Campus Player Page 6

  The smile disappears, only to be replaced with a frown. “She still with that guy?”

  I shrug, surprised he’s been following the whole Sydney-Ethan romantic rollercoaster.

  Which is...kind of interesting.

  “For the moment. Check back tomorrow. We could have a different answer.”

  With his brows beetled together, his gaze coasts over the throng.

  Almost as if he’s searching for her.

  Even though that seems doubtful, I can’t resist teasing, “Hmmm, am I sensing a bit of interest on your part?”

  He lifts a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a long swig. “The girl is seriously hot, but she’s way too much work.”

  I snort and shake my head.

  Here’s the thing about Brayden—he doesn’t chase girls, they chase him. With his dark hair and eyes, the guy is a real heartbreaker. He’s funny, has a great personality, and is intelligent. Not to mention muscular. In other words, he’s catnip for the females on campus. He’s been voted campus heartthrob three years running. And I have no doubt he’ll receive the distinction for his fourth and final year, a Western University first.

  Before I can investigate the situation further, a leggy blonde with humongous breasts squeezes her way between us before pressing her double D’s against him. He grins, his attention homing in on the groupie.

  I’ve watched this scene play out too many times not to know how it’ll end. He’ll flash his signature panty-dropping smile, and she’ll sigh, fall onto her back, and spread her legs wide.

  Someone hand me a barf bag before I’m sick.

  For a flicker of a moment, I’d actually thought he might be interested in Sydney. I glance at him again. The blonde is now clinging to him like a barnacle, and he’s certainly not fighting her off. I can all but guarantee that girl will be taking a ride on the Brayden express this evening.

  I’m knocked out of those thoughts when one of the younger guys comes up behind me and grinds. Mitch Harrison is a sophomore. He’s a defensive tackle and a teddy bear of a guy, weighing in at three hundred pounds. We had a class together last year. As far as dudes go, he’s pretty harmless. I’m about to bust out a move when a muscular arm slides between our bodies and hauls me away. Air gets trapped in my throat as I’m pressed against a hard chest.

  I don’t need to glance at the person holding me to realize who it is. My skin is abuzz with recognition. There’s only one guy capable of producing that kind of sensation within me.

  Rowan.

  As if to solidify my suspicions, he growls, “Knock it off, Harrison.” He pulls me so close that I’m able to feel every hard line of his body. Another punch of awareness hits me before settling in my core. “Leave her alone.”

  The deep rumble of his voice ties my insides up into a series of complicated little knots. As much as I want to pretend I’m stone cold inside and feel nothing where Rowan is concerned, I can’t. The attraction is too explosive to ignore.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Why can’t I control my body’s reaction to him?

  It’s frustrating to want someone you know you can’t have. Someone who isn’t good for you. And yet, that knowledge does nothing to stop the surge of hormones from flooding through me, lighting me up from the inside out. Since day one, when we were fourteen years old, I’ve been all too aware of Rowan Michaels. He’s ridiculously good looking. I can acknowledge that. At least privately to myself. And from the attention he garners, I’m certainly not the only one who thinks so.

  Up to this point, I’ve been successful in pushing all thoughts of him to the back of my brain, where I can ignore them. That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, and I don’t understand why. Something indelible has changed, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s like we’ve reached a tipping point.

  What I need right now is for our relationship to go back to the way it’s always been.

  Is that even possible?

  For some reason, I don’t think so.

  And that, my friends, is a huge freaking problem. One I have no idea how to solve.

  With no other choice but to confront the situation, I spin around in his arms before pressing my palms against his chest.

  What is it about him that makes my pulse race?

  I’ve never been attracted to guys with hair that nearly brushes their shoulders. I’ve always gone for clean cut boys. And yet, my fingers itch to tangle in the thick length. And when he wears one of those hair band thingies at practice?

  A shiver slides through me just thinking about it.

