got major balls for a girl. She doesn’t give up or cry every time she gets bruised, cut up, or roughed up on the field. She brings her A game every fucking time. She motivates us, that’s for sure.” He looks at Derek and says, “This girl here tried out freshman year. There were bets made that she’d quit within a week. I should know because I was one of those people who lost money on that bet. I’m not sayin’ some of the guys didn’t try to make her quit, yours truly being one of them, but she never gave up. She earned our respect.” He eyes my chest. “And she’s got the best set of tits on the team.”
Chapter 11
Derek
At the mention of Ashtyn’s chest, I look away and pretend I’m interested in the rest of the purple Skittles. I don’t want to notice Ashtyn’s chest, or any of her other body parts, for that matter. I’m already too aware of the girl as it is. Paying attention to her female parts is not an option, for more reasons than the obvious.
I close my laptop when the big Latino guy calls out, “Derek, wait. How about helping us out?”
Ashtyn says, “We don’t need any help, Vic. Besides, you heard what my sister said. Derek is forbidden to help us.”
Yeah, but that just makes me want to break the rules even more. “What kind of help?”
“Retaliation for messing up Ashtyn’s yard.”
Jet, the self-declared best-looking dude with a big mouth, says, “We gotta come up with a plan so they know not to screw with us. We could use any ideas you’ve got.”
Ashtyn steps between me and the guys. “He doesn’t have any ideas. Right, Derek?”
“Right.” I burst her short-lived moment of triumph. “But I’ll work on it.”
“No, you won’t,” she orders as her teammates say, “Great” and “Let us know if you come up with anything.”
Ashtyn shoots me a glare, then pats each of her friends on the shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later. It’s team business. You guys go do drills. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After they file out, Ashtyn leans on the table, her face close to mine. I wish to hell Jet hadn’t mentioned her breasts, because the way she’s leanin’ I have a good view of her lacy pink bra.
“You seem to think I need a savior.” I have a hard time concentrating on her words and not her bra. “I don’t. And while I appreciate you helping me clean the mess in my yard, I was more than capable of doing it myself.”
I pick up my laptop. “I’m no savior.”
“Then what’s your agenda, Cowboy?” she continues. “Besides annoying me.”
“Don’t got one,” I say. “Annoying you has taken up so much of my time since I got here, I reckon I don’t have much time for any-thin’ else.”
I walk out, hoping I’ll forget about that lacy pink bra and the girl who’s wearing it. Lying on my blow-up bed, I open my laptop again. I intend to watch random videos, but instead I search online for the pictures of Ashtyn’s front lawn. It doesn’t take long to find them. They’re on some bogus profile created this morning,someone claiming to be a Fremont student named Booger McGee. Pictures of the tampons and pads strewn on the lawn were uploaded today. Ashtyn is tagged in the picture marked FREMONT’S BITCH.
One picture is taken from the street to showcase the entire mess. A few others are closer up, showing their artful distribution of the pads and tampons. The pranksters were careful not to out themselves, probably afraid of the consequences of being recognized. Smart, but not that smart. I squint closely at a picture including Ashtyn’s car. There’s a reflection of the front end of another car in her side window. I easily identify the distinctive shape of a Jeep Wrangler with a custom light bar on top. Wranglers can never be mistaken for any other car.
I tell myself I don’t want to be Ashtyn’s protector. The girl is more than capable of fighting her own battles, and for the ones she’s not capable of fighting . . . well, she’s
Chapter 11
Derek
At the mention of Ashtyn’s chest, I look away and pretend I’m interested in the rest of the purple Skittles. I don’t want to notice Ashtyn’s chest, or any of her other body parts, for that matter. I’m already too aware of the girl as it is. Paying attention to her female parts is not an option, for more reasons than the obvious.
I close my laptop when the big Latino guy calls out, “Derek, wait. How about helping us out?”
Ashtyn says, “We don’t need any help, Vic. Besides, you heard what my sister said. Derek is forbidden to help us.”
Yeah, but that just makes me want to break the rules even more. “What kind of help?”
“Retaliation for messing up Ashtyn’s yard.”
Jet, the self-declared best-looking dude with a big mouth, says, “We gotta come up with a plan so they know not to screw with us. We could use any ideas you’ve got.”
Ashtyn steps between me and the guys. “He doesn’t have any ideas. Right, Derek?”
“Right.” I burst her short-lived moment of triumph. “But I’ll work on it.”
“No, you won’t,” she orders as her teammates say, “Great” and “Let us know if you come up with anything.”
Ashtyn shoots me a glare, then pats each of her friends on the shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later. It’s team business. You guys go do drills. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After they file out, Ashtyn leans on the table, her face close to mine. I wish to hell Jet hadn’t mentioned her breasts, because the way she’s leanin’ I have a good view of her lacy pink bra.
“You seem to think I need a savior.” I have a hard time concentrating on her words and not her bra. “I don’t. And while I appreciate you helping me clean the mess in my yard, I was more than capable of doing it myself.”
I pick up my laptop. “I’m no savior.”
“Then what’s your agenda, Cowboy?” she continues. “Besides annoying me.”
“Don’t got one,” I say. “Annoying you has taken up so much of my time since I got here, I reckon I don’t have much time for any-thin’ else.”
I walk out, hoping I’ll forget about that lacy pink bra and the girl who’s wearing it. Lying on my blow-up bed, I open my laptop again. I intend to watch random videos, but instead I search online for the pictures of Ashtyn’s front lawn. It doesn’t take long to find them. They’re on some bogus profile created this morning,someone claiming to be a Fremont student named Booger McGee. Pictures of the tampons and pads strewn on the lawn were uploaded today. Ashtyn is tagged in the picture marked FREMONT’S BITCH.
One picture is taken from the street to showcase the entire mess. A few others are closer up, showing their artful distribution of the pads and tampons. The pranksters were careful not to out themselves, probably afraid of the consequences of being recognized. Smart, but not that smart. I squint closely at a picture including Ashtyn’s car. There’s a reflection of the front end of another car in her side window. I easily identify the distinctive shape of a Jeep Wrangler with a custom light bar on top. Wranglers can never be mistaken for any other car.
I tell myself I don’t want to be Ashtyn’s protector. The girl is more than capable of fighting her own battles, and for the ones she’s not capable of fighting . . . well, she’s
Similar Books
