Root (Band Nerd Book 2) Read online

  My phone buzzes, dragging me out of thoughts I’d rather not have. Ever.

  Sitting up in bed, I pull up the text and find my first smile of the evening.

  10:34 p.m.

  Anders: Hey, are you still up?

  The heaviness in my heart lifts at his question.

  10:35 p.m.

  Lena: I’m up. But I figured you’d be celebrating the win over the Muskrats? Great game, by the way!

  I may have stared at him throughout the entire game. Seeing Anders in his uniform, with De Groot written in black across his red jersey, had been…like a fantasy come to life. He was one of the tallest guys on the offense, making it easy to find him. Did I ogle his butt in those pants? Yes. Yes, I did. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m going to dream about those pants. And I can’t forget the way he looked without his helmet, sweat-dampened hair clinging to his face, the black grease under his eyes giving him the look of a warrior in the midst of battle, blue eyes studying the field as though he could will the defense to play harder, faster, so he could get back out there.

  It was the first time I’ve ever been to a college game in person and the vibe was insane. It seemed as though each player had a nickname and the crowd had a chant for each one. When two defenders tried to double-team him, he held them back like it was nothing, making the student body roar, “Roooooooot!” It was crazy and brought home just how out of my league he is.

  I sigh just as my phone vibrates in my hand.

  10:40 p.m.

  Anders: Thanks. If you want company, open the door. If you don’t… Well, I guess I’ll just look like a creeper hanging around on your landing.

  I read the text three times before his words made sense. Swiveling my head to stare at my door as though I’ve suddenly developed X-ray vision, I gape while trying to think of how quickly I could put a bra and shorts on. When I’m home, those are the first two things I take off and since I wasn’t expecting company…

  “You’re really going to make me look like a creeper, aren’t you?” he calls through the door, an edge of humor easing the slight panic in his voice.

  “Coming,” I shout and move as quickly as my tender ankle will allow.

  Hopping on one leg, I manage to shimmy back into the shorts I’d worn under my uniform and wiggle into my discarded bra, which I’d thrown over the back of a dining chair. I only take one crutch with me as I make my way to the door, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m not leaving anything out that’d embarrass me. Like a pair of panties or another bra. Everything looks clear, so I stop at the door and take a deep breath.

  Trying to pretend my heart isn’t pounding, I paste on a smile and turn the knob. God, it just wasn’t fair for him to have this effect on me. Anders stands on the landing, hands shoved in his pockets, a small smile on his face, and his blue eyes shining as though he’s been waiting for me all his life.

  “H-Hey,” I stammer, a blush already climbing my cheeks.

  He lets out a grunt. Oh right, I’m looking at him.

  “Come in,” I say as I turn and hobble back across the apartment. I hope one day he’ll be able to talk to me face-to-face. Just so I can watch his expressions. And because he’s so unbearably cute. “I figured you’d have been out partying.”

  The door closes before he replies, voice gruff. “Not really. How’s your ankle?”

  I roll my eyes, but not where he can see it. While I could do with him not asking me about it every time he sees me, I like that he cares. “It’s much better. I’m going to ditch the crutches tomorrow. But,” I say as I turn to perch on a chair. “I’m going to keep it wrapped a few more days to be safe.”

  His eyebrows are a straight line over his eyes as he studies me, his frown fierce. We stare at each other a few seconds before he turns to look around my apartment. “Where’s Jolene?”

  Knowing I’ll look like a loser but unable to see a good reason to lie, I shrug. “She’s out and then going back to her dorm tonight. I think she’s meeting Nessie and Becca at a party or something.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a bit, but he suddenly seems restless, as though he’s nervous now that we’re completely alone. I let that sink in a moment and now I’m nervous. With the exception of the hour we had to ourselves the day of my accident, we’ve always had someone to act as a buffer, whether it was everyone in class, or Jolene back at my apartment. We’ve never been completely alone. And yet, despite not knowing him all that well, I’m not scared-nervous. It’s more like giddy-nervous.

