—from what I can see of it—looks like something I’d kill to sketch…if he was nude, that is.

“Go away, dude,” Fran groans, doing her best to be a good roommate and come to my aid. But this time, I don’t want it.

“Do you mind if I’m a virgin?” I blurt out. I expect him to grimace or make some kind of disgusted face, but he doesn’t. In fact, his eyes blaze, and unless I’m imagining things, he licks his lips.

“Mind?” he asks, as though I’m batshit crazy. “Do I look like I mind?”

“No…” I whisper in reply, my excitement swelling within me.

“Good. Then how about this?” he suggests. “Why don’t you come by Briar House around eight after I get on practice and we’ll fix that little problem of yours. What do you say?”

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