The Southern Nights Series Page 4

  “To have a little fun.”

  “Fun? I forgot what fun is.”

  “Exactly. You need to be reminded. Go out and do something new. Something you’ve never done before.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. An image of Laney naked in my bed springs to mind. That would definitely be fun. But I know that’s not what he means. There’s not much to do in this small Alabama town besides off-roading, swimming in the lake, or hanging out at Sonic on a Saturday night.

  “I’ll work on it,” I tell him, a picture of Laney completely bare still dominating my thoughts.

  He smiles aloofly at me as I step off the treadmill. “Good.”

  I really want to ask him how much pot he smokes.

  I wipe the sweat off my brow, clasp hands with Dylan and confirm my appointment for Monday. One more week and I’ll be back at school. I can’t wait and am apprehensive all at the same time. It’s a really sucky place to be.

  Once home, I wait for Laney like the puppy I’ve become, always anxious for her arrival. Spending the last two months with her has been the only thing making this recovery bearable. It’s unbelievable how she can distract me from everything going on in my life. How she can make me forget I’m supposed to be Superman and just be satisfied being Clark Kent. No one has ever affected me like that before. And the more time we spend together, the more I want to tell her how she makes me feel. But every time I get the courage, she reminds me of our place. Strictly platonic. It doesn’t matter that she laughs at my jokes or her eyes blaze whenever I touch her. She keeps a safe distance between us. She doesn’t trust me, no matter how many hints I drop. And not just hints I want her physically. I want the total package—I want Laney to be my girlfriend. I didn’t think I was ever going to want that again, not after Cheyenne and her manipulative, self-centered ways. But Laney is nothing like her. It doesn’t matter to her that I’m some hometown celebrity put on a pedestal because I’m a football god. Or that I’m the Crimson Tide’s starting quarterback next year. She’s told me repeatedly football is just a game to her. She doesn’t understand the hype, and that is sort of refreshing. Although, sometimes I want to shake her so she understands just what a big deal it is around here, what a big deal it is to me. She can drive me crazy like no other, and for some reason I love it.

  I tried to kiss her last week. I couldn’t even control myself, but she retreated so fast, the room teetered. Being around her is becoming harder and harder. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know how to break down the door. I’m close to saying fuck it, tying her up, and shouting in her face with a megaphone: I like you! I want to be with you! I’m not going to hurt you! You’re not like the others!

  I would actually do it, too, if I thought it would work.

  I hear the doorbell. She’s finally here and she’s late. What’s that about? Then I remember that volleyball tryouts were this afternoon. Who knew my little, surly, city girl was an athlete at heart? Makes me love her even more.

  Laney comes bouncing into my room, her book bag slung over one shoulder and a pizza box in her hands.

  “Hey.” I smile brightly at her.

  “Hey.” She smiles back and drops her book bag onto the floor, never letting go of the pizza.

  “How were tryouts?”

  “Okay, I guess. We’ll see next week. This picking the players over the weekend is killer.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know why they do it that way. Stupid.”

  “Tell me about it,” she agrees as she puts the box on my desk and takes a seat in her chair. Yes, her chair. I’ve dubbed it that since it’s where she sits every night.

  “What’s with the food?” I ask with a chin thrust.

  “I thought since it was Friday and you’ve been working so hard, we’d forgo studying and just hang out.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “You want to just hang out, with me, tonight?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly.

  “Yes.” She giggles. She’s wearing that shirt again. The gray and black one with the number fourteen stamped across her chest. I don’t think there’s an article of clothing I find more appealing. Laney picks up her book bag and pulls out paper plates, napkins, and two bottles of soda. “I thought we’d give your mom the night off. My dad made the pizza for us.”

  “The famous Chef Riley cooked for me?” I sit up straighter on my bed.

  “He was thrilled to do it. I think he wants your autograph,” she informs me as she plates a piece of pizza for each of us. It smells out of this world. Laney hands me my slice. It’s square, which is odd, and there’re little circles of mozzarella all over the top of it.

