Текст книги "That Boy"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“I did read your interview. In fact you might be interested to know that this fraternity house was built in 1957. It has some very interesting architectural details.”

Oh really? Let me guess, you want to give me a tour?

“You know, I've heard about this house practically my whole life. Phillip's dad and my dad belonged to this fraternity and lived here.”

“Well, in that case, I bet you would love a tour.” His gaze is predatory.

Now I do remember hearing that rule. No tours. I'm looking around for Phillip, hoping he'll return with my beer. I'd really like to have something to keep my mouth occupied.

“Maybe later,” I say politely, not completely refusing. “So this interview stuff, seems to me it's just a way for you guys to get the inside scoop on the new crop. Let me guess, tomorrow night you will sit around a fire and score the girls?”

He has an expression of surprise on his face that leads me to believe that is exactly what they will do.

“Who told you that?” he whispers, leaning in closer to me. I can feel his warm breath on my neck and I can smell him. He smells different from Phillip, more like soap, but still nice.

“You really do that?” I laugh in disbelief, yet I can totally picture it. It is so very much something boys would do.

I'm on a roll now, so I take another stab in the dark. “And the scores, are they based on looks or how, um, friendly the girls are?”

“You're not supposed to know about this,” he whispers in my ear again.

I really don't think it's a big secret. I think he's just trying to get to me.

It's working.

“I'd say we rank the girls on their ability to make friends,” he states, like a not so truthful politician.

“So hypothetically, let's say I kiss you tonight, what kind of ranking would I get?” I flirt.

“One star.”

I give him an insulted look, and then I try to make my face look sexy.

“What if I'm really good at it?”

“Still only one star,” he responds, like sorry.

“I see. So what if I were to say, strip naked and dance on a table?”

He grins, “Although that is something I would very much enjoy seeing, I'm afraid it would net you no stars. It's kind of like the difference between a spectator sport and a contact sport.”

Ah, I get it.

“So are you going to kiss me?”

“No,” I respond, shaking my head like it is the furthest thing from my mind.

I am so lying, because it's right up there at the top. All I can think about really.

“Well, how are you going to earn any stars? You strike me as a competitive girl.”

Oh, I am such a tease.

“I didn't say I wasn't going to kiss anyone.”

“Ah,” he says, holding his chest, “break my heart.”

Yeah, I'm sure.

“Actually I'm joking. I doubt I'll kiss anyone tonight.”

“What? Surely you don't want to be the ONLY girl here without a star to her name?”

He thinks this comment is like a dare to me. That I will be dying to get a kiss, so I can be like everyone else. I somehow doubt every girl here will get kissed tonight, but obviously he has yet to figure me out, cuz that sounds like a challenge to me.

“You know, I think that is exactly what I'd like to be.”

“So do you always get exactly what you want?”

Uh no, not really, but I think my luck is changing.

Matt is grinning at me like I'm the new Christmas toy he really wanted, but can't play with yet because he hasn't read the instructions.

“If I have anything to say about it, yeah, I guess I usually do,” I answer truthfully.

I'm feeling a little full of myself tonight, and I'm having fun.

And it's true. If I want it and I can do something to make it happen, I usually will.

Jerk boys who date sluts and car accidents are things I just can't control. Mr. Diamond has been telling me that over and over. Only deal with what you can control, JJ.

“So let me guess,” he says, finally releasing my hand and pretending to hold an interview sheet to the side of his head like a psychic.

“Ah yes, I have it. Prom queen, cheerleader, dated the quarterback, voted prettiest eyes. Am I close?”

“One. You already told me you read my interview. And Two. Those things weren't even on there.”

“So humor me.”

“Ehh....50-50.” I hold my hand out flat and tilt it back and forth. “No to prom queen, hell no to cheerleader, yes to the quarterback,” I say with a roll of my eyes and then a pointed look. “But Jake turned out to be an asshole. And yes,” I say, batting my eyelashes, “to the eyes.”

Matt leans into me, pushes my long bangs out of the way and gazes straight into my eyes, “Yeah, total bedroom eyes.”

I try not to get flustered, but this guy is kind of unnerving me.

Okay, really unnerving me.

So I go back to being a smart ass, hoping to diffuse this time bomb standing next to me.

“How about you? Have you already picked your victims for tonight?” I lower my voice and whisper huskily, “I heard you're practically a legend around here.”

He shrugs and looks slightly embarrassed.

