[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despis...
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Hannah
H: Thanks for the coffee. I don't think I would have survived without it.
T: I figured you were gonna be tired. I didn't exactly go easy on you.
H: If easy means letting me go to sleep before 4 in the morning, then no, you didn't go easy on me. I was so out of it, I walked into the wrong class and sat there for 10 minutes before realizing I wasn't supposed to be in Greek Literature 303. I thought I couldn't understand anything because I was just that tired.
I could still feel him, especially when I sat down or crossed my legs. And I was exhausted. Tristan had only allowed me short power naps before waking me up again. His stamina both impressed and terrified me. And yet I couldn't deny that last night was incredible — indescribable.
T: I would say I'm sorry, but then I'd be lying. My coach told me to stop smiling so much because I was freaking out the freshmen.
I giggled at his response, sitting on the edge of my bed before flopping back onto the mattress. Even though I was exhausted, a restless energy buzzed through me — and it felt suspiciously like I missed him. Which was ridiculous, considering I'd seen him less than an hour ago when he dropped off my coffee at the library. It had been a quick drop-and-go since he had another class, but I could still feel the lingering warmth of the sneaky kiss he left me with.
Unprompted, my mind drifted back to last night. It almost felt unreal. Just yesterday, we were friends, and now... friends with benefits, I guess. Exclusive friends with benefits. And I couldn't bring myself to regret any of it, not when my body responded to his hands like he was the one who'd sculpted it.
I didn't even know men were capable of that. Bailey always said most guys were either too focused on themselves or clueless about what a woman actually wanted, since every woman had different needs. I could definitely attest to that with Dylan—last night had really highlighted just how selfish and lazy he'd been. But not Tristan — I liked everything he did. Were we compatible, or was he more experienced than I'd realized?
I didn't know how to feel about the latter, but, honestly, I couldn't complain when that experience gave me the best sex of my life. Besides, I had no room to judge anyone for their past partners, considering my shining example of a past.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. I grabbed it, half-expecting it to be Tristan. But when I saw my best friend's name flash across the screen, I smiled. Pleasantly surprised and not at all disappointed, I answered without hesitation.
"Hey, there, Bay leaf."
"Hey, there, Sugartits," she purred back.
I laughed, staring up at my curling. "Sugartits?"
"Some crackhead at the 7/11 called me that, and I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. You should've seen his face — he looked like he genuinely thought I belonged in a mental hospital," she cackled.
