Campus Player Page 3

  And Rowan is nothing if not a complication.

  One I can’t afford.

  4

  Demi

  Justin parks his Honda Civic in front of the two-story brick residence I spent my childhood in. After the divorce, Dad considered downsizing, since it was only the two of us, but I begged him not to. There’s something comforting about the knowledge that you can go back to the house you grew up in. Even though my parents are no longer together, and the divorce was hard on all of us, our home was a happy one, and I have a ton of fond memories. Plus, I love the rectangle-shaped pool in the backyard. It’s always nice to pop over in the summer and take a dip after soccer practice.

  Justin reaches over and lays his fingers across mine. I wait for a little buzz of sensation. Any indication that will sway me into giving him one last shot. Other than the slight clamminess from his perspiring hand, there’s nothing. “You ready to do this?”

  Nope, not at all. Instead of admitting that I’ve made an epic mistake, I nod and hoist my smile.

  After he releases my hand and exits the vehicle, I swipe my palm across my thigh before giving myself a quick pep talk and doing the same. As we meet on the sidewalk, I smooth down the navy-colored shorts I’ve paired with a cap sleeved white floral wrap top.

  Butterflies wing their way to life within the confines of my belly. The nervousness crashing around inside me is ridiculous. This isn’t the first boy I’ve brought home and introduced to my father. Although, admittedly, it’s been a while. Most of the guys I’ve gone out with get irritated when I’m not available to hang out at their whim. If they are athletes, then their schedule is as jam-packed as mine, and the relationship ends up fizzling out on its own.

  Sometimes it feels like a lose-lose situation.

  “You look seriously hot,” Justin says, interrupting the whirl of my thoughts.

  “Thanks.” I glance at my outfit. What I’m wearing isn’t dressy, it’s just not my usual athletic shorts paired with a T-shirt.

  He gives me a wink and a grin before clasping my hand again. I wince as his damp palm comes in contact with my skin and resist the urge to tug it away. Hand in hand, we walk up the brick path to the front door. I rap my knuckles against the wood before pushing it open and stepping inside the entryway. As I glance around, my gaze lands on Dad and Rowan. They’re sitting on the couch, heads bent together as Dad draws out plays on the whiteboard.

  I almost roll my eyes. There is never a time when these two aren’t talking football.

  Dad glances up. “Hey, honey!” When I raise my brows, a sheepish smile breaks out across his face, and he tosses the dry erase marker onto the coffee table before rising to his feet. “Just squeezing in a little chalk talk.”

  And this would be exhibit A as to why Mom walked out five years ago and never looked back. As much as I love my father, I can’t blame her for wanting to be with a man who was capable of leaving his work at the office. Or, in my dad’s case, on the football field.

  My father’s gaze slides from mine to the guy at my side before he steps forward and extends a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Justin. Demi’s told me a lot about you.”

  Actually, I’ve been very tight-lipped about our relationship. In all honesty, there hasn’t been much to say. And after tonight, there will be even less.

  From the corner of my eye, Rowan rises to his feet before making his way over to us.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, sir. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

  “We’re happy to have you.” Dad lays a hand on Rowan’s shoulder as if he’s the proud papa. “I’m sure you already know who this guy is.”

  You would have to live under a rock not to realize who Rowan is, and even then, if you had access to the internet, you’d probably still recognize him. At Western, he’s treated like a celebrity with all the perks that come with his fame. There are huge posters of him plastered everywhere on campus. You can’t go anywhere without seeing his handsome face.

  I mean ugly mug.

  “Of course.” Justin extends a hand to Rowan. “Good to see you, man.”

  The blond football player gives him a chin lift in acknowledgment.

  I can’t help but compare the two as they stand next to one another. Even though Justin is four or five inches taller than I am, he’s still a handful of inches shorter than Rowan. And where Rowan has thick, chiseled muscles, Justin is leaner. Almost boyish.

  Wait a minute...what the hell am I doing?

  The moment I realize that I’m comparing them, I shove those disturbing thoughts from my brain. There’s no reason to do that. And I don’t even want to acknowledge that Justin has come up sadly lacking in the evaluation.

  Ugh. This evening can’t be over with quickly enough.

  “Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes,” Dad says, surprising me when he throws an arm around Justin’s shoulders. “I was thinking the two of us could have a little chat in the study and get to know one another better. What do you say, buddy?”

  Buddy?

  That doesn’t bode well.

  “Oh.” Unease flickers across Justin’s face before his gaze settles on mine. I get the feeling he’s looking for me to throw him a lifeline. “Um, sure.”

  “Is that really necessary?” I ask with a scowl.

  “Of course it is, sweetie. I want to make sure Justin has the right intentions as far as my little girl is concerned.”

  How is it possible this situation went from bad to worse in two seconds flat?

  “Dad...” I groan. “If I’d known you were going to give Justin the third degree, I wouldn’t have brought him to dinner.”

  “I guess you’ll know better next time.” He chuckles before slapping Justin on the back. The dark-haired baseball player stumbles forward before quickly righting himself. “Calm down, I’m kidding. I have no intention of hurting the boy.” There’s a pause. “Yet.”

