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No shot Gray was violent, was he?

“The guy could beat our asses on every standardized testandprobably ruin our lives if he wanted to,” Luke said.

“Gray isn’t going to ruin shit,” I said.

I hoped it was true.

I pulled out my phone again and saw another text.

Gray: You and Luke look cute together on the quad.

I pulled my head up, looking all around.

How the hell did he see me right now?

Gray wasn’t on any of the benches around here.

He wasn’t under a tree or walking across the quad, either.

Was he up in one of the buildings, looking down at us from the Physics hall or the library?

Andrew: Watching me?

Kind of my job.

If you’re that obsessed with my ass, you should have fucked it when you had the chance.

I’ll have the chance again. Not that I’ll be taking it.

Something’s wrong with you.

Trust me, Peach, I know.

After everything Luke just told me, his texts should have freaked me out. But I felt my cock stirring under my shorts and I walked a little wider, trying not to get an obvious erection in the middle of the quad.

One thing about being an out and proud gay football player was that I’d gotten used to a small amount of danger in my life.

Sometimes, idiots on the internet talked shit about me.

Sometimes they got personal.

I’d had death threats.

Weird, suspicious shit mailed to my name at the frat house.

There had even been some fake bomb threats called to my frat, and later on, we’d find anonymous posts on football forums online where people gloated about how funny it had been to see from the street.

Some people hated me, but I wasn’t going to let them stop me from being who I was.

And if Gray wanted to tail me, watching my every move?

Let him.

Fucking bring it on.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had denied me like he had the other night.

So close to fucking me, but not letting me have it.