Raining on the Bad Boy

Screw it

#1 draft published 4/9/16

Beatrice's POV:

Okay, I'm going to be completely honest, I don't know shit about football. All I know is that every time the ball got passed to Warren I would clench my butt cheeks and grind my teeth.

After the first half our team was loosing by quite some way. As the buzzer sounded al the boys on our team started moping around. Warren pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, using his other hand to rake through his wet and tousled hair.

He is bitting his lip in frustration and he's looking at his friends, shaking his head.

I ring my hands. It pains me so much to see Warren this way. All of my previous angst had drifted away from me.

Jamie catches his eye as he waves up in our direction, and it seems Becca notices too. He motions with his hand for her to come down. I look back at her and she's nodding quickly.

When I thought that she would just shuffle past me, she actually grabs my hand, and looks at me with a pouty mouth. She mouths come with me and before I have time to object I'm being dragged down the steps of the bleachers.

As we reach the field Rebecca splits off from me and sashays over to where Jamie is scratching his head.

Without really knowing what to do, I sit down on the grass, cross legged. Okay, that probably wasn't what I should have done but now I'm out of sight from those sitting in the bleachers.

I start picking at the grass nervously, before hearing the sound of footsteps and then a thump of someone sitting down beside me. Of course, I didn't have to look to know who this was.

"You're doing really well, out there," I breathe, still looking at my spindly hands.
"Not well enough," Warren's deep voice grumbles from my side.

As he readjusts his sitting position his knee grazes mine and the heat that comes from it sends a chill all down my body.

I look up at him and smile solemnly.

"How's your day been?" He soothes, still holding my gaze intensely.
"Greattttt," I say sarcastically, feigning a cheesy grin. He chuckles before I add, "what about you?"
"Pretty shit. Every girl that has come onto me, touched me, or even looked at me has made me feel like shit because she's not you. And now, I'm going to loss this game because I can't get you out of my head."

Shock, flashes down my body. I look upon his beautiful figures, dumbfounded.

I stare deeply into his chocolate eyes, but his gaze travels down to my parted lips. He begins to lean in further and further and I respond by mirroring his movements.

We are both stopped in our tracks when the coach blows his whistle, calling the boys in for a huddle.

Warren looks over at his team and his jaw clenches. Looking at his chiselled profile, I am pulled into a daze and before I have time to realise what a fool I am, I grab his head and pull him towards me, pulling his mouth onto mine.

I kiss him the only way I know how, intensely and passionately. Heat seers down my body and makes my breathing hitch. He cups my face gently in his hands and strokes my cheek with his calloused thumb.

"Hey! Mason!" The coach's voice booms across the field and I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment as our lips part.

Some of the boys cheer and whoop, but I ignore them and move my lips so they hover over his ear.
"I know you've got this." I say as smoothly as I can muster with my rapidly beating heart. I then place a slow kiss on his jaw line and stand up, leaving him sitting on the floor, gaping at me.