Power Plays & Straight A's - Eden Finley Page 0,69
you don’t miss me at all.”
“I can assure you that’s not the case. Have you already forgotten my need for attention?”
“I do like it when you’re needy.”
He makes me laugh. “You’re exhibiting those alpha male traits we’ve discussed.”
His response is to squeeze my ass and stand. I scramble to grab his neck and lock my ankles behind his back.
“Y-you’re supposed to give me warning first.”
It’s interesting how deeply our animal instincts run. Every time Foster shows off his strength, I’m putty in his hands. I understand what’s happening, but the chemicals overriding my brain are addictive.
“I like hearing you squeak.”
“Excuse me, I don’t squeak.”
“You squeak, and it’s adorable.”
I pretend to scowl at him, but it clearly has no effect because he laughs.
“That’s adorable too.”
“One day you’ll be terrified of me.”
“You have no idea.” He swats my ass and I, well, I certainly do not squeak. My feet drop to the ground. “As sexy as you look right now, you need to get changed.”
“Why?”
“I wanna get out of the room for a bit. We leave for another game tomorrow which means another few days until I see you again.”
I sigh dramatically. “The ails of dating the great Foster Grant.”
“You really are a lucky guy.”
I wriggle back into my jeans and pull my hoodie on over Foster’s shirt. I shrug on my coat since it’s close to freezing outside, but I didn’t bring a hat with me, so Foster gets one of his beanies and pulls it down to cover my ears.
He studies me for a moment then drops his head back. “I take it back. I’m the lucky one.”
I will never understand.
Foster holds my hand as we cross campus. The Halloween decorations have disappeared, and the trees are prematurely strung with Christmas lights.
There are a lot of people out for a November evening. It’s fascinating. Are they not worried about the cold? Or are they determined to make the most of their nights before the snow sets in?
We’re not out for long before my nose feels like ice and we take refuge in the coffee shop I like. The one where the baristas know not to engage me in conversation. I buy our drinks since Foster did last time, and we find a corner booth. Someone is playing a guitar on the other side of the café, and with the low lighting and Foster’s warmth against my back, I feel sleepy and content.
Our drinks arrive along with a massive good luck cookie the barista says is on the house. CU and its hockey, I swear. That doesn’t stop me from splitting the treat with Foster while I tease him about all his fans.
“It’s a hardship”—he sighs—“but it got me the sexiest guy on campus, so I’m not complaining.”
I tilt my head. “Topher?”
Foster chokes on his drink. “You little shit.” His fingers dig into my ribs, and I laugh as I squirm away. “First, you know I’m talking about you. And second, you’d better think I’m the hottest guy here or we’re gonna have words.”
“I’m sorry. Did I damage your incredibly fragile athlete’s ego?”
“There’s nothing fragile about me, Zach.”
I can’t disagree there. I’m not even talking about physically, although his body is something out of my wet dreams. He’s so self-assured and confident, I can’t imagine him ever doubting anything. “Except your boyfriend.”
“There’s nothing fragile about you either.” His gaze tracks over my body and immediately my cheeks start to warm.
“What have I said about looking at me like that in public?”
“Never stop?”
“I’m certain it was the opposite.”
He scrunches up his face like he’s thinking. “Nope. That can’t be the case. I’d never agree.”
“And why not?”
“Because it makes your face turn my favorite shade of pink.”
I snort-laugh, and Foster pulls me closer so we’re facing each other and my legs are resting over his. It’s nice to hang out, as boyfriends, when I’m not worried about the end of the school year and what happens when he graduates and I’m still here. That’s so far in the future, and I’ve promised myself to take this thing one week at a time. To not overthink it.
As we sit there quietly, it’s impossible to miss the looks we’re getting. They happen no matter where we go, and I haven’t worked out why yet. My two main theories boil down to the fact that we’re two men showing affection as openly as we deserve to, or the fact it’s Foster Grant being affectionate with a man.