  “Kam, what’s wrong, you look confused?” Laney asks as she sits next to me on the bed.

  “I’m not used to pizza looking like this,” I admit.

  Laney nearly falls over laughing. “It’s called a grandma pie, all fresh ingredients. My father made the mozzarella himself.”

  “He made the cheese? I can’t even begin to imagine how you make cheese.”

  “It’s a very involved process. Lots of kneading.” She smirks. “And you don’t ask Chef Riley to cook and expect store-bought ingredients.”

  “Well, I’ll send him a signed football for his trouble.”

  “Thank you.” She nibbles on her pizza.

  “You know, you could have just asked me.”

  “Asked you what?” She plays dumb.

  “For an autograph, if your dad wanted one.”

  “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Or make your ego any bigger than it already is.” She grins all cutesy at me.

  “You can ask me for anything, Lemon. I’ll never say no.”

  “You spoil me,” she jokes. I wish she knew how much I want to spoil her. Spend time with her, touch her, make her smile.

  “I can be a pretty good boyfriend, if given the chance.” Laney nearly chokes on her pizza, and I pat her back. “You okay?”

  “Fine . . . that statement was just surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, there are plenty of girls at school who would die to be your girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not interested in any of them.” I contest.

  “Really? That’s funny, I remember you being interested in Darla, Jen, Tammy, Lisa—”

  “Alright!” I cut her off there. “I get your point. But I wasn’t really ‘interested’ in them. We just hung out. I was always honest that I wasn’t looking for a relationship.”

  “And you are now?” Laney challenges me with sharp blue eyes.

  “Maybe I met someone I actually want to be with.” I hint.

  “Oh, really? I would love to meet her.”

  “I think you know her pretty well. She goes to school with us. She has dark hair with red streaks and big, beautiful, blue eyes. I call her Lemon.” There. I said it. A weight has been lifted, for now.

  “And she hates it, sort of.” Laney stares at me with mixed emotions.

  “Why do you hate it?”

  “Because, I don’t know if it’s just to toy with me or if you’re actually serious about your feelings.”

  “I liked you from the moment I met you.”

  “You like a lot of girls, Kam.”

  “Not the way I like you.” I sit up and put my plate down as I take Laney’s out of her hand. I’m going to be bold. I grab Laney’s wrist and pull her to me. She gasps but doesn’t pull away as I trap her against my body.

  “Kam—” She’s tense in my arms. Her heart is beating against my chest and the smell of her flowery perfume is enlivening all my senses.

  “Shhh.” I drop my head down so my mouth is an inch away from hers. This is my megaphone, screaming loud and clear that I want her. That I need her. “Laney, all I’m asking is that you give me a chance. One chance.”

  “One chance at what?” She whispers back.

  “To show you I’m not the guy you think I am.”

  She looks up at me with those big, blue
eyes and I melt. I’m hers, there’s no question. Now all I need is for her to be mine.

  “Fine, Kam.” She eyes me speculatively, a hint of humor dancing on her lips. “I’ll give you a chance to prove it.”

  “You will?” I sound a little more surprised than I mean to.

  “Yes.” She giggles.

  I lean in to kiss her, but she stops me by placing a finger on my mouth. “No. Prove to me we can hang out because you want me and not just my body.”

  “I want all of you,” I divulge truthfully.

  “Okay, then. So, tonight it’s just pizza and Xbox and if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you a kiss.”

  “With tongue?”

  “With tongue. I might even rub up against you.”

  “I can’t wait to start being good.”

  Laney brushes her lips across mine. My body goes berserk. “A good faith gesture.”

  I’m left utterly speechless. I’ve never encountered anyone so audacious, yet reserved, coy, and fearlessly transparent. Laney has me in awe.

  “Ready to get your butt kicked in Halo, country boy?”

