“That was until you were annihilating me. A dude has to save his pride.”
We’ve been playing Mario Kart in Lincoln’s room for the past hour, playing every tournament, and sharing Chinese food that we ordered for a late lunch, early dinner.
After breakfast in bed, we stayed there for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep, me resting on his shoulder, Lincoln combing his hands through my hair—which has got to be the most erotic and relaxing feeling ever. Just knowing his talented, sexy hands are pressing into my scalp is enough to make me drool and beg for more.
When we woke up, Lincoln didn’t ask if I wanted to leave, but instead asked if I wanted to get some Chinese food and since it’s Sunday, my day off, I figured there was nothing wrong with spending it with Lincoln. We both took quick showers while we waited for the food. I changed into the shorts from earlier and one of his Brentwood Baseball shirts, minus my bra. He changed into an outfit very similar and then teased me about being twins.
After we finished our food, Lincoln brought out his Nintendo Wii, and we’ve been playing games ever since. It started with Tetris and has moved on. When I asked him why he had a Wii and not an Xbox like every other college guy out there, he said he was a sucker for Mario. It’s why he keeps the console in his room. I thought it was an adorable answer and it made me want to stay with him longer.
“I’m in first. I swear to God, you better not shoot me with anything,” he says, his body tense next to mine, concentrated on the TV.
“Uh, okay,” I say, just as I drive through a mystery box. When it gives me three green shells, I swear to the high heavens. Green shells are useless when trying to pass people. You risk shooting them off and then running into your own shell when it bounces off the side.
The telltale alert of Lincoln crossing the finish line sounds through the speakers. He pumps the air with his fist, tosses his controller, then flops back on the bed.
“Jesus Christ, I’m sweating.”
I finish the race, coming in third, and toss my remote as well. I turn to him and take in the way he’s lying next to me so casually, hands linked behind his head, his biceps stretching the fabric of his shirt.
“I can’t believe you blew me up.”
“Not even sorry about it.” I turn toward him, making sure I’m scowling my best scowl. He scoots up the bed so he’s against the headboard, ignoring said scowl, so I lean against the wall, then drape my legs over his. “You were getting a free ride and it wasn’t fair.”
“You were getting the same ride.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs. “You kept accidentally hitting me with shit.” I smile and he points at me. “See, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“It’s called playing strategically.”
His hand falls to my knee and he gives it a squeeze, sending a lightning bolt of lust straight up my inner thigh. “It’s called being a liar.”
I try not to concentrate on the feeling of his hand on my leg, or the way his thumb is slowly rubbing my kneecap.
“Call it what you want, but I still beat you.”
“You’re also aggressive with your elbows.” He lifts his hand from my knee to rub his other arm. “I think I have some bruises from your combative driving.”
“Poor baby.” I reach out and rub his arm.
“You hit me lower.” I move my hand. “Lower.” He smiles. “Little bit lower. You actually hit me in the crotch, if you would rub that, I’d appreciate it.”
“In your dreams, Castle,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure that situation has been a highlight of my dreams.
Knock. Knock.
We both look toward the door as Lincoln calls out, “Come in.”
The door opens and Asher pokes his head through the crack. “Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll uh, catch you later.”
“Hey, wait,” Lincoln calls out before Asher can shut the door. “What’s up, man?”
Asher quickly looks at me, and I realize he probably wants to talk about last night and there’s no way he’ll do that in front of me. The guy is way too shy and way too private.
“Uh, you know, I should get back home, get ready for the school week,” I say, sensing Asher’s needs.
“No, you don’t have to do that,” Asher says. “I’ll just talk to Lincoln later.”
“No, it’s good, really. Just let me gather my things and then I’ll call an Uber.”
Lincoln settles his hand on my knee and says to Asher, “Let me drop Indie off and then I’ll be back. Does that work?”
He looks between us, indecisive, but finally he nods. “Yeah, that works. Take your time. No rush.”
He quietly shuts the door and I turn toward Lincoln. “You are so going to get the details about the girl in the yellow dress.”
“I would love to spend more time with you, but sorry, Mayhem, this trumps that right now. I’m practically frothing at the mouth to find out what happened.”
“I would be too.” I hop off the bed and grab my folded-up clothes from last night. “Let me change quickly and then you can take me home.”
“Don’t bother. Just give me back my clothes another time. I probably have enough Brentwood baseball shirts to outfit the entire women’s soccer team.”
“Okay.”
Lincoln stands from the bed, stretches, and then grabs my hand. “Let’s go, Mayhem.”
Surprisingly, we don’t run into anyone on the way out. I was nervous about seeing Deacon while wearing Lincoln’s clothes, especially the day after a party, but he was MIA, as well as the other guys.
Lincoln opens the passenger side door for me and then rounds the front and hops in. He starts the engine, grabs the gear shift, and takes off.
My house is pretty close, so we don’t have much time in the car together. “Thank you for the day. It was probably one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in a really long time.”
“Me too,” Lincoln says, keeping his eyes focused on the road. “I had a really good time, even if you’re a liar and a cheater.”
“See it how you want, but I’m sticking to what I said. It was strategy.”
“Brutal, Mayhem.” He stops at a stop sign, and then turns right. It might be a weird thing to say, but I love watching him drive. He’s so casual—relaxed—one hand slung over the steering wheel, the other gripping the gear shift, his feet moving back and forth over the pedals. It’s sexy, and when he offered to drive me home, I didn’t even put up a fight, because I wanted to see him in his Jeep again. I wanted to spend extra time with him. “Are you getting excited about your first game this coming Saturday? It’s a home game, right?”
“Yeah. I’m excited, ready. I think we still have some kinks to work out, but that’s how it always is at the start of the season.”
“I’m glad we have a fall season where we can work those kinks out before our spring season starts. Gives us a good idea of the level of play the freshmen are coming in at too.”
He turns left down my street and I see my house come into view. A shot of disappointment ricochets through my chest as he pulls into my driveway.