  Silence descends before Dad barks out another laugh. “I’m joking! Sheesh. Everyone is so serious. There’s no reason for concern.” The smile drops off his face as he narrows his eyes at the baseball player. “There’s no reason to be concerned, is there, Justin?”

  Justin shakes his head. “No, sir.”

  “Good.”

  This was a mistake.

  Before I can offer up a protest, Dad steers my date from the living room into the study, sealing them inside his home office. I jump when the lock clicks into place and gape at the closed door for about twenty seconds. I’m tempted to stalk over and bang on the wood until Dad opens it so I can drag Justin out again.

  I never should have brought him home. This will definitely be the last time it happens. The only guy Dad doesn’t mind having around is—

  I glance at the tall boy with the long blond hair.

  Boy is probably the wrong term to use as a descriptor. Rowan Michaels is definitely all man.

  Please tell me I didn’t just think that.

  Guilty.

  Oh, so guilty.

  “So,” he says, stuffing his hands deep inside the pockets of his khaki shorts.

  I clear my throat, unable to rip my gaze from his. I’m caught in the crosshairs of those ocean blue depths. It’s disconcerting. “So.”

  He points to the couch. “Want to sit down?”

  My brow furrows as I throw another concerned glance toward the study. “I guess.” Hesitantly I move toward the well-worn tan microfiber couch that has seen better days before settling gingerly at one end. Instead of sitting at the opposite side, so there’s a fair amount of distance between us, Rowan drops down next to me. He’s so close that his thigh grazes mine. A little zing of unwanted attraction scampers down my spine, and I grit my teeth in a feeble attempt to ignore the sensation.

  Over the years, I’ve made it a point to never be alone with Rowan. Now that I am, I have no idea what to do. I search my brain for something to say, but it comes up empty. The silence that stretches only ratchets up my nerves.

  It’s
almost a relief when he says, “Big game tomorrow, huh?”

  Whatever you do, don’t look at him.

  Even though I tell myself to resist the temptation, it’s like an involuntary reflex. Staring at Rowan feels suspiciously like gazing at the sun. It’s dangerous to my health. Any moment, my retinas will turn to dust.

  “Yup.” I fiddle nervously with the hem of my shorts, wishing they stretched further down my legs. “UNC.”

  “I’ve watched a little bit of game film,” he throws out casually. “Lookout for number fifty-five, and you’ll do fine.”

  My eyes widen before flicking to his. “You watched game film?”

  Of soccer?

  Why would he do that?

  His admission sends a cascade of warmth flooding through me. It takes everything I have inside to stomp it out.

  He shrugs, and his muscles dance beneath his T-shirt. “I had a little time between classes, and I was curious to see what UNC looked like this season.”

  I...have no response to that.

  “One of their midfielders, number thirty-one, is out with an injury.”

  Ummm...yeah, I know. Coach and I had a lengthy discussion about it this afternoon. I just never expected him to realize it, too. I blink and attempt to regain my equilibrium. At every turn, Rowan manages to throw me off-balance. He shifts, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. When the tips of his fingers brush against my shoulder, it sends a thousand tiny shivers scurrying across my flesh.

  What the hell is going on here?

  Why is my body reacting like this?

  “It won’t be an easy win,” he continues, as if unaware of the anxiety spiking through me, “but I think you guys will pull it off in the end if you play with an offensive strategy in mind.”

  Soccer.

  Right.

  We’re discussing soccer. Tomorrow’s game, to be specific.

  Focus, Demi!

  I blink, attempting to rein in all the strange, out of control feelings he stirs up inside me.

  Nope. I can’t do it. I can’t sit here and nonchalantly shoot the shit with Rowan. He makes me nervous. Twitchy. I have a difficult time concentrating when he’s this close. More than anything, I don’t want to feel this way about him.

  Before I realize it, I’m popping off the couch like a Jack-in-the-Box and jumping to my feet. “I need something to drink.” That being said, I race out of the living room like my ass is on fire. “Want anything?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  I don’t have to turn around to realize there’s a smile lighting up his face as I haul ass to the kitchen. Once there, I exhale and attempt to collect myself.

  This is ridiculous.

  I am not attracted to Rowan.

  I don’t even like the guy!

  What?

  It’s true, I don’t!

  My nerves are jangled because Dad has sequestered Justin in the study, and I can only imagine the kind of grilling that is taking place. I rub my temples and suppress the groan fighting to break free. I really hope he hasn’t opened the safe and brought out his rifle in an attempt to scare Justin.

  He did that once before. Other than my father, no one else found it the least bit amusing.

  It takes a few minutes to lock down all of the emotions rushing around inside me. If Dad isn’t out of the office in approximately three minutes, I’m storming the room and busting Justin out. With a firm game plan in mind, everything inside me settles as I yank open the refrigerator door and grab a bottle of water before slamming it shut again.

  I spin around, only to find Rowan standing a foot away. A squeak of surprise escapes from me. He’s so close that one step would have me bumping into the wide expanse of his chest. The plastic water bottle gets bumbled, falling to the hardwood at my feet before rolling away.