  “Absolutely. Just as long as you’ll massage it after the beating.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  “I can.” I grab her face and plant a firm kiss right on her mouth. A little moan vibrates through her, and I’m elated. She melts against my body as I deepen the kiss just enough to tell her I want this. Want her.

  “I really hope you’re not fucking around, Kam,” Laney breathes with her eyes still closed after I pull away.

  “I’m not.” She flutters her eyelashes and shows me those penetrable sky blues. They’re the most susceptible I’ve ever seen them. Soft and hopeful. It’s the first time she’s allowing me see the emotion hidden behind her untrusting exterior. “Shall we let the ass-kicking commence?”

  She bites her lip as if contemplating something.

  “What?” I ask, trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.

  “What if I kicked your ass later and kissed you now?”

  “I’d say whatever you want, I want.”

  “Good answer, all-star.” Laney crawls on top of me and straddles my legs. My hormones go haywire as she presses her lips to mine, urgently sucking and tasting. I wrap my arms around her waist and flex my hips, letting her know exactly what she’s doing to me. She moans as our tongues clash together, rolling and flicking, forcing our bodies to grind together in a fit of passion.

  I much prefer the kissing to the ass kicking.

  I had no idea Friday night was going to be so much fun.

  I hold the football, palming it in one hand. It feels different. A stranger rather than the friend I had come to know. Some kids sleep with security blankets or stuffed animals when they’re young. I slept with a football tucked in my arm, dreaming about touchdown passes and the roar of the crowd. I always knew this was my destiny. What I was meant to do.

  I fire the ball at the tire swing, aiming for the hole and barely hit the perimeter. “Goddamn it!” I used to be able to throw pass after pass and hit my target every time. Now, I need to say a Hail Mary just to get it in the general vicinity. This is so fucking frustrating, and I can’t figure out what’s wrong. I have no control, and no matter how hard I concentrate, my ‘pinpoint accuracy’ is just gone, which makes my future and my life gone.

  “Kam!” Laney calls from behind me. I turn to see my silver-lining walking toward me. Her dark hair is down and flipping in the wind, a wide smile brightening her face. In such a short time, I’ve come to live for that expression. It’s rare, but when it happens, it’s like looking at pure gold.

  Seven days. That’s how long Laney and I have been together. And despite my obvious adversity, when I’m with her, the world doesn’t feel so dismal. “I was ringing the doorbell for like ten minutes.”

  “Sorry, I forgot my mom has book club tonight.” I peck her on the lips. “How did you know I was back here?”

  “I heard you curse. I didn’t think good ‘ol boys took God’s name in vain, only sinful, city folk.”

  “You’ve been living in Alabama too long, Lemon. You’re starting to talk like us.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into me, inhaling the strawberry scent of her hair.

  “It was bound to rub off on me eventually.”

  “I have something I can rub on you.”

  “I might like that.” She kisses my neck.

  “Don’t tease me, woman. We have the house to ourselves tonight.”

  “Who’s teasing?” She looks up at me deviously.

  “Hellcat.” I grab her ass so hard I nearly pull her off the ground, and she squeaks. “How was practice?” Yup, Laney made the volleyball team and I can’t wait to cheer her on.

  “Fine. How was your day?”

  “Uneventful.” I glance down at the snake pit of footballs in the bin beside us.

  “Still can’t throw right?” she asks sympathetically.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I respond sourly.

  “Show me.” She urges.

  “Show you what?” I regard her confused.

  “Show me how to throw a football.”

  “Are you being serious?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Yes. Don’t think I can do it?” She puts her hands on her hips.

  “I didn’t say that. I just never expected those words to come out of your mouth. I’m totally turned on.” I blink rapidly.

  “Foreplay.” Laney playfully reaches into the bin and pulls out a football. “Now, show me.” She turns the ball in her tiny hands, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier in my life. I’ve never dated anyone who played sports before, unless you count cheerleading. The fact that Laney is even entertaining the idea has my stomach doing back flips. I turn her around so her back is flush against my front.