Figures. If I were a guy, he'd be entertaining me with stories about past victims, but since I'm a girl, the predator has turned into Mr. Shy and Innocent.

“So is there a record for the number of stars given out by one guy?” I say, changing the subject. But then I think and add, “Please don't say my dad.”

He chuckles. “Well, there are 2 records, actually.” He looks around, like he's about to give me top secret information, and then whispers meaningless names, numbers, and dates into my ear.

“And your personal best?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He squints at me in irritation.

I decide to make him a bit more uncomfortable. I stand closer to him and poke my finger gently on his chest, “Hey, you're the one that wanted me to get to know you.”

He looks me in the eyes, trying to stall, but finally says, “It's private.”

“Okay, so now you've got me curious.”

He shrugs.

“Fine. I'll just have to take a guess.”

“Hmm,” I lick my lips then put my finger to my mouth and rub my bottom lip, supposedly thinking. Really I just want him to look at my mouth. “Practically legendary status, but no records.” I lean into him and whisper a wild guess into his ear.

I can tell immediately that I nailed it, or came pretty darn close. The instant shocked look on his face is a dead giveaway.

My, my.

“Seems like we both tend to get what we want.” I can't help but smirk at him. He is fun to tease.

He is embarrassed and obviously doesn't want to talk about it.

I look around and see that Phillip is kissing a girl with bouncy brown hair. Jeez, when did the boy learn to work so fast? Maybe this fraternity thing will be good for him. I mean, I'm very impressed.

I'm also half tempted to go check in with him right now, just to make a point, but I don't.

He should have some fun.

“So how am I going to get a kiss from you,” he whines, “if you won't kiss anyone?”

“Look, I promise, pinky swear,” I say, holding up my pinkie. “I owe you a kiss.”

“You know, I haven't quite figured out if I should attack you or go into businesses with you,” he says, as he grabs my pinkie with his.

I grin at that.

He laughs, and for the first time, I see a wonderful, genuine smile on his face. I like it. “Come to my room,” he says, in a silky voice, “I have some really good tequila. We'll do a quick shot or two.”

Sure we will, and what else will we do?

I am contemplating my next move, when a really great song starts playing. “Come on, dance with me first.” I pull his arm toward the dance floor.

He stands firm, pulls me back and says, “I don't dance until I've had a minimum of two shots. Sorry, it's a rule.”

“Well, rules were meant to be broken.”

But he shakes his head no.

So I take a different approach and purr innocently, “You mean you can't wrap your arms around me,” I gently run my fingers down the sides of his arms, “put your body close to mine and sway slowly,” I smile, close my eyes and sway slightly in front of him, “until you've had two shots?”

“It's not a slow song,” he says, but he is weakening, I can tell.

“Close enough,” I reply and drag him out there.

We dance slowly to the fast music and he takes full advantage of the closeness by letting his hands do a lot of roaming.

I don't mind it though. There's something about him that I really like. He's like, challenging. This isn't your typical, no brain, stupid game playing, but more like a chess match.

Your move, my move, your move.

I actually have to think about this.

I find it intriguing, and let's face it, most of the guys I've dated weren't exactly brain surgeons. This mental sparring is very stimulating.

In many ways.

After a few songs, I excuse myself to use the restroom and run some lipgloss across my lips. When I get back out, I don't see Matt anywhere. Maybe I scared him away. I'm half hoping that's the case.

I reach down and grab a beer from a cooler on the floor next to me. Just as I stand back up, I realize Matt has snuck up on me and is standing very close to my side.

I laugh and shake my head at his persistence, “Don't you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Yeah,” he whispers in my ear and holds his mouth there.

“Where?”

“In you.”

His voice is low and silky. I hadn't realized two simple words could sound so damn sexy.

But then my eyes get big at that comment when I realize what he meant.

Whew, is it hot in here all of a sudden?

Shit. I think I may be speechless.

That never happens.

I know.

I know what you're thinking. I am too.

It's a total line.

But I have to admit, it's given me goose bumps and made my stomach flutter. Plus, I love having my ear whispered into. Something so hot about that.

I recover from the blatantly suggestive comment, back up, and nod my head in appraisal. “A quick and a dirty mind. I like that.”

He swings around to face me, very much invading my personal space again and pinning me up against the wall.

“So am I ever gonna get this kiss you promised me?” He's practically begging.

“Jeez, you are so obsessed with a stupid kiss.” I roll my eyes at him. “Can't you just relax?”

