King of Campus

After five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Dylan starts yapping about something else entirely and because I don’t want there to be a problem between us, I let go of my anger. I mean, Dylan is probably right. My interest in Ivy has to be because no one ever turns me down. That’s probably why she’s been occupying so many of my thoughts. Maybe I just need to get laid and then everything else will fall neatly back into place and I can spend my time concentrating on football and classes and less time thinking about Ivy Kaster.

See?

This is exactly the problem with becoming involved with females. You spend way too much damn time thinking about things that aren’t important all the while losing sight of the goals you’ve set for yourself.

I can’t allow myself to lose focus.

Not when I have everything to lose.

Chapter Seventeen

Hmmm, is it just me or is our legendary wide receiver, Roan King, not spreading around the love like he used to? What’s up with that? All I know is that there are an awful lot of sexually deprived women out there clamoring for a little Roan King. If you’re reading this, RK, be a dear and give us what we want… KingOfCampus.com

Sipping our drinks, we slowly meander our way down the sidewalk of a local outdoor mall. Lexie has three bags in hand. I have zero. There are a few reasons for this. One- nothing interesting has caught my eye. And two- I don’t have the money to throw away on useless crap I really don’t need. Although my dad did shove a hundred dollars into my hand when Roan and I were leaving his house on Sunday. Feeling slightly stunned by the gesture, I tried giving it back but he wouldn’t take it. I figure I’ll sock it away in case of an emergency.

“Let’s stop in here.”

We walk into a lacy underwear store and right away she starts rifling through the racks. I have enough underwear, so I don’t bother looking for anything until a sexy little bra and panty set in pale pink lacy captures my attention.

Before I even realize it, I’m walking over to the rack and staring at it for a long minute. It’s seriously the most gorgeous little confection I’ve ever seen. Sheer and delicate are the best ways to describe the material. It would pretty much reveal just about everything but damn, you’d look hot wrapped up in it.

Lexie sidles up beside me. “Oh, you definitely have to try that on.”

Almost immediately I start shaking my head. I mean, it’s not like I have anyone to wear it for...

As much as I try keeping his gorgeous face from materializing in my head, it does. I have the feeling that Roan King will be the death of me.

“Why not?” Lexie pulls the set off the hook before inspecting it more closely. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

I cock an eyebrow grasping desperately at any straw that will get me out of this. “Trying on something that will only emphasis the fact that I have zero curves for it to cling to isn’t my idea of fun.” I throw my arms up before glancing down at my body. Like I said before, I’m fine with not having a curvy little body but having to look at myself in something that’s supposed to showcase that nonexistent form will only drive home the point.

And do I really need that?

Nope, I don’t.

Lexie has about four different bras in her hand. And I would bet money they’re all D cups. That girl has curves galore. She looks like a sex bomb just waiting to go off and she’s extremely good at playing up her finer assets. That’s one reason she’s so driven to go into fashion design. There are so many styles out there for women who are slender. If you’re tall and thin, you can pretty much wear anything and look fabulous doing it. But what if you’re shorter with a lot of curves? What then? Lexie has actually designed a few outfits for herself and I can’t believe just how flattering and professional they look.

She checks the size before shoving it at my chest. “This should fit you perfectly.” Then she herds me towards a narrow hallway. Because I know when to pick my battles, I allow Lexie to corral me into a fitting room. She disappears into the one right next to mine.

“Don’t think I’ll be showing you what this looks like,” I grumble under my breath. Not that I’m shy about my body, because I’m not. I’ve spent my entire life working out religiously in a dance studio. Every line and muscle has been elongated and perfectly sculpted. Plus, I’m always wearing tight leotards that are made of body hugging Lycra. I’ve also had my fair share of seamstresses run their hands over me, taking measurements. Not to mention changing costumes in front of other dancers. When you dance, that’s just the way it is. After a while, you stop being self-conscious.