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I’m a pretty face, a nice set of abs, and a really, really good fuck, and I don’t pretend to be anything more.
“I want to be like you.” “Devastatingly handsome?” She grins wider. “No, a player. Hayden, I want you to teach me to be a player.”
My type is Darcy Andersen.
I like her. I’ve always liked her. It’s not going away, no matter how hard I try. And teaching her the things she wants to learn? It just might kill me.
Hayden skates past and our eyes lock. His gaze goes from my jersey to my hair before he winks, and my heart skips a beat.
My good luck charm, he mouths, pointing at me.
“Whoa, Darcy,” he teases, grabbing my wrists and grinning ear to ear. “At least wait until we get home to undress me.”
I like it when she’s a dork, though. Darcy makes math look hot.
“I love it when you talk math to me, baby.”
maybe I fell a little in love with her every time I saw her, every time we laughed together or texted or hugged, until I was at full capacity and head over fucking heels for her.
