Umm… right.
I think this girl wants to do more than just run into him. What she's describing is borderline stalking. I can't believe she's actually admitting it to a virtual stranger. How embarrassing. Of course, that thought naturally leads me to wonder if she's merely fucking with me because he's not a freaking celebrity.
He's just some college athlete.
Albeit a really hot college athlete.
With my eyes narrowed in skepticism, I ask, "And this is all because he plays football?" I'm actually having a really hard time wrapping my mind around this. And I certainly haven't ruled out the whole- I'm-being-fucked-with scenario either.
Giving me that- do-you-live-under-a-rock look again, she shakes her head, "No, he doesn't just play football, he is football here at Barnett. Like I said before, he's entering the draft in January. And well... just look at him." She flicks her hand in his direction. "He's the hottest guy on campus. Roan King is going places and everyone is interested in where those places are."
With that she swivels in her seat so that she’s fully turned towards the professor. And Roan King.
For the next thirty-five minutes I do my best to focus on what Dr. Paulson is discussing, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that my eyes keep straying across the room to rest on Barnett’s legendary football star. Every time I catch myself staring at those wide shoulders, bulging t-shirt clad biceps, and inky black hair, I have to mentally chastise myself before refocusing my distracted attention. After the seventh time, I'm more than a little irritated with myself for acting like the rest of these silly little twits who are practically drooling all over their desks.
Even though I was here for my freshman year, I don't recall hearing anything about Roan King. Instead of paying attention to Dr. Paulson as she outlines what we'll be learning this semester, I'm too busy racking my brain trying to remember any little tidbit of information about this guy.
But I keep drawing blanks.
Which shouldn't surprise me because I've never really cared for football. I know absolutely zero about it. And furthermore, I have no interest in learning anything about it either. When forced to attend high school homecoming games with Lexie, I distinctly remember being bored off my ass.
My eyes narrow as I continue contemplating him.
I'd hazard a guess to say there's not much going on beneath all that gorgeousness. And if our professor is any indication, he's probably been coasting through the last three years of college on his hotness and football playing skills.
That is if playing football can actually be considered a skill...
Because every time I've been forced to watch a game, the guys on the field don't seem to do anything more than run around throwing some oblong shaped ball to each other. And the game is constantly being stopped which only makes it even more mind numbing. Like they're deliberately trying to torture all the fans that have filled the stands.
Seriously, how much skill can something like that possibly take? It's not like executing a perfect pirouette or adage or ballonne pas, for goodness sake. That takes years of relentless practice and dedication.
So even though I don't know Roan King personally, he's obviously someone to steer clear of. And not that Mr. Football has any interest in me whatsoever, but after what happened with Finn last year, I have zero interest in getting tangled up with another jerk.
I mean jock.
Especially some football playing Neanderthal who obviously thinks he's god's gift to the female population of Barnett University.
Ugh.
Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass.
Sneak Peek
Confessions of a Heartbreaker
Now Available
Chapter One
"Yo, Parker, where you'd disappear to, dude?"
I hear Max holler at me from outside on the darkened patio. There's a sly smile plastered across his face because he knows exactly what I've been up to. And who I've been up to it with...
Shaking my head, I flash him a shit eating grin but don't say a word. Natalie Cosgrove is all snuggled up against the side of me. My arm is casually slung over her shoulders as we make our way through the thick crowd of juniors and seniors to the keg in the backyard. Being the gentleman that I am, I top off Natalie's cup before filling my own.
Just as we're about to join Max and a few of the other guys from the football team, I pause turning towards Natalie. Without warning, I lean down before giving her a long deep kiss on her soft lips. She stares up at me with a flushed face and satisfied eyes.
Don't ever let it be said that I don't aim to please...
"That was pretty damn awesome," I murmur. My fingers gently stroke the side of her face. It's a practiced move. I'm gearing up to send Natalie on her merry little way.
She blushes, her lips bowing up at the corners. "It was, Parker."
Her hot pink colored talons trail lightly over the t-shirt stretched across my chest. They linger for a moment or two as she turns her big baby blue eyes up at me. She has great eyes. Actually, Natalie has a great everything.
"Maybe later we can meet up again." Her eyelashes flutter against the paleness of her cheeks before her eyes lift to mine.
That's one of the things I like about Natalie. She's subtle, not pushy. I’m definitely not into pushy chicks.
But still...
I smile even though I'm not totally feeling what she's putting out there. "Yeah, maybe, we'll see." I glance over at my teammates suddenly feeling impatient to join them... sans Natalie. "Listen, babe, I'm going to hang with the guys for a while." Before she can think of a way to detain me, I smack a quick kiss on her full lips and take off.
As I weave my way through the crowd, I take a great big gulp of beer in relief. Damn but that feels good going down.
Max turns just as I approach. His eyes trail behind me before slowly traveling up and down Natalie's hot little body. His perusal doesn't bother me. I mean it's not like we're together or anything like that. Anyway, Max enjoys living vicariously through me. He just has to do it when Emily's not around because if she ever caught him looking at another girl, she'd more than likely saw off his balls with a rusty blade before ramming them straight down his throat. And that’s the nice version of what she’d do.