  The intensity of his gaze burns into mine, and it takes a moment to find my voice. “You’re kind of a buzzkill.” I exhale as everything spinning gradually resettles inside me. The last thing I want or need is for him to realize how easily he’s able to knock me off-kilter.

  Rowan quirks a brow. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. We were dancing. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  He doesn’t move, and yet somehow manages to loom closer, obscuring everything in my line of sight except for him. The raucous party fades as I’m trapped in the blueness of his eyes. They remind me so much of the ocean. Of waves crashing against the shoreline. It takes everything I have inside not to glance away and reveal how much he unnerves me. Even when my knees turn to jelly and I’m in immanent danger of sliding to the floor, I hold myself upright.

  “It’s doubtful Coach would approve of his players grinding up on his daughter.”

  He’s right. Dad wouldn’t care for it at all.

  But that doesn’t stop me from firing back with, “Do you think he would approve of you holding me like this?” His hands burn into my bare skin, making me wonder if I’ll be sporting marks for days.

  His lips thin as his eyes darken. “Probably not.”

  When his arms reluctantly fall to his sides, I take a hasty step back, needing distance to regain my bearings. I don’t fool myself into believing it’s anything less than full-on retreat. I need to distance myself from Rowan before something happens. There’s an explosive energy brewing in the air. It feels as if one strike of a match could blow us all to hell. I can’t take the chance of our relationship shifting anymore than it already has.

  “I need to find Justin.” Before Rowan can deter me, I swing away, shoving through the thick crowd that presses in on me. The more space I put between us, the easier it is to think straight. No one has ever affected me this way. Certainly not Justin. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into Rowan again for the rest of the night. It’s bad enough I see him three times a week in stats, and he insists on parking himself next to me every class period. Now I’ll have to spend time tutoring him.

  Alone.

  I gulp down the strange mixture of nerves and excitement that burst inside me like an overinflated balloon.

  When I set out this evening, I had no desire to meet up with the dark-haired baseball player. I figured we would talk at some point over the weekend, and I would gently break off our relationship. But right now, he feels like the safest alternative. Once I find him, I plan on sticking to the guy like glue.

  For the next ten minutes, I scour the first floor of the house before moving to the backyard where the party has spilled out, but there’s still no sign of him. Maybe Ethan was wrong, and he isn’t here. Or maybe he took off for a different party. There are enough of them happening around campus.

  I’m about to call off the mission and make my way back to Sydney when I spot Sasha, one of our goaltenders. I wave, and we end up chatting for a few minutes. I didn’t realize other girls from the team were here. I’ve combed the entire place and haven’t come across another teammate. Sasha informs me that a group of them are party-hopping, and they showed up thirty minutes ago. Most of the girls are like me—they like to go out and have a good time, but they don’t need to get shitfaced in order for that to occur. A number of them have athletic scholarships that pay for a chunk of their tuition and don’t want to jeopardize it. This may be a party school, but the san
ctions for getting caught, especially if you’re an athlete, are severe.

  “You haven’t seen Justin around, have you?” I yell over the music to make myself heard. Why am I even bothering to ask? It’s not like I really want to meet up with him. Now that I’ve found Sasha, I can hang with her for the rest of the night. Or I can try to find Sydney and hope they’re done sucking face.

  That thought brings a snort to my lips.

  Sasha’s brows draw together as confusion flickers across her expression. “I didn’t realize you two were still a thing.”

  “Yup.” At this point, it’s more of a technicality. I really need to talk to Justin before I tell anyone else that’s no longer the case.

  “Oh.” A troubled look fills her eyes before she glances away. “Um, yeah,” she mumbles, “I saw him about ten minutes ago in one of the back rooms.”

  “Great, thanks.” Her less than enthusiastic reaction has a prickle of unease blooming in the pit of my belly. Before it can take root, I shake it off. “I’ve been looking for him but haven’t had any luck. This place is a total madhouse.” I shrug. “I suppose if he’s here, I should say hi.”

