Page 28 of Out of Bounds

"Kassandra Ragar is nothing more than a distraction and I want that clear to everybody in this car," I snapped but Adam burst into laughter. My jaw set. "You all understand that, right? I’m serious. She’s—she’s something else, but she’s something else that’s strictly work."

"Sure."

"Adam, I just don’t need you pulling your regular dumb shit in front of her."

"So…better dumb shit?"

"Nodumb shit."

Adam rolled down the window again to howl out of the car.

I sighed. The linebacker wasn’t being an asshole. It was our way of spending our last year together. We trained every second of every day for our football careers, put in the blood, sweat, and tears, all for that one chance.

Everybody besides Coach Lawson was trying to convince me to stay beyond our upcoming win at the Birchwood Bowl. They wanted me for a senior year we all knew I didn’t need.

"Where’d she tell you to meet her?" King’s voice broke from the back seat.

"She should be close," I said, parking the car.

The walk from the car to the frat’s front door was littered with crushed beer cans, broken lamps, giggling freshmen, and some guy pissing off the second-floor window. It wasn’t hard to remember why I’d been adamant about skipping frat parties.

Adam took a deep breath. "Isn’t it beautiful?"

That wasn’t what I would’ve called it. The frat house was packed and sweaty, an overfilled locker room where everybody conveniently forgot to use deodorant. A living list of reasons why I’d kept to the Division I sleep schedule. Something sticky stuck to the underside of my five-hundred-dollar sneaker.

What a waste of time.

Some guys clapped me on the shoulder, and I shook hands, still distracted.

Where is she?

King stepped up. "Do you see her?"

I checked the room for dark waves, a curved mouth, maybe…sketching something? "She should be here. Right here."

Different rooms, more sweaty people, but no Kassie. She wouldn’t have left the party early. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket.

She never responded to the text I sent ten minutes ago, saying I was driving up. Her secret art account didn’t have any updates either and I’d been checking that every hour, on the hour. Nothing.

Adam handed me a beer. "I think she’s outside."

Outside?

I spotted her legs next to a couple of grills. Long legs crossed over each other, straight out of a swimsuit edition, in the smallest pair of jean shorts imaginable. Why the hell did they sell them that short? A jersey drifted loose down her waist but still showed a hint of her curves when she swayed to the music.

There she was. The first real smile of the day crossed my face. Good. We could get this in motion. The frat party would serveas our introduction and we could move on with the rest of the schedule.

The smile disappeared when I registered exactly what she was wearing.

King’s jersey.

"Oh, shit," fell out of Adam’s mouth.

King looked back at me with a blank expression. He didn’t know anything about it. Of course he didn’t.Whydid that thought even cross my mind? And why was I trying not to grind my teeth to dust?

And then I saw the guy walk up to her with a drink in hand.

What the fuck?

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