It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but I usually didn’t answer him. Today, the coffee made me soft. “Maybe if you didn’t call them ‘the ugly sweats’ I’d be more willing to tell you.”

“She speaks.” He flashed me that smile again. “Two weeks is one hell of a snit for losing our bet. I didn’t take you for a coward.”

As usual, his words elicited a rush of heat that made me blush. For no freaking reason. This. This was why I’d been avoiding him despite agreeing to let him teach me about football. My damn body had a mind of its own, and it wanted to climb Derrick “D” Asher—legendary quarterback of the Teagan University Wildcats—like a stripper pole.

I set the coffee carefully on the table and turned to face him. “I’m not afraid of you. I’ve been busy.” Mostly. He didn’t have to know I’d been busy watching videos of him playing football. Out of curiosity. Yeah. Curiosity.

He quirked his eyebrow. “Good to know. Does that mean you’re planning to hold up your end of our agreement?”

I tapped my pen against my notebook. The last two weeks had given me a lot of time to think and cyber stalk Derrick. According to what I’d seen on his social media, I’d been unfair in my assessment of him. He seemed like a nice guy. Not to mention, I enjoyed verbally sparring with him.

A slow burn of excitement started to unfurl inside me at the thought of another rematch. “Sure. What’s your plan for teaching me the truths of football?”

Derrick leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “We have a game this weekend.”

I laughed, imagining myself decked out in scarlet and black body paint. “I don’t think I’m there yet. Can we start with something easier?”

He rubbed his chin and nodded. “Spend the day with me.”

“I have another class after this, and I’m meeting with Professor Laken after that. I’m not free until lunchtime.”

“Okay, then spend half a day with me. I’ll pick you up here, we can go to lunch, and you can see what my day is like outside classes. It’s only a few hours, Nadia. You can handle that much.”

The way he said my name, like a caress, sent wet heat spiraling through me. I blew out a breath and willed myself to maintain eye contact.

“How many is a few?”

“Practice ends at six, but you don’t have to stay for the whole thing. Unless you want to.”

I shook my head. If I was doing this, I’d follow through. “I’ll stay. You get me from twelve to six. Don’t be late.”

* * *

He was early.