"Damn, that girl is fine."
I glance over Max's shoulder before giving a subtle little cough. "Oh- hi, Emily."
Eyes wide, mouth gaping open like a fish, Max spins around.
Only to find open space.
I can't help but laugh because the look on his face is completely priceless.
"You're such an ass, Montgomery." Without any warning, he jabs me in the ribs with his elbow.
That only makes me laugh harder. "Yeah, I know but I'm okay with that."
He glances around covertly, probably trying to locate his disturbed sidekick, before muttering under his breath, "You know Em would kill me if she ever heard me talking about Natalie."
I nod sagely, taking another swallow of beer. "And that would be the reason your expression was so freaking comical."
Max shakes his head before his eyes once again land on Natalie. "You really are an ass."
Apparently he's not quite done gawking and talking about Natalie’s finer qualities. Which is funny because I'm completely done talking about her. Tipping his beer back, he takes a nice long swig before saying, "Not sure why you aren't tapping that on a regular basis."
"Because regular basis equates to girlfriend and I don't do those."
Max rolls his eyes. He doesn't understand why I'm so adamantly against having a girlfriend. I can't decide if it's because he legitimately enjoys being in a committed relationship and therefore wants me to experience the same joy as well. Or if misery loves company and he's just looking for someone to keep him company. I'm leaning towards the misery-loves-company explanation because Max and Emily are totally psycho crazy together. His on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again carousel of a relationship is enough to put anyone off having a g
irlfriend.
For like ever.
Those two are constantly fighting and making up. I never know from one day to the next if they're together or not.
Who needs, or better yet, wants all that drama?
I sure as hell don't.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret I've discovered about the girls at this school- they genuinely seem to thrive on all the gossip, he-said-she-said BS, constant backstabbing, and petty arguments. Oh, and then there's my personal favorite- defriending. Actually, I've met girls from other schools and they're just as bad. So, yeah, I'm definitely not into having one of those for my very own.
Thanks, but no thanks.
I glance over my shoulder as I take another giant gulp of beer. Natalie has found her way over to a large group of scantily clad giggling girls.
I’ll be honest, I don't get it. It's October and it's pretty damn cold. They can't possibly be warm standing around outside like that.
For just a moment, I study them en masse. Sometimes it feels like I'm an anthropologist observing the social interactions of some strange primitive culture. If you watch carefully enough, you'll start to understand the social hierarchy and intricate dynamics of the group. It doesn't take long to figure out who the highest and lowest ranking members are. And then they all stand around flipping their hair, rolling their eyes, and laughing obnoxiously.
Through careful observations, I've come to realize that this is an attempt to gain attention from the male species that surround them. The only thing worse than that is when they start drinking, get all sad bastard, and then proceed to bawl their eyes out because the guy they're crushing on this week doesn't return their ardent affection.
Now don't get me wrong, I love the ladies. I really do, I just don't have much use for all the crap that comes with them. Outside of the physical, I find them completely exhausting.
Natalie must sense my gaze because she suddenly turns, glancing in our direction. Ignoring Max (as is standard operating procedure for most girls he knows), she meets my eyes before giving me a coy little smile and wave. My lips lift in return before I salute her with my red plastic cup.
See? No fuss, no muss. No misplaced expectations or demands. And that, my friends, is why Natalie pretty much tops my go-to list.
"Yep, she's cool."
Which is exactly why this relationship works out so well between us. I have zero interest in being tied down. And Natalie knows better than to bring it up. Once I catch even a whiff of - "Parker, I want us to be exclusive" I cut them loose. I have way too much going on with football and lacrosse for that shit. Not to mention school.
Ugh.
The mere thought of school has me draining the rest of my cup in one thirsty gulp. But tonight is Friday night. And we just pummeled Kennsington, spanking their asses good. And I've just spent a little time with Natalie Cosgrove who has once again proven (with flying colors, I might add) why she's my number one girl. Life is pretty good and I'm not about to let thoughts of school kill the nice buzz I'm working towards.
I hold up my plastic cup to the group at large. "Going for a refill."
Max joins Adam and Will's conversation as they discuss the football game blow by blow. Actually, it was a pretty sweet game. Coming off a win always feels amazing.
I'm just turning away from the keg with a full cup of golden deliciousness when some chick literally crashes into my side. I hear her small cry of surprise which quickly morphs into displeasure as half my beer spills down the front of her. Because her head is tilted downward, I'm not able to see her face. Only the long blonde hair that cascades over it. Gingerly she touches the now soaked fabric, holding it away from her flesh as it continues to drip onto the ground between us.
Acting on instinct, I snatch the towel that's lying next to the keg and immediately start mopping the front of her sweater. The moment my hand makes contact, her head whips up just before her eyes skewer mine with a death glare that almost shrivels my balls.
Almost.
Luckily for me I'm made of sterner stuff than that.
