Page 20 of The Wrong Quarterback

I pulled out my laptop, keeping my eyes glued to the screen…even though I didn’t have anything on it to look at. Somehow…I could still feel him staring, though, and every second made my skin tingle with a mixture of dread and anticipation and something I didn’t want to name.

The professor, a tall woman with sharp features, began talking, introducing herself as Professor Hendrick. “Welcome to History of the Roman Empire. If you’re here for an easy ride, you might as well leave now.” Her voice cut through the room, but I barely heard it. All I could feel was the weight of Parker’s gaze.

My pulse thudded in my chest, and it took everything I had to keep my breathing steady. A few other students had noticed, their eyes darting between us with interest, like there was something here they wanted to figure out. I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat and gripping my pen until my knuckles turned white.

I forced myself to listen to the professor, catching snippets of what she was saying about expectations and midterms. But even then, the awareness of him didn’t fade. It was like he’d put me in a spotlight, and I couldn’t escape it.

I snuck another glance up and found him still watching, his blue eyes locked on me like he was trying to read every thought in my head. My heart did a strange, heavy flip, and I looked away so fast my neck hurt.

The last two years had been lonely. That was the only thing that could explain how I was reacting to a stranger. None of myfriends had wanted to deal with the sad girl that had lost her brother. They hadn’t known how to talk to me about anything…and so they’d just stopped talking to me altogether.

My mother had been so trapped in her grief over the death of her favorite child that her other child…the one that was still living…disappeared in her mind. We passed each other like shadows in the night, and I could count the conversations that I’d had with her on one hand over the past two years.

And Gray…well, I’d lived for his text messages, but if I was honest with myself…they’d been few and far between.

That loneliness had to be the explanation for why I was feeling so crazy right now because of a stranger, albeit a hot stranger, eyeing me.

I just wasn’t used to it.

“Mr. Davis, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class as our teaching assistant?” the Professor suddenly said.

And that got my attention.

I peeked up once…only to lock eyes with him again…and I immediately resumed studying the pencil marks etched into the top of my desk.

Parker started talking…and although a lot less articulate than I would have thought he’d be as a guy who probably had to talk in front of crowds all the time…his voice…fuck. It was deep, rich, a perfect mix of confidence and something rougher that made the air seem heavier. The sound of it vibrated in a way that sank right into my chest, making me feel it more than just hear it. It wasn’t just a voice; it was a presence. Low, commanding, with a hint of rasp that made my pulse quicken and my skin flush hot.

His words seemed to brush over my skin and leave a trail of awareness in its wake, heat pooling low in my stomach like a slow burn. It was as if his voice reached across the space between us and pulled me in, locking me in place whether I wanted it or not.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I only caught a few things that Professor Hendrick said for the rest of class…which was definitely a problem since I was pretty sure she’d given us our first assignment at the end. All I knew was that the second she said the words “Class dismissed,” I was out of my seat, grabbing my bag and hustling down the row as I tried not to trip on everyone else who seemed in no hurry to get out of class.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t been stared at all class by the hottest man alive.

It made a difference when you were the one doing the staring, I supposed.

I had made it two steps out the door and had proudly kept my eyes to myself the entire time, when I heard that voice—calling “hey” behind me.

Even though it didn’t make sense. I knew Parker Davis was calling after…me.

I turned around…and it felt a little like my heart might be breaking. Because now that I’d seen him up close, how was anyone, for the rest of my life, supposed to compare?

His lashes were thick and dark, no doubt the envy of every woman who swooned over him. The light from the windows in this hallway was catching on the sharp line of his jaw, the little flecks of gold in those electric-blue eyes. He was devastating, magnetic…perfect. The rough shadow of stubble on his face, the way his lips tilted in a half-smile—it all sent a wave of heat through me that had me barely able to hold myself together.

“Hey,” he said, simple and casual, but his voice carried that same low hum, like it held secrets meant only for me.

It was really bad that Iwantedthose secrets.

“Um—hi?” I managed, the word coming out softer than I wanted…and confused. My throat felt tight, like it was suddenly hard to breathe.

His gaze lingered, eyes scanning my face like he was trying to memorize every detail. The world seemed to narrow to just us, the noise of shuffling students, and slamming doors fading away. I felt hyper aware of everything—of how close he was—and how he smelled, like clean, masculine energy…with a hint of something darker. Or the way his presence seemed to fill every inch of space between us.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, just in case my suddenly ridiculously hard nipples were poking through my bra and he could see.

“Did you need something?” I finally murmured, when we’d just been standing there gazing at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

He blinked, as if the sound of my voice had broken him out of a trance.

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