He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with smoldering eyes. Eyes that leave me no doubt what the answer to the question is.

It's no.

Unequivocally, no. He can't.

Sweet.

“Fine,” I say diplomatically, as I reach into his pocket to retrieve the marker.

He is looking both surprised and happy at where my hand is, but then looks disappointed when I pull out the marker and hold it in front of him. I make a grand gesture of taking the lid off. I grab his hand, write I O U A on his palm, then bring my mouth down to his hand.

I am being so bad, I almost shock myself.

I close my eyes and press my lips slowly into his palm.

I swear, I think I hear him groan.

Ha! Who knew practicing kissing your hand would ever pay off.

I open my eyes slowly, look at him through lidded eyes and hold his gaze for a few seconds. I assess the pink kiss mark on his hand and then drop it very unceremoniously. “There. You have it in writing. I owe you. Now, how about that shot?”

Yes, I do go to his room. Breaking one of Phillip's Rules.

But what the hell, right?

His room is decorated in typical guy. Crap tossed most everywhere. He walks over to a mini frig and pulls out a chilled bottle of some supposedly expensive tequila and a lime. He grabs two shot glasses, salt, a knife, and here we go.

In preparation for the shot, he quarters a lime, pours the shots and hands me the salt. Just as I'm about to lick my hand, Matt grabs it and slowly runs his tongue across it, all while staring straight into my eyes.

Wow.

He is so hot.

And his intentions are so clear.

He pours some salt on my hand and quickly does his own. We clink the glasses and down our first shot.

You know I'm wondering, does he always have this stuff lying around or was it purchased just for tonight? The good news is, I saw him break the seal on the tequila, so I don't have to worry about anything getting put into my drink.

We do another shot, after he toasts to IOUs, and somehow I persuade him to go back out to dance.

See. I escaped his room without harm. I'll have to tell Phillip that his rules are stupid.

Or not. I would probably get a lecture on how lucky I was this time.

It's getting a little late and the music has slowed down. We dance some more, very close.

I'm feeling the tequila and dancing close to him like this is starting to drive me nuts. Time for that kiss, I think!

“So, are you planning on collecting that IOU tonight or some other night?”

He thinks I want him to ask me out on a date.

“Uh, some other night?”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

This time he answers with a wide sexy smile, “Tonight,” he nods. “Definitely tonight.”

“Good. We're getting out of here though. If we're not in the frat house the kiss can't go on my record. Right?” I give him my best bedroom eyes, trying to convince him, although I think he'd agree to just about anything at this point.

He nods yes at me, and I drag him out the front door. We're barely out the door, when he pushes me up against the wall and tries to kiss me. I quick put my hand up to his mouth to stop him.

He looks at me with frustration. I grab the IOU and hold it up to his face.

“I owe you, remember? Not the other way around. Why don't you relax, and let me kiss you?”

I pull him around the side of the house. Behind some bushes.

Tacky I know, but hey, they were there.

I gaze at him intently. He follows my gaze down to the front of his oxford where I unbutton a few of his top buttons. I start the IOU by spreading his shirt open and kissing the upper part of his chest. Next, I move up to his neck, all very slowly and very deliberately. Eventually, I work my way up to his mouth.

I'm fairly sure I paid my IOU in full.

And I enjoyed it. A lot.

I did leave the party later, much later, but with Phillip as planned.

After a few dates with Matt, whether or not I would ever lose my virginity was no longer an issue. We were pretty much inseparable. I was convinced that, just like my mom, I had met the love of my life as a freshman. Matt treated me well and had almost earned Phillip and Danny's stamp of approval. But when we got back from Christmas break, he informed me that he had sort of gotten engaged to a girl from home. Sort of meaning: I gave her a ring, she's planned the wedding, bought a dress and booked the church for June. I have to admit, I was crushed. I really thought he was the one. That's also when Phillip decided to tell me he always knew Matt was too slick to be trusted. I asked Phillip to please give me an honest opinion of the next guy at the beginning of the relationship, otherwise to keep his big mouth shut with the I told you so's when it ended.

However, looking back, I'm now convinced there should be a university-wide mandate, just like the one that says that freshmen should live on campus, so they can experience the social aspects of college properly, that freshman girls should not date one guy exclusively.

Because if you liken the boys available to date at your high school to a meal, then you'd be choosing that meal from a half-filled vending machine.