  “Um, do you want to watch something?” I ask. What else could we do? It isn’t like I have a whole bunch of activities to keep anyone other than myself occupied.

  Facing away from me, Anders runs a hand through his hair. Yes, I stare at his broad, muscled back and butt. I can’t help myself. It’s as though Anders De Groot woke up my inner hormonal teenager. Oh. Wait. I’m still a hormonal teenager; I just never really met anyone who made me want…just want so much. My body positively aches with it.

  “Yeah, let’s…let’s watch something,” he finally says, sounding a little choked.

  Okay then. I rub my damp palms on the legs of my shorts and try to figure out what we can watch together that wouldn’t be too weird. God, I’m screwed.

  Anders

  Two weeks later…

  “Did you bring snacks?” Lena asks as she makes herself comfortable on our usual movie watching spot, her legs folded tailor style, tempting me.

  “Of course,” I scoff, dragging my gaze away from her thighs. I hand her the bag of junk food I picked up on the way to her place. “How did your Math test go?”

  Her nose wrinkles, making me chuckle. “Dr. Givens hates me,” she mutters. She starts digging through the bag, pulling out bags and boxes of candy. “I swear he was staring at me the entire hour, like he expected me to pull out a cheat sheet or something.”

  I drop to the floor next to her, flattening the mound of pillows she’d laid out. From the night of the first game of the season I’ve spent as much time with her as our practice schedules, her work, and our studying would allow. I still lose my breath when she looks at me, or vice versa, but familiarity has helped me at least speak to her instead of stare at her. Our friendship has grown and, for the first time in a long while, I feel as though there’s more to life than just studying and football.

  I still think about my future a lot, but instead of the regimented, black and white world I thought I wanted, I see Lena there with me. Stupid, right? I mean, we haven’t even kissed, and I’m already seeing long-term commitment. The most we’ve done is sit side-by-side, her body leaning into mine a little as we watch movies. That’s it. Yet those moments are better than any make-out session I’ve ever had with another girl.

  As soon as I’m settled, she leans into me and shares the stash of candy. The scent of Lena envelops me, making my dick harden with anticipation. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be getting any action. I haven’t been able to work up the courage to ask her out. I’m slowly, but surely, keeping myself in the friend zone.

  “So what are we watching tonight?” I ask. It’s better than burying my nose in her hair and inhaling like some kind of weird stalker.

  “I thought we could start watching Vikings since you’ve never seen it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Shit.”

  Her laugh is music to my ears, the one-armed hug she gives me, sheer bliss. “It’s not that bad. You’ll probably love it. Lots of violence and sex.”

  The room goes completely silent after she finishes her sentence, the word “sex” seeming to echo around the room. My dick stands up with a, “yes please!”, making the crotch of my shorts uncomfortable.

  Lena clears her throat, although it sounds more like she’s strangling on air. “Well, that’s awkward,” she whispers.

  I peek to see her face is as red as a tomato, her gaze darting around the room, looking for something to distract both of us from the elephant that just stormed into the apartment. It’s that discomfort that makes me
wonder if she wants me as much as I want her. Sure, I’ve seen her giving me strange looks over the last two weeks, side-eyes and stares, but I put it all down to her shyness. Now though, I wonder if those were a result of the same attraction toward me that I feel for her.

  I need to stop being chicken shit. I’m going to kiss her. My palms instantly begin sweating, my heart pounds, and I’m half-afraid I might pass out because I can’t seem to catch my breath. Lena knows something’s up. I see it when she looks up at me, catching my gaze with hers, and I drown in the deep pools of her eyes.

  Twisting to face her head-on, I give in. It isn’t a conscious thought or action. It’s desperation and instinct that have me reaching out to cup her jaw in my hand and tilting her face up to meet mine. Her lips… I knew they’d be velvety soft and taste like sweetness, but there’s knowing and then there’s knowing. Well, now I know and I’m an instant addict. Sugar. Peaches. Lena. I groan, needing more.

