The QB Bad Boy and Me

(2) "I am so offended,"

"They're talking about football. Like extensively. While they stand around the barbecue like a couple of pals from way back."

I've resorted to hiding in my bedroom while I FaceTime and rant to Spencer. She hangs on every word with wide eyes and an eager expression. 

"I don't care what they're talking about!" she scoffs. "Drayton Lahey is in your house! Having a barbecue!"

"I know," I groan. "It's like a fucking horror movie out there."

"I would have described it more as a romantic teen novel," she dreamily sighs, her pixelated face staring into the distance.

"Gross, get your head out of the clouds."

"What do you have against him? Apart from him hitting your car with that gorgeous motorcycle that he drives?"

"He walks around like the sun shines out of his ass! Not to mention the womanising!"

"I think those girls know what they're signing up for when they hook up with him. You always said you didn't have a problem with playboys as long as they were honest about who they are," she squints her eyes with a small smile on her lips. "He's pretty honest about who he is from what I know."

I groan and let my head fall back into the wall behind me with a loud thud. I'm losing the argument because she knows me too damn well for my own good.

"You think he's hot don't you?" She puts the phone so close to her face that I get a clear shot of her nostrils.

"Huh," I shrug, "that's why you're making absolutely no sense."

"What?"

"Yeah I can see your brain and it's fucking minuscule."

"Ugh," she rolls her eyes and readjusts the view. "Admit it girl. He's fine."

"I'm aware. That doesn't change the fact that he's a pr-"

"Dallas?" A knock on my door is soon followed by Drayton peeking through the gap, searching the room until he finds me in the corner under my window. "Food's ready."

He leans against the frame with his hands in his pockets.

"Is that hi-"

"Uhshutupgoodbyeseeyoutomorrow!"

I quickly end the call and stand up, refusing to meet his eyes until the red flush has drained out of my cheeks. As if he needs his ego inflated any further.

"Talking about me?" He asks with a smug smile.

"Uh actually yeah..." I slowly nod as I walk towards him. "Apparently there's some rumour going around about you and Mara Linden."

I'd dropped her name because unfortunately for me, being on the cheer team meant being ear to a bunch of meaningless gossip twenty four seven, whether I want to hear it or not. I know for a fact he'd slept with her at a Fourth of July pool party at the beginning of summer. His smug smile becomes infuriatingly cocky as he wiggles his brows.

"Yeah, she's telling everyone that your penis is tiny and your stroke game is weak." The look that seizes his features is so good that I'm tempted to take a picture. His arrogant expression has dropped and in its place, a look of pure horror as he visibly swallows. "The cheer team have been talking about it all day."

That's a half truth. They have been talking about it all day, but more in praise because apparently he's as incredible as he looks. Of course he is.

"Sorry about that," I give him a sympathetic smile and tap his arm as I walk past, ignoring the impulsive desire to keep my hand on his bicep a little longer than appropriate. "Ooh smells good. I'm starving."