But at college, choosing a boy to date is like choosing a meal from the biggest, most incredible, All-You-Can-Eat Buffet ever imagined.

And there will be no dieting for me!

Hmm, lets see, I think I'll start with a couple of frat pledges, the buff wrestler in sociology class, and the more mature, but totally hot, history grad assistant. Then maybe one of those football players, that hottie who always seems to be on the treadmill next to me when I work out, maybe I'll even have some of that cute photographer.

College is so awesome!

It's really too bad they try to ruin it with classes!

Sophomore year, there were more big changes in my life. They were good changes though because I decided to make them. First, I sold the house I grew up in. This was a difficult decision, but it was getting hard to keep up and was really just sitting there empty all the time.

The Mackenzies and Diamonds helped me go through everything. They advised me on what I should pack up and keep, and what we should sell.

For example, I kept all the pictures and videos of our family, the cedar hope chest Dad gave to Mom before they were married, Mom's wedding dress, Grandma's dining room set and china, things like that. The rest got sold at a big auction. The Diamonds offered to buy the empty lot next door. They didn't want to miss our annual Thanksgiving Day football game!

Mr. Diamond has been handling the estate and helping me with financial decisions. He really has been doing his best to fill in for my dad. I don't know what I would do without him. We took some of the money from the sale of the house and bought a town home in Lincoln. It's new and within walking distance of the university.

I'm sure in a ploy to keep me safe, the Macs and Diamonds suggested that Danny and Phillip live with me. Which is fine by me. We get along great and our place is SO cool!

It has three bedrooms and a very open floor plan.

At first, the boys said they didn't care how it was decorated.

“Whatever you think is right,” Danny had said.

So just to prove a point, Mrs. Mac and I got a swatch of this really ugly pink and purple floral fabric and managed to tell the boys, with a straight face, that we were thinking of ordering a couch in it.

All of a sudden, they cared.

With the moms' guidance, we had the walls painted a neutral golden color and the trim white. The kitchen has dark wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances. It was supposed to have a wall separating it from the living room, but since we picked it out while it was still being built, we changed it so there is a long bar area instead. The formal dining room has a pool table in the middle of it, and the walls are decorated with beer signs and Nebraska football memorabilia.

The living room looks like a Pottery Barn catalog, with two red leather club chairs and soft, slouchy khaki ultra suede couches. There are fun pillows and funky curtains that Mrs. Mac made using a bold, geometric patterned fabric in khaki, red, and golden yellow.

And God forbid, I should forget to mention the huge TV, sound, and gaming system.

I should warn, if you are on a budget of any kind or even have any kind of time constraints, don't take boys with you to the electronics store!

Just go by yourself, and buy a damn TV.

With the boys involved in this decision, what should have been a simple task, took three very lengthy trips to the store, nights of on-line comparisons, and I'm certain we could have fed a small country on what was spent.

Anyway, I really like the way it has all turned out. We even brought the big hot tub from my house and put it on the patio. We use that thing all the time!

We don't have big parties or anything, I've seen what parties can do to a house and want no part of that! But there always seem to be people over. Danny believes in taking good care of his offensive line, since they have to take care of him, so they're over most Sundays during football season. They play pool and watch pro football games all day. I usually end up cooking and am always making yummy treats for everybody.

Phillip's Frat brothers tend to hang out at their House, but a few of them come over for FAC (Friday Afternoon Club). And of course, with so many cute boys around, many of my sorority sisters enjoy frequent visits as well.

I feel like I'm freezing to death. My body is achy, my throat and neck are really sore, and I think my glands are swollen.

I hate to admit it, but I may very well be coming down with something.

It's a Tuesday night and instead of being at the bar with Phillip and some friends, I'm in the library doing research for a paper that is due in two weeks. I'm actually trying to get a head start on it, which is something I never do. I tend to wait until the last minute.

I have always said that I do my best work under pressure.

And really, I do.

The teacher for this class is adamant about us using the library and not just the Internet for our research. We have to have five sources that came from the library, so I'm trying to get the five stupid sources out of the way, then I can use the Internet to do the bulk of the research.

But I'm starting to feel really bad. Actually, I haven't felt great for a couple of weeks, but I've been doing my best to ignore it.

Maybe I'm allergic to the library. I wonder if that could get me out of this stupid paper.

Probably not.

