SWNOVELS First Meet Foul: Chapter 11
Having the large-ass house to myself should’ve been a blessing. No boys to bother me or to worry about running into—well, one grumpy one to be specific. Instead of enjoying the silence, each sound freaked me out. It was an old creaky house that moved with the wind. Pipes creaked, and the windows rattled with any light breeze. Plus, it was after midnight, and people were rowdy outside. Not a typical disorderly crowd either. The guys had played incredibly at the game, and people thought the party was at the house—which it was not. It was me, alone in my room, a little worried. I chewed at the hangnail on my thumb, wincing when I tasted blood.
The constant knocks on the door and crowd gathering outside freaked me out. I double-checked the lock before sprinting upstairs to hide in my room, but like… if someone got in, I didn’t have anything to fight with. Stop being silly. I won’t need to fight.
Mack offered for me to sleep on her couch, but with the game on Sunday, I couldn’t risk having any pain from an uncomfortable sleep. I needed to stay in top shape, and that meant my bed here. We split an Uber to our places around midnight because we needed sleep, but now it was one a.m., and I regretted being alone.
Thud. I sat up straighter, my pulse pounding through my body.
Okay, that was… an owl hitting a window? A car door?
Thud, thud, thud.
That sounded like footsteps. But were they outside or on the stairs? Shit. My breath caught in my throat as the thuds grew louder.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
Okay, someone was in the hallway. Callum? Luca? I hid under my covers like a coward and held my breath, desperate for a sign it was one of the guys. I never heard keys in the front door or the timbre of one of their voices, so had someone broken in?
Fuck.
Think, Lorelei, think!
I had hairspray, which burned like hell if it got in your eye. With the grace of a cat, I slid out of bed, not making a sound, and reached onto the dresser for the hairspray. My water bottle was heavy too. I could hit the person in the head hard then run. Surprise attack!
Speed was my friend, and yes, a sudden burst through the door would throw them off and then I could escape. God, I was too young to die. I had things to do, and this person clearly had nefarious ideas. Why else would they break into a football house at this hour? My legs shook, my fingers trembling with fear. My heart beat so hard it sounded like gongs in my ear. I squeezed my toes into my socks.
Unless it’s a girl…
Did I act or wait or sprint or—
Shadows appeared under my door. The person stood outside it, and my body shuddered with fear. My ears rang, and I panted, trying my best not to make a sound, when—“Shit.”
Luca! I knew that voice.
I dove for the handle, opened the door with my hairspray locked and loaded, and met the very intoxicated and buzzed Luca Monroe. He stumbled and fell backward, landing against the other wall as he laughed. “Oh, Lorelei.”
“It’s you.” I sighed in relief, closing my eyes and willing my heart to settle. My ribcage ached.
“Of course? Who else would be here?” He glanced down the hallway, pulling his knees to his chest and spreading his legs wide. He leaned his elbows onto his knees before his gaze darkened. “Were you expecting some guy?”
“No.” I swallowed, the adrenaline coursing through my body.
“Then why do you look… why do you have a bottle in your hand?”
“Oh.” My face flushed. “It’s nothing.”
“I love your blush.” He smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re adorable, Lo. Your cheeks get all pink, and it makes your freckles stand out.”
“Okay, you’re trashed.” I cackled, uncomfortable with how nice he was being. He called me adorable and called me Lo. His absolute insistence of not sleeping with me that morning had embarrassed me earlier, so this had to be because of his buzz. Even if I didn’t care that much, a total dismissal like that offended the ego and pride a wee bit. I rubbed my lips together, my pulse finally evening out. “Drink some water and go to bed.”
“Is that hair spray? Were you doing your hair?” He frowned, hard, like the thought of me doing my hair hurt him.
“No. It was my weapon. Only weapon at that.” I shrugged. “Not my best moment.”
“A weapon?” The lines around his eyes deepened, the signature scowl returning and causing all his features to tighten. He was gorgeous with a frown or a smile. It was so unfair.
“I was freaked out, alright? I was in the house alone, and people were outside and pounding on the door looking for a party.” I ran a hand over my hair, the slight tremble giving my nerves away. “I thought, well, it doesn’t matter. It’s you.”
“You assumed someone had broken in.” He paled, and his eyes widened. “Oh my god. You thought I broke in.”
“I guess, yeah.”
“Lorelei, I’m so sorry.” He gripped his hair and groaned, rocking side to side. “I hate that you were scared. I didn’t even think about you at the house! Well, not true. I thought about you most of the night and about the things I need to say to you, but this is the first time someone was at the house when we were out after a game.” He pushed up to his feet, groaning. Then he swallowed hard. “You’re okay. I’m here. I won’t let it happen again.”
He seemed so flustered and genuine that I couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “You gonna drag me to the next party then?”
“I’ll stay back if you’re here.” He stared at me with wide eyes, like he was trying to send a secret message. It was not received, and my skin prickled from his attention.
“You don’t have to do that.” I waved a hand in the hair. “It’s fine.”
“Nope. Not fine. Opposite of fine. Poor? Ineffective? Not well?” He closed his eyes and scratched his forehead. “Not good.”
“Okay, grumpy-pants, you’re funny when you’re drunk.”
“Yes well, it’s my one night off. I can go wild and be free, and I accidentally did a few shots of stuff. I never do shots, but you were on my mind, so I stressed out and needed the release. Your fault, really.”
