The plan was simple. I go inside when all the Football boys are too engrossed with their pre-tryouts stuff, get the shirts, and get out. It was going to be easy as one, two, three.
Then it wasn’t. All because of him.
“Be my girlfriend.”
I froze. What kind of hellish nightmare did I get myself into?
Cristiano stood in front of me, one hand raised way above the height I can reach so I couldn’t get to the shirt I needed, and a cunning smile that sent goosebumps all over my body.
He was handsome. In a deadly-I’m-so-screwed way. I wish he wasn’t, then maybe this would be so much easier.
Did I mention he was only wearing a freaking towel around his waist? It looked like one wrong step and that knot on the side would unclasp dropping his only piece of clothing and revealing-
Oh, shush