  Her breath catches as I kiss her, her body still as though she isn’t sure, but when I slant my head to the side to cover more of her mouth, she melts into me, and I swallow her soft sigh. I want to devour her, just absorb everything about her. I don’t though. This isn’t the kind of girl who makes out with guys all the time. This is the kind of girl who treasures her kisses, her sweet sighs, gifting them to one lucky bastard. And that’s me.

  I don’t know how long we kiss, our lips brushing against each other over and over again, but when I finally pull away with a lingering lick of her bottom lip, my dick’s so hard I’m worried even thinking about it will make me come. So I concentrate on the girl before me, her flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips, and the lazy way her eyes blink at me.

  I swallow a couple of times. Her skin is so fucking soft under my palm. “Lena?”

  Then she does it. She licks her lips, her pupils dilating as though she likes the taste of me on them. “Yeah?”

  “Lena,” I say again, heart no longer pounding. No, that organ is thundering. “God, I want to kiss you again.”

  A smile spreads across her radiant face. “Okay.”

  So I do, but I don’t go after her lips this time. No, it’s the beauty mark right next to her mouth I kiss, tapping it with my tongue because it’s been driving me crazy for weeks. Once I’ve sufficiently worshipped it, memorizing the softness of her skin, then I go for her mouth, this time lapping at the seam of her lips until she opens for me, her hands gripping my biceps. I try to go slow, to ease into a deeper taste of her, but the instant I feel her tongue with mine, I become this… Well, I guess you could say, I finally tap into my Viking roots. Once her flavor hits my taste buds, it’s all about conquering.

  I’m so painfully hard yet so blissed out at the same time, finally kissing Lena Leblanc, I somehow tackle her to the bed of pillows she’d made for us to watch television. Our legs tangle together, my body pinning hers to the floor, but instead of it stopping me, the new position only makes me hungrier for more. And the moan she makes in the back of her throat, the way her hands cling to me, continues to feed the wildness inside me. The one that wants inside Lena like there’s no tomorrow.

  And I’m not just kissing her. She’s kissing me back, her tongue chasing mine, making every hair on my body stand on end from the electricity zipping through me. If I thought I was turned on before… Yeah, that was nothing compared to this, with her fingers raking through my hair, her right leg wrapping around my hip, her tongue licking into my mouth.

  She isn’t the only one eager to touch and explore. The instant I fill my palm with one of her tits, my dick starts leaking. When the nipple damn near stabs my hand through the material of her bra and T-shirt, the tingling at the base of my spine intensifies. Then she arches her back, giving herself to me.

  Holy shit, holy shit.

  A sudden bang on the door of her apartment has us springing apart as though God Himself just appeared to chastise us for rounding first base. Panting, harder than I’ve ever been in my life, I stare into her glazed eyes.

  “Wow,” she whispers.

  I’m miserable. I’m pretty sure my balls are the color of blueberries and my heart seems to think we’re trying to run a marathon, but I can’t help but smile at her. “Wow, indeed.”

  “Lena!” a male voice shouts on the other side of the door.

  The dazed pleasure on her face doesn’t fade, it goes out as though someone just snuffed a candle. Her brow furrows, her eyes go cloudy, but not with excitement and desire. No, my girl’s expression is all resigned acceptance and unhappiness. The same mask she wore before we started getting closer.

  “Lena!”

  I lever myself off of her, allowing her to sit up. “Who is that?” I demand, turning to glare at the door, which rattles with another knock.

  Lena scoots out from beneath me, tucking her legs close to her chest before pushing to her feet. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve enjoyed the sight of her muscles flexing with the movement, but with some asshole banging on the door, I’m distracted and close to becoming pissed.

  Especially when I hear the hopelessness in her voice. “It’s my stepdad,” she mumbles as she straightens her clothes.

  She won’t meet my gaze as she starts for the door, her shoulders slumped just enough to show she’s miserable. I stand as well, not wanting to meet this guy while on my knees. The only good thing about my curiosity over a guy who’d make her go from happy to sad so quickly is that it effectively doused my arousal. My dick deflates as I watch her take a deep breath before opening the door, but every ounce of testosterone in my body is prepared to handle this if he’s abusive toward my girl.

