The QB Bad Boy and Me

(7) "I guess I would,"

"Dallas, I'm sorry."

I was beginning to think that Drayton was physically incapable of saying the words. He'd hinted towards slight remorse after making the remark on the football field regarding my apparent drug habit and insinuating I'd given him sexual favours. But he'd been yet to actually acknowledge that he was apologetic.

So I can't help but turn onto my back, finding him on his side, watching me with cautious eyes.

"Did you just say sorry?"

"Yes," he sighs, leaning up on his elbow. "I shouldn't have done that just now and I shouldn't have said what I said on Tuesday. That was messed up."

I'm reluctant to immediately accept his apology, just based on the track record of his habit to do a one-eighty on me and say something stupid again. But his face seems genuine so after a long moment of silence I finally sigh.

"Forgiveness is granted. But you're on probation."

"Probation?"

"Yes, probation. Do something stupid again and you'll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life."

"Damn cheer pear." He gives me a terrified wide-eyed stare. "You're violent."

"You got that right." I prop myself up on an elbow again so we're now both facing each other. "So tell me something, are you really a drug dealer?"

"No," he laughs lightly, rubbing his eye. "I know a guy who occasionally hooks me up with a little weed and we might pass around the odd joint at a party. That's all."

"You're on steroids aren't you? That's the only explanation for" - I wave my hand over his built torso - "all of that!"

"I'll have you know I spend hours in the gym and on the field thank you very much. There's no shortcuts here."

"If you say so," I mimic his earlier comment with a sly smirk. He must be exhausted because he continually yawns, covering his mouth with his hand, causing his bicep to flex. I've literally lost my mind. I am not this shallow, surely.

Suddenly my phone starts flashing, indicating that I have a notification. I snatch it off the side table drawer, falling on my back and reading the home screen before I start typing in my password.

"Tinder?" Drayton scoffs. "You're on tinder?"

"Do you have no personal boundaries!" I rethink my course of action and decide not to check the notification while he's hovering about. "It's none of your business."

"Come on." He inches slightly closer towards me. "I told you something about myself. Share."

"You told me you occasionally smoke up with your buddies. Yippee. So does half the population!" I put the phone back on the side table drawer and fold my arms across my chest as I stare at the ceiling.

"You don't need to be on tinder ya know?" I can physically sense his eyes on me and it's unnerving to say the least. "You're hot enough to score without a booty call app."

"I don't wanna date," I huff loudly, ignoring the little flutters in my tummy when he calls me hot. "And I don't wanna hook up with people from town. So occasionally when I get an itch that needs scratching I go on tinder and meet people from the towns over. Okay. No big deal. Can we sleep now?"

"Wait wait wait." Drayton holds his hands up, as if to put a halt to any thoughts that are getting away from him. "You, Dallas Bryan, you do booty calls because you want a no strings attached situation."