Free Never Wanted More by Stacey Mosteller

find".  

Chapter 11

    "So what do you want to do tonight?" Scarlett asks as everyone files out of Music Theory.
    I shrug, "Nothing really. I'm supposed to meet up with Wyatt for tutoring this evening, but I'm free until then. Why?"
    "I was hoping we could go check out a club someone told me about the other day." She's pouting, but I really do need to study.  
    "Sorry Scar, I have a big Algebra test tomorrow and if I fail, Wyatt's promised he'll come up with something really horrible for me to do as punishment. Since I don't like punishment, and I'm terrified of what he might come up with, I'm going to make sure I pass... even if I have to offer sexual favors to the teacher."
    Scarlett brightens at that thought, "Ooh, you know what? I read a book about that the other day --" I quickly cut her off. Those kinds of thoughts are the last ones I need before going to meet Wyatt tonight.
    "Uh-uh, just stop right there!" I order. "You need new reading material!"
    Realizing what's going through my mind, Scarlett doubles over in laughter, "Oh. My. God! You should totally see your face right now! I didn't know you were such a dirty girl!"
    "Shut it," I snap. "We so don't need to have this conversation."
    Scarlett continues to snicker while we head back to the dorms to meet up with Annabelle and Kat for dinner.
    ***
    Dinner is basically just a "pick on Peyton about Wyatt" event, leaving me extremely agitated by the time Scarlett drops me off at the gym to meet Wyatt. His practice should have been over twenty minutes ago, but I don't see him or any of the other players hanging around outside either. Right now, I've only got two choices, either sit out here alone while it gets dark, or go inside and wait for Wyatt to be finished. Honestly, I'm not sure which is the more dangerous option. If I stay outside, I'm in the dark and by myself which means anything could happen. If I go inside to watch the rest of practice, I'm going to see Wyatt in a basketball uniform, or at least shorts and a t-shirt, sweaty. It also means I'll be seeing his muscles work which will just make him even harder to resist.
    It doesn't take long for me to realize that staying outside isn't a good option. It's still winter, and at 7pm, it's completely dark outside. The longer I sit on this bench, the colder and more freaked out I get. Soon, I am jumping at every little sound and telling myself that someone is watching me. Hurrying inside I realize I was only really outside for about five minutes. Yeah, I'm Peyton the badass alright. Taking a seat on a bleacher as far away from the guys practicing as I can, I decide to enjoy this little bit of sweaty-guy watching. I mean, they're basketball players, so they are all tall, toned, and sexy, even with the sweat rolling down their bodies and their hair matted to their heads.
    The guys are all standing single file, taking turns throwing the ball at the hoop, well "shooting" the ball... I think that's what it's called. I'm not up on my "basketball lingo", I've never needed to know anything about it. Each guy throws the ball ten times before moving to the back of the line. The majority of the guys get six or seven shots in out of ten, but when it's Wyatt's turn, he only misses once! Like an idiot, I stand up and yell, "Go Wyatt!" His head snaps up to look for me, and when he finds me on the far side of the gym he smiles, happy that I'm watching him. They continue to cycle through, and on Wyatt's next turn up, he only gets four out of ten. He's obviously angry about it because he throws the ball to the next person in line hard , knocking the breath out of him for a second. The coach says something to him as he walks past him, but Wyatt just shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair.
    Wyatt doesn't get another chance to throw because the coach blows his whistle and tells the team to line up for what he calls "suicides". This consists of the guys running up and down the court, stopping first a quarter of the way down the