I give up on the resources and go home to an empty house. I take off my clothes, put on a pair of really warm sweat pants, and then raid Danny's room for an old practice jersey. I love those shirts because they are big and soft and silky. The shirt is huge on me, but feels great. I ease myself into bed and snuggle under my covers in an attempt to get warmed up.

I doze off for a little while and when I wake up, I feel even worse.

I am definitely sick.

I wish Mom was here. She always spoiled me when I was sick.

I really miss her and Dad.

Then I think of the next best thing and call Phillip's cell.

He answers with a cheerful, “Hey.”

There's a lot of laughing and noise in the background. It sounds like they're already having a great time.

I hate missing a great time.

“Phillip,” I whine, “when are you coming home?”

“Not for a while. Are you done at the library? You gonna come join us? You know we're all at Kegger's, right?”

“Oh,” I say quietly.

“What's wrong?” He reads my voice and knows since I didn't say, I'll be right there, something must be wrong.

“Nothing Phillip, I just don't feel very good.” I sorta start to cry. “Um, well, I feel really bad and I'm all alone,” I sniffle.

“I'll be right there.” I hear him tell everyone, I gotta go, before he shuts his phone.

I'm really lucky to have Phillip, I think, as I fall back to sleep.

I feel a hand on my forehead and wake to find Phillip at my side.

“My God, Princess, you're burning up! Have you taken your temperature?”

I shake my head no and close my eyes. My eyelids burn.

Phillip runs in the bathroom and grabs a thermometer. Then he sits on my bed and says, “Here, open your mouth.”

I do, putting the thermometer under my tongue, while Phillip uncovers me.

My whole body is shaking. I really have the chills.

The thermometer beeps and Phillip reads it.

“Gee-zuz, it's 105. I'm taking you to the hospital!”

He scoops me up out of bed, carries me to the car and gets me to the hospital.

At the hospital, I'm given some medicine to help bring the fever down.

The doctor is concerned that I might have meningitis because my neck hurts so badly.

A nurse took some blood and swabbed both my nose and my throat. I am hoping the tests show something because I really do not want a needle stuck into my spine!! I've been admitted to the hospital and am in a room by myself. I'm feeling a bit better because my fever is down to 102 degrees. At least it doesn't hurt to blink anymore.

My doctor, Dr. Daniels, steps in and tells me to start thinking of whom I may have had close contact with recently.

He hands Phillip a little hospital notepad.

“How close of contact?” I ask him.

“Physical contact,” he says simply, as he reads my chart.

Maybe I'm delirious from the fever, but it seems like he's making this difficult.

So I ask for more clarification, “Like just being around them or actual physical contact?”

He stops reading my chart, looks at me like I'm blonde and says, “Physical contact. Like kissing.”

“We may need more paper for that, Doc,” Phillip, the comedian in the corner says.

“Shut up, Phillip,” I glare at him.

But he continues, “Just bring in the student directory. We can use a highlighter, might go faster.”

I try to ignore Phillip and ask the doctor another question.

“How far back does this contact have to go?”

“Oh, just a couple of weeks,” the doctor says.

“Why?”

“Well, meningitis can be very contagious and dangerous. It can spread quickly at colleges, but we can treat anyone you've been in contact with if we need to. We'll have a better idea of what we're dealing with when your tests come back.”

“What about Phillip?” I nod toward the comedian.

“I doubt a kiss on the forehead counts,” Phillip says with his bratty voice.

“Are you two related?” the doctor smiles and asks Phillip.

“No, we're roommates,” I say, before Phillip has a chance to make another smart ass remark.

“You're right,” the doctor tells him. “A kiss on the forehead should be safe. How are you feeling? Any symptoms?”

“Well my back is pretty sore from carrying this lug in here,” Phillip responds, nodding at me.

“Shut. Up. Phillip.” He is so embarrassing me.

The doctor's beeper goes off. He frowns at it and says, “Excuse me. I'll be right back.”

I'm thinking about who I kissed last week, when a memory comes rushing into my head. I put my hand up to my mouth and say, “Oh God, Phillip. Where's Danny? Have you seen him today? Is he feeling okay?”

Phillip looks at me, stunned. He's wondering why I would be worried about Danny, but then he puts two and two together and asks incredulously, “Danny? You kissed Danny?”

I smile half a smile and shake my head.

“On the lips?”

Hey, I'm sick here. Stop asking me so many questions.

“Uh, yeah.”

“When?” He give me a stern look. “And more importantly, why?”