  And the minute the I see the motherfucker on the landing, I know he’s abusive. Lena’s taller than he is, but the minute she sees him she seems to shrink into herself. My hands curl, that need to protect flaring to life.

  Lena

  I should be used to Nathan ruining everything good in my life.

  My childhood? Check.

  The mom who used to give a shit about me? Check.

  The only make-out session I’ve ever had with a guy I’m more than a little infatuated with? Double check.

  Any happy feelings Anders stirred in me with his kisses and the passion with which he delivered them is gone. Poof. Nathan’s muddy brown eyes flick from me to Anders and back again, something smug and ugly twisting at his swarthy face.

  “Lena, I didn’t know you had a guest,” he says and steps into the apartment without my permission. Why? Because he owns it. See? I don’t even need to hold a conversation with him to know how it would go. “Anders De Groot, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I’m not surprised he knows who Anders is. Nathan’s made it his job to know every athlete at Sauvage State. When you bet on the outcomes of games, you should know who the players are. What I am surprised by is Anders’ reaction to him. The big, sweet guy I’ve come to know since school started looks more like a dangerous Viking than ever. The lips that just taught mine to kiss are now nothing more than a hard line set in an equally hard, foreboding expression.

  Sticking close to the door, because not only does Anders look scary, but he’s putting off some serious bad-ass vibes, I watch as Nathan saunters up to him, looking like a bantam rooster trying to scare a bull.

  “I’m Nathan Pellegrin, Lena’s stepdad. You played good tonight, boy,” my stepfather says, hands planted on his hips as though anyone cares about his opinion. “Just not sure what you’re doing here with Lena when you could be out there, scoring some really hot chicks.”

  He laughs, the insult to me not even registering, since I’ve heard variations of it for the last eight years. Anders, though, seems to swell with fury, his face tightening to the point I thought he was about to hulk out or something.

  Nathan doesn’t even seem to realize he’s just royally pissed off a six-foot-eight offensive lineman, because he starts talking stats and the rest of the season like everything’s normal. I wrap my arms around my waist, not listening to him as I
try to pretend this isn’t happening. I know if I want things to progress with Anders, I would eventually have had to explain my family situation, but this wasn’t the way I thought it would happen. With the worst part of my life standing right in front of Anders, belittling me and flattering him.

  Turning away from the sight of them standing so close together, I decide to get Nathan his check since he’s here. I glance over my shoulder periodically to make sure he isn’t paying attention to me. He normally doesn’t pick up his money until Monday mornings, but I guess he’s in dire need this time around. Glad I already wrote it out and set it under a magnet on the fridge—I don’t want to reveal where I hide my purse—I shuffle across the kitchen, aware of Anders tracking my every step.

  “I used to play ball myself,” Nathan’s saying as I retrace my footsteps, hesitant to interrupt him, but wanting him to get the hell out. “In ʼ89, I was an All-Star Wide Receiver. Coulda made it to college, but I blew out my knee.”

  I clear my throat. “Nathan, here’s your rent,” I say softly, timidly. I hate this about myself, that I’ve let him browbeat me into being so weak around him. “I have to wait until next week for the rest—”

  He’d ignored me until I begin explaining why the check’s a hundred dollars short. The second those words cross my lips, he snatches the slip of paper out of my hand to look at it, his smarmy smile fading. “What the fuck is this, Lena? Rent’s up to eight hundred now. This is seven!”

  My face explodes with heat, mortification hitting me hard. “I had to miss a few days at work, remember? My ankle? But I’m working a double tomorrow, so I should have enough tips to—”

  “This is bullshit,” he spits at me, crumpling the check in his fist. “I could be renting this dump for twice as much as I’m letting you have it and you can’t even fucking pay me? I should evict your a—”

  “I wouldn’t finish that sentence, if I were you.”

  The words are spoken so softly, it takes both of us a moment to remember someone else has been a witness to our monthly drama. I want to dig a hole right there in the cheap linoleum floor, except then I’d end up in the garage where Nathan holds his bi-monthly poker games. Not where I want to be at all.