miserably.
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, his large, muscular arms. Those emerald eyes rip through my soul. He points to a sign on the counter. His smirk changes to a grin. I choke. I can’t pull my eyes away from him to read the stupid sign.
That is a dimple on his chin.
Stomach feels queasy. Knees going week.
He continues pointing to the sign. I force my head to turn. I can’t even focus on the stupid words. It’s like they’re teeny tiny and I’m super old and need reading glasses. He reads the sign for me, his voice super Southern and sexy, the way it was the night of the wedding. “Sweetheart Skate Night. Cost, five dollars for adults, three dollars for students. Seniors fifty-five and older free . Recreation passes will not be allowed for this event.”
“Fine.” I look at his name tag. “Jack.” My voice is a bit higher-pitched than I’d like. I move aside only because I can no longer look at the gorgeous muscular god without turning a thousand shades of red and passing out. I need to pull myself together. I usually don’t act this way around boys. I can hold my own. I mean, I used to be able to hold my own. What is it with him?
Vianna hands Mr. Rude I-Might-Die-If-I-Look-At-Him-One-More-Time three dollars. She giggles. I glare at her.
I pull out a five and slap it on the counter. “Punching any cars lately?”
His smirk fades fast. Shit, now I’ve probably made him mad. I’m so stupid.
“Excuse my friend. She obviously can’t see how cute you are.” Vianna grabs my arm and pulls me away from the front desk.
Just in time, my knees start to shake. I’m afraid I might fall. I obviously pissed him off. He did start it, but I don’t want to sabotage anything either.
Vianna stops when we reach a place where he can no longer see us. “We found him. He’s totally cute and totally your type. What are you doing?”
She nailed it. I see it too. I saw it the day of the wedding. The deep brown curls, the smooth stubble on his face. The color of his eyes that hurts to look into, they suck me in. More than Blake’s ever could. But therein lies the problem. He resembles Blake too much. Except for his size. I can tell that he’s probably a stupid football player, which makes it worse.
I’m trying to rid myself of that jock type. Or at least boys with a perfect build but who don’t know the difference between a metaphor and a meteorite. They pick girls who will “help” them with their homework and keep them on the team. I won’t fall into that trap again. My goal is to specifically stay away from football players, for two reasons. I can think of a million reasons but two suffice.
One, my dad likes football. I’m trying to like any other sport but football. For example, I don’t like baseball but it irritates my dad, which I do enjoy. It’s like paying him back for cheating on my mother. I won’t date soccer players, though. They’re too skinny, almost as bad as skater boys. Although I’d actually consider dating them if it irritated my father enough.
Two, football players are too emotional. More so than players in any other sport, in my opinion. They’re either super roid-like and pissed off all the time, or they cry when they don’t get their way.
Okay, not all of them, but there are lots. It’s annoying. Like the time when Nate Jacobson wasn’t chosen for the freshman first-string quarterback. He cried when he walked off the field. Get over it, work harder, and quit being a damn baby. He was too big to be a quarterback anyway. He would have made a great lineman. Instead he quit football and hung out at Sonic every weekend. I don’t think he’s going graduate either. Or like the time I saw that stupid Colby cry when his school lost to ours in the big game last year. Don’t get me wrong, I like boys who can show emotions. I just wish they did it off the field too.
The sad truth is I gravitate toward guys like Jack. I can’t seem to resist them…especially
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, his large, muscular arms. Those emerald eyes rip through my soul. He points to a sign on the counter. His smirk changes to a grin. I choke. I can’t pull my eyes away from him to read the stupid sign.
That is a dimple on his chin.
Stomach feels queasy. Knees going week.
He continues pointing to the sign. I force my head to turn. I can’t even focus on the stupid words. It’s like they’re teeny tiny and I’m super old and need reading glasses. He reads the sign for me, his voice super Southern and sexy, the way it was the night of the wedding. “Sweetheart Skate Night. Cost, five dollars for adults, three dollars for students. Seniors fifty-five and older free . Recreation passes will not be allowed for this event.”
“Fine.” I look at his name tag. “Jack.” My voice is a bit higher-pitched than I’d like. I move aside only because I can no longer look at the gorgeous muscular god without turning a thousand shades of red and passing out. I need to pull myself together. I usually don’t act this way around boys. I can hold my own. I mean, I used to be able to hold my own. What is it with him?
Vianna hands Mr. Rude I-Might-Die-If-I-Look-At-Him-One-More-Time three dollars. She giggles. I glare at her.
I pull out a five and slap it on the counter. “Punching any cars lately?”
His smirk fades fast. Shit, now I’ve probably made him mad. I’m so stupid.
“Excuse my friend. She obviously can’t see how cute you are.” Vianna grabs my arm and pulls me away from the front desk.
Just in time, my knees start to shake. I’m afraid I might fall. I obviously pissed him off. He did start it, but I don’t want to sabotage anything either.
Vianna stops when we reach a place where he can no longer see us. “We found him. He’s totally cute and totally your type. What are you doing?”
She nailed it. I see it too. I saw it the day of the wedding. The deep brown curls, the smooth stubble on his face. The color of his eyes that hurts to look into, they suck me in. More than Blake’s ever could. But therein lies the problem. He resembles Blake too much. Except for his size. I can tell that he’s probably a stupid football player, which makes it worse.
I’m trying to rid myself of that jock type. Or at least boys with a perfect build but who don’t know the difference between a metaphor and a meteorite. They pick girls who will “help” them with their homework and keep them on the team. I won’t fall into that trap again. My goal is to specifically stay away from football players, for two reasons. I can think of a million reasons but two suffice.
One, my dad likes football. I’m trying to like any other sport but football. For example, I don’t like baseball but it irritates my dad, which I do enjoy. It’s like paying him back for cheating on my mother. I won’t date soccer players, though. They’re too skinny, almost as bad as skater boys. Although I’d actually consider dating them if it irritated my father enough.
Two, football players are too emotional. More so than players in any other sport, in my opinion. They’re either super roid-like and pissed off all the time, or they cry when they don’t get their way.
Okay, not all of them, but there are lots. It’s annoying. Like the time when Nate Jacobson wasn’t chosen for the freshman first-string quarterback. He cried when he walked off the field. Get over it, work harder, and quit being a damn baby. He was too big to be a quarterback anyway. He would have made a great lineman. Instead he quit football and hung out at Sonic every weekend. I don’t think he’s going graduate either. Or like the time I saw that stupid Colby cry when his school lost to ours in the big game last year. Don’t get me wrong, I like boys who can show emotions. I just wish they did it off the field too.
The sad truth is I gravitate toward guys like Jack. I can’t seem to resist them…especially
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