  “Yeah.” Sasha gives me a slight smile in return. “I guess so.”

  Decision made, I take a step toward the back bedrooms when she reaches out, wrapping slender fingers around my forearm. While Sasha and I are friends and teammates, we’ve never been close. Although we’ve always been cool with one another.

  “I’m sorry, Demi. I didn’t know.”

  Her comment is so out of left field that I have no idea what it means. “What are you sorry about?”

  Before I can ask anything more, she releases me and disappears into the crowd. I blink, and she’s gone.

  That was a really bizarre thing to say. Maybe Sasha is more drunk than I assumed.

  Even so, my brain churns, trying to come up with an answer that makes sense.

  I’m tempted to go after her and get to the bottom of this, but it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. I’ll pull her aside on Monday at practice and figure out what she meant.

  It takes effort to shake off her cryptic words as I push my way through the mass of bodies toward the back hallway off the kitchen. The first bedroom I peek inside has about eight people sitting around, smoking a bowl. A thick haze permeates the air. A cursory inspection tells me Justin isn’t here. And since I’m not looking for a contact high, I quickly back away. The last thing I need is to test positive for pot. All athletes at WU are drug tested throughout the year. They agree to random testing when they sign their NCAA eligibility paperwork before stepping foot on campus. Most of us have worked our entire lives to reach this level of play and aren’t willing to throw it away over a couple hours of mindless pleasure.

  I check two more bedrooms, but Justin is nowhere to be found. It’s always possible that Sasha was wrong about seeing him, and it was simply a case of mistaken identity. At this point, I’m not even sure it matters. I’ve had enough and am more than ready to call it a night.

  I’m about to take off in the opposite direction down the hallway when a noise catches my attention. It’s barely audible over the pumping beat of music that echoes off the paper-thin walls.

  I’m not sure what has me creeping around the corner. A sixth sense maybe. Even though there are more shadows where the light from above doesn’t reach, plunging the narrow area into darkness, there’s enough illumination to make out the guy standing with his back pressed against the wall. A rough groan slides from his lips as my widened gaze drops to the girl on her knees in front of him. It’s fairly obvious what’s going on here. My lungs fill with air as the girl works him with her mouth, sucking him deep into her throat before sliding nearly to the tip and repeating the maneuver.

  I’ll tell you what, this chick is a total pro. She knows how to give a BJ. The polite thing to do would be to carefully back away and disappear down the hall, but I’m unable to do that. My feet are rooted in place. I wish this were a faceless, nameless guy but it’s not.

  It’s Justin.

  Unfortunately, the look on Sasha’s face now makes perfect sense. She knew he was fooling around with someone else.

  The growl that escapes from my boyfriend is enough to have me blinking back to the present. His eyes are squeezed tight and there’s a slight gape to his parted lips. His fingers are tangled in thick hair.

  Auburn-colored hair, if I’m not mistaken.

  Annica.

  Why am I not surprised?

  Although this is an all-time low, even for her.

  As if realizing she has an audience, Annica cracks open her eyes and locks them on me. Instead of flaring with surprise, embarrassment, or even guilt, a victorious light fills them. As if this is what she wanted all along. For me to find them together. It might be dark and shadowy in the cramped hallway, but the look she sends me is blatant. Much like the shove on the field after the game on Thursday, this was intentional. I’m sure if her mouth wasn’t stuffed full of Justin’s dick, she would be grinning ear-to-ear.

  What a bitch.

  She really has no shame. I’ve never met a girl like her. And to be clear, I’ve dealt with my fair share of bitchy mean girls throughout the years, but this one takes the cake.

  When Annica’s movements become more frenzied, Justin’s fingers tighten on her scalp before he pulls her closer. Even though I don’t give a damn about him, it’s not in my nature to skulk away with my tail tucked between my legs. I want the dark-haired boy to know that he’s been caught with his pants around his ankles.