The back of my neck heated. “You getting drunk is my fault?” My voice raised an octave, and the same, sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through me, a flicker of curiosity, a dangerous feeling of tell-me-more mixed in. Why was I on his mind?
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Wait.” I shook my head, clearing what I thought I heard him say. Thinking about me? No way. That made no sense. Why would he think about me? “Come again?”
“Look, Lo,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. He dragged his attention from my feet to my face before continuing. “I can’t afford to stray from my plan, and you are the most tempting. Like, so fucking tempting. And to even think about it would be… terrible for me and unfair to Dean too.”
“You’re not making sense.” I stepped closer, his magnetic tone pulling me toward him. What’s unfair to Dean? I had no idea what he was saying, but I wanted to hear him speak all kind to me again. I liked it a lot. “I’m tempting? We’re back to you not wanting me to live in the house because I could ruin your routine?”
“This morning.” He ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes and letting out a loud groan. “I saw your face.”
“You’re talking in circles right now, and I want to understand, but I’m tired.” The reference to the morning caught me off-guard. First, he said he thought about me a lot, then that I was a distraction but also acted like he’d rather sleep with a rat than be caught dead with me.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He took a big step toward me, cupping my face with his large hands. His rough skin caressed my cheeks, his fingers gently grazing underneath my eyes. He tilted his face down so our mouths were a foot apart, and I froze.
My body erupted in goose bumps and heat, my stomach swooping from his touch. He smelled like alcohol and pine trees, along with sweat and leather, and I forgot everything.
How to speak, breath, move, what my favorite sport was or why we stood in the hallway with his hands on my face.
“Un,” I mumbled, not really saying a word. “Um what—”
“I’d be lucky to sleep with you. The luckiest. You’re… I can’t even…” He closed his eyes, struggling to get words out.
My pea-brain was repeating the words I’d be lucky to sleep with you over and over and over like what did that even mean? Should I be mad or happy about this? Confused, sure, but what? “Luca.”
“You’re gorgeous. I think, possibly, when I said what I did this morning in front of Callum, you thought that I didn’t think you were the most beautiful thing on this green earth. You are, by the way. Like, perfection. Stunning. Like, if I didn’t have to worry about my grandma or football or Dean, I’d be doing whatever I could to score a date with you. You’re a goddess, Lorelei, and it bothered me all damn day to know you probably thought the opposite.” His breath hit my face, and he lowered his hands, stepping back and nodding to himself. “I needed to tell you that. I can’t get my words right with you.”
“Whoa.” I blinked, a lot.
“So, we’re good now?” He tilted his head to the side, like a cute little dog.
“Good?” I laughed, utter chaos raging inside me like a pig loose during a state fair. “You say that to me and ask if we’re good? Luca Monroe, that was quite a speech.”
“I don’t know if you’re laughing because we are totally good or laughing out of anger. I know people do that sometimes.”
“I’m confused, that’s it. I thought… you look and speak to me like I’m incredibly annoying. Then you say I’m a goddess? How drunk are you?”
“Medium drunk, and you are a goddess.” His mouth opened, and he sucked in a breath as he reached up and took a piece of my hair between his two fingers. “It’s the hair, maybe. Or your eyes. Or lips. All of it.”
“You think I’m hot.”
“Yes, but Jesus Christ, I need to work on my compliments if you’re still unsure of what I’m saying.” He let go of my hair and stared down at me, his tongue wetting the center of his bottom lip. “I’ve thought you were the prettiest thing since I met you freshman year.”
“Freshman year?” What… was I drunk? Was this a dream? The time he went ugh at me?
“Am I making this worse?”
“Luca.” I held up a hand, my mind sprinting a marathon to comb though all his words. This was front page news. Huge. Massive. “I thought you disliked me. This is the opposite.”
“Nothing will ever happen between us. I think… yes, that’s why I kept my thoughts to myself. Until now. Damn shots of Patrón. I’m defriending Callum. Only choice here.” He mumbled something else about our third hallmate before his eyes heated. “I will never act on this attraction. I can’t. Football is my life. Dean… he’d kill me. Do you understand? No matter what happens, we will be nothing more than friends.”
I nodded, not really having a choice. The intensity on his face and the way the air seemed to thicken around us had my heart crashing against my ribcage. Did I want to do something about this attraction? I didn’t think so. Hell, he played football, and I was done with athletes and their bullshit. But that was before he made the best declaration of lust I had ever heard. The most Eric ever said was mm you’re hot. Goddess? Shit. Almost had me forgetting my “no athlete” rule.
Say that! Reassure him. He seemed worried as hell with all the glaring and unblinking eyes. “I agree,” I said, my cheeks blazing with heat. “I’ll never be with an athlete again anyway. I want to come first and with you I never would.”
His nostrils flared. “Right. Good. We agree.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
We stared, neither one of us moving as the awkwardness weighed me down. In the silence, I couldn’t help but admire his strong nose and full lips. He’d shaved, and his clean jaw was sharp, flexed, and what the hell am I doing?
“Good night, Monroe.”
“Yeah.” He blinked, then turned so fast he almost ran into the wall before disappearing into his bedroom.
I stood there, frozen, lost in my own head at what had just happened. The confession, the newfound fact he thought I was gorgeous… no. I shook my head. I would never date a football dude, let alone someone on Dean’s team. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, and just because Luca lit something up inside me, it didn’t mean shit.
If anything, it solidified I had to protect myself even more. I would just end up getting hurt. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… well, that’d be on me, and I didn’t have time to be heartbroken again. I had an internship to score.