Page 11 of Play It Off

We keep chatting, and I get her to share bits of information with me. She’s a nutrition major and agreed to cook the guys meals in order to save money on rent. I made sure they weren’t taking advantage of her because I don’t necessarily trust these guys, even my own brother. And then I proceed to warn her off Nico again and even Gavin.

I’ve got my own selfish motives to keep her away from Gavin. Like the fact that we’ve been doing this delicate dance with each other over the last couple of years where we pretend that moment in my dorm room never happened. I’ve never discussed it with anyone. Not a single soul. The only person who’s aware of that interaction is Destiny, and luckily she’s kept her mouth shut.

At the moment Nico is giving me grief about my red hair, which he hasn’t done for years, but really, I think he’s trying to catch Everleigh’s attention when the front door swings open and in walks my own personal nightmare.

Or absolute dream of a man. Take your pick.

Shouts of “QB!” fill the room, and Gavin stands there, looking pleased with himself. A proper reception for the king of the team, no doubt.

“There’s Gavin,” I whisper to Everleigh, who’s openly staring at him. I can’t fault her for it. He’s stupidly handsome.

One of the blondes Nico was chatting with earlier runs over to Gavin, then throws her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. I burn with jealousy, wishing I could do the same, but he would never allow it. He’s afraid of my brother, the rest of the team, and whoever else and what they might think of the two of us together.

The coward.

He sets the blonde away from him, his gaze going to mine, and I see the apology in his blue eyes. Or what I think might be an apology. Who knows? I can’t read this guy, and I’ve avoided him more than talked to him ever since our incident. But being the polite person that I am, I offer him a wan smile and wish I could disappear.

Instead, I just stand here and take it. Fighting my feelings for a man who struggles with knowing what he wants. Even though I’m standing in front of him, willing and able.

Seriously. Men are the worst.

Chapter FiveGavin

Football is my life. It keeps me going when times are tough, and the game exhilarates me like nothing else. I feel whole out on the field, playing with my teammates, guys I know and love and trust. We’re like family, and I count on them more than even my actual family, though that’s not saying much. I’m an only child and have a strained relationship with my parents. My dad has controlled me my entire life, and he hates that he can’t tell me what to do any longer, though he knows just what to say to get into my head and stay there.

The miserable son of a bitch still has the power to make my life a living hell. My mother does nothing to stop him either. She doesn’t say much at all. He keeps her under his thumb just like he’s done to me until I got into college. Escaping our house helped me breathe easier, but he still has the power to get into my mind and fuck with my self-esteem. I’ve gotten better at shutting him out over the years, but he still sneaks in here and there. And I hate it.

Otherwise, I’ve got my head on straight. My focus is 100 percent football. Okay, 95 percent football and 5 percent school. I want to play professionally. I’m a business major, but I chose that because it’s easy. I’m good at math—I’m interested in economics and all that shit—but that isn’t what I really want to do.

Football. That’s my plan. The NFL. I can see it in my dreams. Can practically taste it, I’m so close, but things could change. For all I know, we could have a shit season—

No. I can’t let any negative thoughts crowd my brain. I need to stay focused. Manifest that shit and make it happen.

But there’s only one distraction. One person I’d consider tossing everything aside for if we could guarantee we’d run away together and no one else would have to know. And it’s the statuesque redhead standing within ten feet of me, wearing a pair of denim cutoffs that are criminally short and a tank top that shows off the perfect curve of her amazing tits.

Sienna Cooper.

I grimace the moment I think of her last name because that’s what her older brother goes by. Everyone calls him Coop. Even his parents and sister. Hell, most of the time I don’t even remember what his first name is. Only when I see the official team roster do I ever recall.

She briefly glances in my direction, looking away the moment our gazes lock. I stare at her, those long legs and those damn denim shorts. All the memories come back when I see them. Of her draped over me and my hands all over her. Inside her. The scent of her pussy still lingers in my mind because I was a sick fuck who didn’t wash his hands for hours after our singular hot encounter.

The hottest moment of my life, and we didn’t even fuck. I figured I’d idealized the moment in my brain and I feel that way because we never did the actual deed. It could’ve been awful. She could’ve turned into a nightmare. A lousy fuck turned into an overpossessive woman who might try to control my life. I don’t need it.

Who am I kidding? I know Sienna well enough that I’m confident she wouldn’t act like that. I just tell myself those kinds of things to make me feel better.

But damn it, she haunts my dreams and makes me crazy with lust. I can’t remember the last time I fucked some random chick. It’s beenforever, and most of the time the ones I do choose don’t resemble her at all because I don’t want the reminder. And look, I have sex with other women on occasion while I assume she has sex with other men, because we’re not together. We never have been and most likely never will be. Pretty sure she’s still interested in me, though she always keeps her distance.

I’m interested in her too. It’s like I can’t help myself.

I come from a fucked-up family that Sienna doesn’t need to be subjected to. While she comes from a set of dream parents who are supportive and wonderful. They’re always there for their kids, while I’m over here still trying to get out from underneath my father’s thumb. His kind of attention isn’t what I want. Even my mom avoids him as much as possible, and she married the man.

“Who’s the chick with Sienna?” I ask Coop once he calls me over and hands me a beer. I settle into the couch next to him, not surprised at all when it’s our friend Frank Dollar who informs me who she is.

“Our new roommate, Everleigh,” he announces proudly.

Coop and I share a look, and I get what my friend is trying to tell me while not speaking a word. “You into her, Dollar?”

“Sort of.” Frank shrugs, trying to play it off while Coop coughs the wordbullshitinto his hand.

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