  Literally.

  The fact that he chose to cheat on me with one of my own teammates makes him beyond despicable. I fold my arms across my chest and wait for the perfect moment to interrupt.

  His face scrunches as he throws his head back, exposing his throat. “Yeah, just like that. I’m gonna—”

  “I have to admit, I was expecting a little more in the length department.” I point to his groin. “That’s seriously disappointing.”

  His eyelids fly open as he jerks to awareness. His mouth gapes momentarily before he quickly shoves Annica away from him. The younger girl lands on her ass with a grunt.

  A thin smile curves my lips as I hold up a hand. “Please don’t stop on my account. I wanted to interrupt for a brief moment to tell you that we’re over.” I glance at the auburn-haired girl who, at one time, I’d considered a friend. “You two are perfectly suited for one another.”

  “Demi!” he yells.

  I turn away, not bothering to look over my shoulder as I stalk down the hallway. And here I’d thought it was possible to remain friends after our breakup.

  Ha!

  That’s no longer happening. With any luck, I’ll be able to avoid Justin for the remainder of the year. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Annica. The level this girl will stoop to in order to hurt me is almost unbelievable. And a little bit scary. I should have listened to Sydney from the beginning.

  At some point, my vindictive teammate will have to be dealt with. But it won’t be this evening. Tonight, my plan is to go home and drown myself in a pint of chocolate ice cream. The name of the flavor—death by chocolate—now makes so much more sense.

  I snort and continue to push my way to the living room, only wanting to leave this party—and the memories—behind.

  9

  Rowan

  I lift the bottle of beer to my lips and take a swig. It goes down smooth but does nothing to alleviate the discontent that brews beneath the surface. There’s only one person capable of that, and it’s not the sad imitation currently hanging on me.

  “We should get out of here.” Her slim hands stroke over my chest as she stares up at me with dark eyes. “We can go back to my place and talk.”

  Right. I think we both realize that conversing is not this girl’s end goal. The only thing she wants to better acquaint herself with is my cock.

  Why pretend otherwise?

  What I’ve come to learn over th
ree years at WU is that most of these girls are a carbon copy of each other. The hair, eyes, and body size might be different, but beneath the exterior features, they’re all the same. They want the notoriety that comes from being with a high-profile athlete on campus. Throw in someone who has a chance of turning pro and making millions, and you got yourself a stage five clinger.

  That’s the last thing I want.

  Or need.

  But this girl—if I squint hard enough and suck down a couple more drinks—bares a striking resemblance to a certain someone else. Thinking along those lines will be precisely what gets me into trouble.

  “Rowan?” When I don’t answer, she presses closer, pushing her breasts against my chest. “Did you hear me?”

  Yeah, I heard. If I end up leaving with her, it’ll be for all the wrong reasons. She might resemble Demi with her dark hair and eyes, but her body is a lot softer instead of being tight and athletic.

  I’m five seconds away from giving in when my skin prickles, and I glance around, knowing that she’s somewhere in the nearby vicinity. Call it fucked up Spidey senses. I scan the thick crowd until my gaze homes in on her dark head. Her lips are a tight slash across her face, and there’s a hollowed-out look in her eyes. Even from this distance, I realize something is wrong.

  Without thinking, I yell, “Demi!”

  Even though the music is obnoxiously loud, and I’m unsure if my voice carries, her gaze slices to mine as if she knew I was standing there the entire time. It only reconfirms that I’m not the only one who feels the strange gravitational pull. Whether she wants to admit it or not, there is a bond that connects us to one another.

  For a fleeting moment, our gazes lock and hold. Pain flares in her eyes before it’s blinked away. She drags her gaze from mine before pushing steadily through the mass of bodies toward the front door.

  I don’t realize I’m on the move until the girl previously wrapped around me calls out, “Hey! Where are you going?”

  Barely do I stop to throw the words over my shoulder. “Sorry, a friend needs me.”