"Please stop, you've caused enough damage already."
Amused by the attitude rolling off her in thick heavy waves, I tilt my head just a bit as my hand falls slowly back to my side. "What happened was an accident. And for the record, it was you who slammed into me. Not the other way around."
Her mouth drops open as her eyes widen. "Are you being serious right now?"
Hmmm, her eyes are really kind of amazing. Mossy green. With hints or flecks of gold dancing around within them. I step just a bit closer wanting a better look. She cranes her neck as I purposely invade her space. She can't be more than five foot three at the most. I bet I have a good seven inches on her.
Instead of backing up like I expect her to do, she stands her ground before adding, "I didn't slam into you and if that was your lame attempt at an apology, it really sucked."
I can't help the slow smile that spreads its way across my face because this party just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
Chapter Two
I don't know who this chick is, but she's totally spunky for someone so tiny. And I have to admit that I’m kind of liking it. I can't help but warm to this little back and forth we suddenly have going on here.
Does that make me perverse?
Because I kind of think it does.
"Why would I apologize when you’re the one who slammed into me? Maybe you should be apologizing to me right now."
"Are you out of your mind?" As she holds up the bottom of her dripping sweater, I’m just able to make out the barest hint of smooth flat belly above the waistband of her low rise jeans. I can't help but find myself intrigued by that little strip of alabaster flesh. "Do you see this? This is your beer all over my favorite sweater. I love this sweater and now it's probably ruined." She wrinkles her nose in the cutest way. "And that smell is never going to come out."
I want to grin but I suspect that will only piss her off more. So I do my best to rein it in before saying, "Look, it's just beer. I promise, it'll come out. Just soak it in some Woolite when you get home tonight, it'll be fine."
She arches a brow. "And you know this how?"
"Um, because girls are like always spilling their beer on me." Rolling my eyes, I give her my best drama queen voice. "I can't even tell you how many times some rude chick has ruined one of my favorite sweaters."
Now this is the part where she's supposed to chuckle or crack a smile or something. Something to show that she's not totally immune to me. Or my charismatic charm. Or my handsome good looks. Instead, she just levels a hard, uncomfortable stare at me.
Yeah, this is definitely starting to feel awkward.
There is absolutely no change in her facial expression (not even a twitch) which has me feeling like a real dumbass right about now. And I'll be honest with you, I'm not used to feeling like that when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex. "Wow, really? Nothing? You're one tough crowd."
"It's almost difficult to believe that your sad attempt at a joke was even lamer than your apology... but it was.”
Ouch.
Feeling like I'm on strangely shaky ground, I hold out the towel as a peace offering. She yanks it quickly from my hand before staring down at what I now understand to be her favorite sweater.
"It's everywhere." A soft puff of air leaves her lips as if she's at a loss. "I don't even know where to begin."
Okay, so here's what happens next- and yeah... it's not good. And by not good, I actually mean terrible. Before I can stop myself, I’m plucking the towel out of her hand before going to town on the wet material now pressed up against her delectable little body.
Now, if I’d thought she was frowning before… well, I was wrong.
And I mean really wrong because in the moment that it takes for my hand to breech her no fly zone, her lips sink even further into what I can only describe as an angry slash as she silently watches me from eyes so narrowed, they're practically slits.
&
nbsp; "I'm starting to think you purposefully spilled that beer just so you could cop a cheap feel."
I snort.
Well, I guess I am technically copping a feel. But anything I'm actually feeling is minimal at best. She certainly can't compete with Natalie in the tits department. For some bizarre reason I feel the need to throw this girl off her game, just like she's inexplicably done to me. Even though I know it's a completely jerky thing to do, I give her chest a long leering look. I even squint for good measure, before dragging my eyes back up to hers.
There. Now that ought to be enough to shut her down.
Most chicks hate to have their breasts ogled, which is actually kind of laughable. Not to mention confusing, because they're the first ones to wear the tiniest, tightest scrapes of fabric they can find in their closet and call it a shirt. Then they have the audacity to get mad when we gawk.
Word to the wise- if you're going to stare at a girl's boobs, do it covertly. Otherwise it's sexual harassment.
I don’t quite know what's gotten into me but I don't like that this girl’s not responding the way females usually do when they’re around me. So, I add the kicker. "There's not exactly a lot to cop, if you know what I mean."
Looking completely unaffected by everything that has just occurred, she glances down at her own chest and contemplates it for a long moment. "Yep, I'm aware of the boob situation going on but thanks for pointing it out to me, Parker, or should I just call you- Captain Obvious?"
That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was going for.
Seriously, who is this girl?
I need to decide quickly how I'm going to play this situation.
And her.
Unfortunately I'm drawing blanks right now. It's like my brain has gone on a temporary hiatus. I’m going to be completely honest with you, usually my interactions with the females are light and teasingly easy. I'm full of compliments with a few lingering touches thrown in for good measure. And most importantly, I'm the one in control of the conversation. I'm the one who decides how the situation will unfold.
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