Okay, so I appreciate the fact that he was concerned about me, left the bar and brought me here, but I don't think this is any of his business and tell him so.

“None of your business, Phillip.”

He looks unhappy with me. Maybe I'll just mess with Mr. Nosy a little.

So I sigh, like I'm ready to spill my guts.

“Fine. It was a few days ago and it was nothing, really. Just Danny, being Danny.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, he just walked in the door and kissed me. You know Danny, he doesn't have to have a reason. He just does stuff.”

Phillip is sitting in the corner with his mouth open. The look on his face cracks me up, but I try not to smile.

It's good to know that I can be very sick and still have a sense of humor.

After his constant slamming of me in front of the doctor, well, he deserves this.

“It's not that big of a deal, Phillip, we just kissed some, and well,” I say with a shrug, “one thing led to another, and we spent the afternoon in bed.”

Don't I wish.

Kinda.

Really, I'm not sure why Danny and I never have slept together. We have definitely hooked up on occasion, but it's never gone that far. And Danny hasn't kissed me in front of Phillip since Prom night. Our relationship, from a kissing standpoint, is kinda weird, if I think about it. I guess the whole it will ruin us thing sits in the back of both of our minds. But we have a little tradition of making out when he's depressed, or had a bad game or is hurt or something. I think I'm comforting to him. He always tells me that he can't deal with other girls after a loss, so we meet in our booth at the back of the bar, or at a party or somewhere, get drunk and make out. Then we come back home and act like it never happened. Danny is a typical athlete. He'll wear the same socks if he gets on a winning streak, and he's never had two losses in a row, if we kiss after a loss. So I hate to admit it, but sometimes I am not as upset as I should be when the Huskers lose, cuz I know Danny and I will have fun that night. Maybe that's it. We both know that it's just for fun. I always tease him and tell him he needs to marry a girl just like Phillip, someone calm, organized and responsible. Of course, that's when he tells me, you need to marry Phillip.

And if I am really being truthful, I sometimes wish Phillip would kiss me.

I mean how many guys would ditch the girl they are dating to come home and take care of you?

But that is a whole other topic.

I glance at Phillip, who's eyes have gotten even bigger. I didn't think it was possible, but they do.

He is sooo jealous, it's hilarious and I can't help it, I feel a wicked pleasure in that.

“Don't look so freaked out. Neither one of us is dating anyone seriously, and you know, there's always been this attraction…”

My story is interrupted by the doctor walking back in the room. He picks my chart up and continues reading it.

I have to tell you, the look on Phillip's face is totally priceless. I really wish I had a camera.

I bite my lip and try to suppress a smile.

Phillip sees my smirk. “You're shitting me, aren't you?”

Then he gives me that glare. The glare that always makes me spill my guts, whether I want to or not.

Normally I try to fight it, to no avail, but I don't even try today.

I am much too weak.

“Yeah, I am,” I smile.

“So are you going to tell me what really happened?”

“Yeah, sure. It really is no big deal. He came home the other day when I was getting ready for my sorority meeting. I was vacuuming the living room because some of the girls were coming over afterwards, and you guys left chip crumbs all over the floor. Danny laughed at me and said I looked like a 50's sitcom, vacuuming in a dress and high heels. He walked out the door, then swung the door back open and said, Lucy! I'm home! Then he walked over, grabbed me around the waist, dipped me and kissed me. Like Ricky used to do on those old I Love Lucy reruns. He was just being goofy.”

And um, confession time.

It wasn't just a kiss.

He did do the whole Lucy thing, but while I was still leaned back, he asked me if Phillip was home.

I shook my head no.

Then he picked me up, carried me to the couch, laid on top of me and was intensely kissing me. It was totally unexpected and so hot.

I really thought we might cross the line this time, actually, I was sure of it. But about the time things were heading that direction, and just after Danny had whispered, I think it's about time we, you know, and then, your place or mine, as in who's bedroom are we going to do this in, we heard Phillip's car door slam. We both said, Shit, bolted up off the couch, and ran to our own bedrooms before Phillip bounded in the door.

And poof, the mood vanished.

The doctor was listening to my story, and he's been standing there very still. He eyes the number 12 football jersey I'm wearing and cries out, “Are you talking about Danny Diamond?”

“Yeah,” Phillip and I say at the same time.

“But the Oklahoma game is this weekend. He can't be sick!”

Obviously this man bleeds Husker red, like most everyone in the state.