  “Okay, pay attention, this is rocket science,” I warn. She giggles and presses her body harder against mine. It takes all the effort I can muster to concentrate on what I’m trying to do. Laney is very distracting. Especially when she’s this close and smells this good and is finally all mine.

  “First, your grip. Spread your fingers over the ball, two fingers between the laces.” I place my hand over hers. “Make sure there’s some air between your palm and the leather.”

  “Like this?” She listens impeccably and has a good hold on the ball.

  “Just like that.” I smile. This is way too much fun.

  “Next, stand with your feet apart and your knees slightly bent.” I turn her body sideways, never removing my arms from around her. “Now bring your arm up ninety degrees and pull the ball back. Keep everything tight. When you throw, bring your left elbow forward for momentum and push the ball off your index finger and thumb, rotating it under so it spirals.” I walk her through the motions with my hands and body so she can correlate my words to the movements.

  “Geez, you weren’t kidding when you said it was rocket science,” Laney jokes.

  “Once you get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing.”

  “So says the all-star quarterback.”

  “The former all-star quarterback,” I correct her.

  “I don’t see a former anybody,” Laney states simply, practicing what I just showed her. She has decent form, I’ll give her that.

  “Ready to fire this pigskin?” I grin.

  “Let’s do it.” She pumps herself up.

  “Once, together.” I circle my arms back around her, place my right hand over hers on the ball and position my left arm, taking her hand in mine. Two bodies one motion, sort of like having sex. Laney wasn’t kidding when she said foreplay. I’m totally turned on. I pull her arm back, and in one fluid motion we throw the ball. The spiral is a little off, but it hits the tire close to the hole. I think that was my best throw of the day.

  “Okay, got it. Let me try.” Laney pulls another ball out of the blue bin. I watch entertained as she positions her hands and takes her stance. Holy crap, I c
an’t control the bulge growing behind my zipper. I’m fucking loving this.

  Laney concentrates on the tire hanging a few meters away from us. I think I’m finally getting a glimpse of Sporty Spice. I can’t wait to see her on the volleyball court. She snaps her arm back, and with all her might, throws the football. It teeters in the air, not quite getting a good spin, but hits the tire, nonetheless. No, not a terrible first shot.

  “Crap.” Laney goes for another ball.

  “What, that wasn’t bad.”

  “That sucked.” Her voice pitches.

  “It hit the tire,” I point out.

  “It didn’t spin. And I didn’t get it through the hole.”

  “Lemon, that’s expecting a lot your first try.”

  She shoots me a death glare. Holy hell, my girl is a competitor. I guess I should have known that. She’s been going head-to-head with me since the moment I met her.

  Laney winds up again, her eyes keen as she focuses on the tire. She throws the ball and this time it spins beautifully through the air. It bounces off the tire and dies on the ground.

  “Nice, Lemon.” I clap. “That’s how to do it.”

  “Once more.” She goes for another football. My face lights up. I could watch this all night. Laney grips the football with both hands like she’s trying to become familiar with the feel of the leather. I can’t wait till she touches me like that. If I have anything to say about it, it will be tonight. My whole body is throbbing from just the thought. Once she’s done, she takes her stance, angling her body and drawing the football up behind her head. The fire in her eyes is bright. Laney hurls the ball and it once again rotates perfectly though the air, except this time, instead of bouncing off the rubber of the tire, it soars straight through the hole. “Yes!” Laney jumps into my arms.

  “Fuck me.” My mouth is hanging open. She did it. The first time ever throwing a football and she sinks it. “Did you just play me, city girl?”

  “No. I just had a good teacher.” She wraps her legs around my waist. I’m not buying it.

  “You lying?” I probe.

  “Nope. I hate liars. You really are a good teacher. And I’m a little athletic, so I’m sure that helped.” She beams.

  “I think it did.” I kiss her neck. She moans and the strain in my pants can’t take it anymore. I turn toward the house and start walking.