King of Campus

When I said I was only into hook ups, I wasn’t kidding. And I don’t ever make the mistake of bringing them back to my place either. Because I did that once and it took a hell of a long time to convince her that it was time to leave when we were finished knocking boots.

I huff out a relieved breath that we’re finally alone in my truck and away from Chad and all the other curious onlookers. Sometimes it really does feel like I’m a monkey at the zoo.

My eyes slide to Ivy only to find hers already settled on me as if she’s silently assessing me. She takes another long pull from her straw as she continues watching me. My eyes slip from hers to those ruby red lips sucking on the straw. My junk stirs again wondering what it would feel like to have her suck me with such single minded determination. Yeah… now probably isn’t the best time to be fantasizing about a blow job.

I’ll just save that for another time.

My eyes slice back up to hers as she says, “So… you play football, huh?”

I can’t help the surprised chuckle that escapes from my lips. As I laugh, a small smile curves her beautiful mouth upwards. “Yeah, a little bit, but I’m not very good.”

The smile grows, transforming her face until she’s probably the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And just like in the dance studio, when I’d been watching her soar across the room, the breath catches at the back of my throat. It’s such an odd and unexpected feeling.

“I kind of inferred that from the convo in the smoothie shop. It must suck riding the bench.”

I compress my lips together so I’ll stop smiling. But it’s not working. Clearing my throat, I finally say, “Yeah, it does. I’m really more of a glorified water boy than anything else.”

“Well, just keep working hard, I’m sure you’ll improve. With any luck, you could be Barnett’s very own Rudy.”

I almost start choking. It takes a moment before I’m able to say, “That’s some solid advice. Thanks.” Rudy… I freaking love that movie. I mean, who doesn’t? I eye her with just a little bit more appreciation for being able to work that cinematic gem into our conversation. And trust me, I’ve been seriously appreciating her ever since I first laid eyes on her this afternoon.

With the tension completely broken between us, I pick up my smoothie before taking a hearty pull from the straw. Even though Ivy and I have spoken a few times, it never occurred to me that she might have a sense of humor. She’s usually glaring way too much to let it show.

With curiosity filling her eyes, she finally asks, “Does that kind of thing happen often?”

She’s kidding right?

I shrug my shoulders. Over the years, I’ve grown used to the attention. Normally it doesn’t bother me at all. But then again, I’ve never had a girl at my side and our conversation totally hijacked either. This is actually the first time I’ve ever felt irritated that someone wanted to talk football with me.

“Often enough.”

She looks thoughtful. “And you don’t mind all the attention?”

Well, I never have before today…

“Not really. It’s just part of being a high profile athlete, I guess.” It’s always been like that. Even back in high school, I was getting noticed for my football playing abilities.

“It must be exhausting to be on like that all the time.”

Instead of replying to that comment, I take another long pull from my straw as her words roll around in my head.

Again I shrug my shoulders. It’s all just part of playing ball. Part of being good and having NFL scouts looking, talking, and making predictions about you. It’s what I’ve worked my entire life for. “It doesn’t bother me,” I say again almost as if I’m trying to convince myself instead of her.

Glancing away, she looks over at the smoothie shop across the street. “I think that would bother me. I like being anonymous.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been anonymous. Even back in high school I couldn’t go anywhere in town without people talking to me about football and college and my chances of turning pro.

Hell, Dylan told me a few weeks ago that there was a picture of me disappearing inside the men’s room posted on some stupid website.

Can you believe that shit?

Thank god whoever was snapping the photo didn’t actually follow me in.

Not wanting to discuss my pseudo-celebrity status any longer, I steer the conversation in another direction. “So we’ll head back to your place, you can change, pick up your computer and we can take off for the library.”

She takes one last pull from her straw, finishing off her pomegranate berry smoothie before agreeing with my plan. Again something stirs in my boxer briefs.