“You’d know, being pitiful is kind of your thing,” I snap at him before setting off across the field at a dead sprint.

For the next few hours, I work myself to physical exhaustion. Route running, ladder drills, releases, blocking, hot potato. I don’t stop moving for three hours except to take a quick drink of water. By the end of practice, my legs are jello and I can barely stand up.

Through it all, my mind doesn’t stop racing with thoughts of Elizabeth. I don’t picture her naked body. I picture those chocolate eyes the moment before I ran out of there. It wasn’t pity. It was something I’ve never felt before.

* * * *

I roll my shoulders and take a few deep breaths as I stare at the door to Elizabeth’s apartment Tuesday night. It doesn’t stop my heart from racing. For the first time in my life I’m fucking nervous about a girl.

Man up, Jacobs.

I knock on her door. She seems surprised when she answers it.

“Hi,” she mutters, staring at me quizzically. I guess she was expecting me to saunter in again.

I don’t own her and it’s important I remember that. No more playing boyfriend. Tonight I’m going to keep things flirty and casual.

“Hi,” I reply, waiting to be asked into the apartment. I let my eyes wander over her. She’s back in her baggy jeans, but she isn’t wearing the standard loose T-shirt. She’s in a tight tank top that’d give even a blind man the chance to admire how well-endowed she is.

The lettering stretched across her chest reads Sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come. That’s Elizabeth, adorable and sexy all in one. The thirteen-year-old in me wants to bury my face in her tits, motorboating until I can’t breathe. The twenty-one-year-old in me wants to make sure she comes. All. Night. Long.

“Hi,” she says again, biting her lip with a coy smile. This girl is casually delectable.

“You said that already,” I simper. “Can I come in? Or did you add voyeurism to our sex-abus?”

She gives me a light gasp before grabbing my shirt and pulling me into the apartment. She closes the door, crosses her arms and glares at me. I can’t help but chuckle. She’s beautiful when she’s pissed.

“Stop staring!” she demands.

“Am I staring?” I ask with a wolfish grin. I haven’t taken my eyes off her tits since she opened the door, but there’s no need to admit that without teasing her first.

“You know you are.”

“What could I possibly be staring at?”

“My…” She gestures to her chest, moving her hand in a big circle before re-crossing her arms.

“Your?” I plaster a stupid expression on my face, holding back my smile for as long as I can.

“My…chest.” She almost whispers the word.