  Rowan doesn’t release my gaze as he drops to the floor. I’m held spellbound as he reaches out and grabs the bottle before straightening to his full height. Only then does he hold it out for me to take.

  When I remain frozen in place, he smiles. “I changed my mind about that drink.”

  The deep scrape of his voice jostles me from my paralysis, and I reach out, nipping the plastic from him before stumbling in retreat. It’s only a step before my back hits the stainless-steel door. Electricity crackles in the air as he moves closer, invading my personal space until his warm exhalation is able to feather across my lips. I flatten against the fridge as my heart pumps painfully.

  His gaze holds mine captive as he yanks open one of the doors. His forearm brushes against me as he reaches inside and grabs a water. His chest is so close that I feel the suffocating heat wafting off him. Once the bottle is wrapped in his fingers, he closes the door but doesn’t back away. He continues to crowd me. When my tongue darts out to moisten my lips, his attention drops to the movement. The black of his pupils dilate, and a punch of arousal hits me.

  For a sliver of a moment, I wonder if he’ll close the distance and kiss me. Only now am I willing to acknowledge how much I want to feel the soft pressure of his lips coasting over mine. Maybe I’ve always wanted it. This isn’t something I’ve ever allowed myself to admit. Not even privately.

  Especially privately.

  Everything in me becomes whipcord tight as I wait for what will happen next. It’s the opening of the study door that shatters the tension-filled silence that has fallen over us and knocks me out of the thick Rowan-induced haze.

  Holy crap!

  The air escapes from my lungs in a rush as I duck beneath his arm and flee to the safety of the living room where Dad waits with Justin. My gaze arrows to the dark-haired boy, and I feel—

  Nothing.

  It’s disappointing but not surprising. It only solidifies my decision to pull the plug on this relationship sooner rather than later. From the corner of my eye, I notice the smirk on Rowan’s face. It’s like the bastard knows exactly what I’m thinking and couldn’t agree more.

  My shoulders collapse.

  There’s only one thing I know for certain and that’s tonight will be a long-ass night.

  5

  Demi

  Can you stop by the office when you get a chance?

  I glance at the text from Dad before pocketing my cell phone as I head from my last class for the afternoon and onto the cement walkway that winds through campus. It’s three o’clock, and I need to go home, grab something to eat, and get my butt to the field.

  Lucky for Dad, I pass by the stadium on my way home. Less than ten minutes later, I’m strolling down the corridor. One left and then a right turn brings me to the guy’s locker room where Dad’s office is located. The moment I pull open the door, boisterous male voices greet my ears. That might deter some girls from stepping inside, but not me. A quick scan of the interior solidifies my suspicion that the team has just finished up practice. There are guys in various states of undress. Some already have underwear on while others have small white towels draped around their waists. I catch sight of a few naked ass cheeks before jerking my gaze straight ahead.

  “Hey, Demi!” a few guys call out, unconcerned with their nudity. That just goes to show you the difference between males and females. Most girls I know wouldn’t willingly parade around in front of the opposite sex.

  I throw up my hand in a quick wave, not bothering to glance in their direction. I’ve been in the locker room dozens of times. It’s not really a big deal. I’ve known these guys since freshman year, so most of the players see me as one of the boys.

  Coach’s daughter.

  As I move past another set of lockers, that telltale tingle of awareness scampers down my spine. There’s only one person capable of instilling that kind of sensation in me. I don’t have to glance over to confirm my suspicions.

  Although that doesn’t stop my eyes from snapping in his direction. What I find is the blond quarterback lounging in front of his locker with a small towel wrapped across lean hips. His attention fastens on me, and I feel the connection straig
ht down to my toes. Almost as if it’s a physical caress. Before I can stop myself, my gaze dips to his bare chest.

  Damn.

  Why does he have to be so gorgeous?

  The sculpted, sinewy strength that stands out in sharp relief is enough to make my mouth turn cottony. How is it possible that his muscles have muscles?

  All of the raucous laughter falls away as my focus drifts from perfect pectorals to tight washboard abdominals. It’s like I’m having my own not-so-private moment with him. Even though I’m wearing shorts and a thin cotton T-shirt, my body is seconds away from bursting into flames. I’m tempted to pick up the collar of my shirt and pull it away from my chest in an attempt to cool myself.

  My attention sinks to the towel, and I narrow my eyes, wishing for the first time in my life I had X-ray vision.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Mortified by my shameless perusal, I rip my gaze away and race into my father’s office before slamming the door and collapsing against it. My inhalations turn labored as I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to banish the nearly naked image of Rowan from my mind.

  It doesn’t work. The last minute has been singed into my memory for all eternity. And my panties...yeah, they are embarrassingly damp.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Dad says, knocking me out of those disturbing thoughts.

  My eyelids fly open, locking on him. Thank God he can’t see the X-rated images rolling through my head. The man would have a heart attack if he realized I was sexually attracted to his star quarterback.

  We’ve always been more like siblings who barely tolerate one another. All right, so maybe that’s not a hundred percent true. I’m the one with a problem, not the other way around. Rowan doesn’t seem to have an issue with me.

  It would be so much better if he did.

  It takes everything I have inside to shove those thoughts away and paste a smile on my face. “Hey, Dad.”