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“Yeah. Tulsewicz. All-American running back, quit his junior year for reasons unknown to anyone but him.”

“Not exactly,” Schultz replies. “I played with him my freshman year. Incredible player, obviously. Loved the game, had thoughts of going pro. Been with his girl since middle school. Loved her more than the game. Coach tried coming between them, set him up to get caught with some sorority chicks. Tully flipped shit and his girl caught him screaming and yelling at the chicks, then taking her by the hand and leading her to coach’s fucking front door. Told him to fuck off and he’d see him in court. The school settled privately since it wasn’t really a legal issue, and Tully went back home to his hometown. Get a Christmas card from him every year. Married that girl and they have an adorable little girl and he’s an independent scout for college athletes. He isn’t the first Coach has done this to.”

Staunton raises his hand. “I’m sorry, that sucks, but are we gonna talk about how he saidwomanly woman?”

“He likes ‘em real thick and juicy—”

“Keep quoting that song and find out what my fist tastes like.”

“He tastes like artificial turf.”I crack a smile at Gill’s Forrest Gump impression. An image of Phia pops into my head and that smile dies a quick death. I can’t let her get involved in Coach’s games. That conversation we just had in his office sits heavy, like a ball of lead in my gut. He isn’t gonna let this go. The more players he has go pro from his team, the more attention he receives, the more leverage he has with the board and his contract, the bigger that man’s ego gets.

“So, what do I do?” I’m open to suggestions. I’ll do anything to keep Phia safe, including quit the team. I just don’t want it tocome to that given I receive a substantial athletic scholarship, and I have one more semester to go until graduation.

The guys crowd around me, and several others have joined us. Duffy shrugs casually. “Depends how serious you are about her.”

She and I had lunch again Tuesday at one of the campus dining halls. Granted, I haven’t spent a great deal of time talking to most of the women I’ve spent time with, but I know I’ve never had a connection with any of them like I do with Phia. It astounds me how easy it is to talk to her, about anything, with our clothes on. It’s a novel idea. We’ve spoken every night on the phone, text throughout the day. No sexting or phone sex, but I was joking when I suggested it. Mostly. She isn’t someone you rush along; you take your time with her, savor her, revel in each and every little part of herself she shares with you.

Besides, for all her bluster and bravado, she’s quite shy when it comes to physical contact. Blushing whenever I hold her hand, nearly hyperventilating when I kiss her. When she’s ready, I just need to get her alone in person and out of her head…preferably with my tongue between her thick thighs.

“I’d choose her.” I finally answer. “Every time.” It’s new, but that doesn’t make it less true. Doesn’t mean that every atom in my body isn’t in tune with her. Doesn’t mean that every time I look into her eyes, or hear her soft sigh, or touch her smooth skin that I don’t see my every tomorrow laid out before me. With her. Next to her. Behind her. On top of her…sorry, got sidetracked.

Hmm. I’m wondering if I should be more concerned about my obsession with her. Something to think about another time.

“Ain’t much you can do, dude. Be vigilant, record him, watch her.” I nod in understanding as Duffy lays it out.

“He means watch more than just her ass or tits.” On instinct, I throw my elbow back into Staunton’s stomach.

“Dude.” Gill shakes his head at him as he wheezes bent over. “Don’t talk about her…physical attributes, it makes Prib twitchy.”

Staunton raises a hand up, still struggling to catch his breath. “Noted.”

The alarm on my phone beeps. “Shit. I’m gonna be late for dinner.”

“Say hi to the missus for us!” The guys slap my back as I pass, my bag thrown over my shoulder, my shoes untied. I manage to flip them off on my way out.

Phia 7.

He smells good. Really, really good. I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest, practically in his armpit, my attention not on the television, but on the man beside me. Weird to think it’s only been a few weeks since we met. Everything with us, once I removed my head from my ass and moved out of the land of stereotypes, is so natural. Easy. Healthy.

We talk all the time, phone or text messages. See each other several days a week outside of football practice and games. He was in a bad mood yesterday after practice when he met me for dinner, but it didn’t take long for him to shake it off. He said coach is doubling down on his assholery and promptly changed the subject. We made out against the wall in the hallway of my apartment building for like a half hour before he ushered me in and said goodnight. I wanted him to come inside so bad. I wanted to kiss him with our clothes off. He had an early class, and I had a meeting with my thesis advisor first thing this morning.

And now, a Friday night, the night before a game, we’re cuddling on his couch instead of trolling the campus for parties. He’s not at all what I imagined when I first met him. And that’s on me. I judged him too quickly.

A door opens and one of his quadmates walks into the common space in just his boxers. Just past the couch, he lets one rip, and Iwatch in shock when he scratches his balls on the way into their kitchenette. He grabs a drink from the fridge, cracks it open and guzzles it down. As he walks past us back to his room, he belches with a boyish giggle. Once his door is firmly closed again, I arch my neck to stare up at Crue, who is losing the battle against his laughter.

Boys are gross.

“Why are we here?” Crue’s perfect lips stretch into a smirk.

“In general or in this room?”

I roll my eyes at him and answer, “This room.” He shares a quad with three other roommates. They have their own bedroom, two bathrooms, a shared kitchenette, and living room. It’s surprisingly nice, given that four male athletes live here. Doesn’t smell bad, though, I can’t smell much other than Crue. His scent, his warmth, the feel of his muscles and soft skin…not much else exists for me when we’re together.

He smiles, and my eyes dart to the chipped front tooth I find so cute. “That’s easy; if we went back to your place, where we would be alone, I’m afraid I would have stripped you bare and feasted on your pussy until you couldn’t walk and my tongue cramped.” My core spasms at the image he creates with just his words. Nipples hard peaks desperate for his touch.

“That’s…why aren’t we doing that?” I don’t recognize my own voice, all husky and laced with desire. I snarl and snap my teeth when he taps the tip of my nose. He opens his mouth to offer a ridiculous retort, but his phone beeps with an incoming text message. He frowns, grabs his phone from the arm of the couch and stares at it. The longer he stares, the deeper his frown gets.

“Babe?” His eyes snap to mine and his lips tip up in a broad grin.

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