Campus Player

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Now it’s a matter of pulling the plug.

  Ugh. I hate breakups. Although, it’s doubtful this will end up destroying him. I’ll have to make it through tonight and figure out the rest.

  With a sigh of resignation, I head to the classroom and find a seat tucked away in the far corner of the small lecture hall. A lanky guy I recognize from a few of my other classes settles beside me. He flashes a dimpled smile as we empty our backpacks.

  The tiny hair at the nape of my neck rises seconds before Rowan enters the room. It’s like my body knows when he’s within a thirty-foot radius. I glance at him from beneath the thick fringe of my lashes before shifting away. Air becomes wedged in my lungs as I wait for him to take a seat. And it won’t be next to me because I’m—

  “Hey man, would you mind moving?”

  Surrounded on both sides.

  Damnit. I’m hoping the cutie next to me will tell Rowan to go take a flying leap.

  What? It could happen. Not everyone at this university is enamored of the football-playing god. Although I realize the odds aren’t stacked in my favor. Rowan is the most recognized athlete on campus. People fall all over themselves to accommodate him.

  It’s a little sickening.

  Okay, maybe more than a little.

  “Sure, no problem, Michaels.” The guy next to me hastily packs up his books before vacating the desk. Unable to ignore him any longer, I glare as Rowan slides onto the seat next to me.

  “Did you really think you could evade me that easily?” Laughter brims in his deep voice. A voice, I might add, that does funny things to my insides.

  “One can always hope, right?”

  “Oh, answering a question with a question.” He leans closer, eating up some of the much-needed distance between us. “I like it.”

  I roll my eyes as his lips stretch into a satisfied grin. Irritation bubbles up inside me when sexual tension blooms at the bottom of my belly. Or maybe that tension has settled a little lower.

  It’s definitely lower.

  I’m tempted to swear like a sailor. How is it possible that I feel nothing for the guy I’m actually dating, and yet my pulse skitters out of control for someone I don’t even like? It’s so freaking ironic. It’s been this way since we met, and nothing I do stomps it out. I can try to fool myself into believing it’s not there, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

  It’s a relief when Professor Peters takes his place at the podium and clears his throat. Once he’s captured everyone’s attention, he delves headfirst into the probability of dependent and independent events.

  Grateful for the excuse to ignore Rowan for the next fifty minutes, I open my textbook and concentrate on the lesson. Just as the blond boy fades into the background, his bare knee bumps into mine. Electricity ricochets through my entire being. I glance at him to see if he’s noticed the strange energy we always seem to generate and find his ocean-colored gaze fastened to mine.

  My guess is that he does.

  Damnation.

  2

  Demi

  “All right, folks, I think I’ve imparted enough information on you for one morning. I can see that your brains are on the verge of exploding. Please remember that today’s assignment needs to be turned in online by midnight. Late work will be downgraded fifty percent.”

  A chorus of grumbles and groans follow that announcement.

  Professor Peters lips twitch in amusement. It’s no secret that he doesn’t give a damn whether students pass or fail this course. Statistics is a requirement for all health science degrees. If you don’t understand the material and refuse to seek out help, you’re screwed and doomed to repeat it. Over and over and over again. And Professor P is the only instructor who teaches this specific course.

  I’ve heard tales of students having to retake his class three or four times to eke out a passing grade. That would be seriously soul-sucking. Luckily, I’ve always been advanced in mathematics and took statistics in high school. So far, we’re a couple of weeks in, and I haven’t found this class to be a challenge. I’ve got an A.

  By the time Professor Peters dismisses us for the day, I’ve packed up my belongings and am ready to bolt from the room. I need to escape from Rowan’s presence. I was ridiculously aware of him the entire period.

  What makes no sense is that there’s a group of girls in this class who constantly fight for his attention. If the guy is looking to get laid, he needs to explore other options. Instead, he ignores them and sits next to me every day.

  It’s maddening.

  Without a word, I haul my backpack onto my shoulder and wiggle past him. As I make it to the aisle, a puff of relief escapes from my lungs, and I take the carpeted staircase two at a time. A few people say hello as I fly through the double doors and into the already crowded hallway. The more space I’m able to put between myself and Rowan, the sooner I can find my equilibrium. Rowan Michaels has the nasty habit of throwing it off every single time. I’m unwilling to examine the reason for that.

  The guy is totally annoying.

  Case closed.

  Midway down the corridor, my shoulders loosen from around my ears. The rest of the day should run smoothly from here on out. As soon as that thought pops into my head, a muscular arm is thrown around my shoulders, and I’m hauled against a hard body. A clean fresh scent, which is a strange concoction of sunshine and the ocean, is a dead giveaway as to who has a firm hold on me. It’s one that is purely Rowan Michaels.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  Damn.

  This guy will seriously be the death of me. Just like he taunted an hour earlier, I should have realized he wouldn’t let me escape that easily.

  “Hey, you took off before I could ask if you needed a ride to dinner.”

  A kernel of dread fills my belly and I’m not sure why. It’s not like we’re going out, and we’re certainly not friends. Not really. I can barely tolerate the guy. So, what does it matter if I tell him about Justin joining our threesome tonight?

  I wince. That just sounded plain wrong.

  I suck my lower lip into my mouth and gnaw on it. Rowan is going to find out sooner or later, so what does it matter if it turns out to be sooner? Already I know that he won’t be thrilled with the slight deviation from our normally set plans.

  “That’s not necessary.” I clear my throat and brace myself for his reaction. “Justin is going to pick me up.”

  Uncomfortable silence rains down on us as he digests that bit of news. It goes over exactly the way I suspected.

  Like a lead balloon.

  “Wait a minute,” the smile disappears only to be replaced by a scowl, “you invited Justin to dinner?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, unwilling to add that it’s an offer I now regret, “I did.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Good question. Clearly it was an error in judgment on my part. But I won’t be admitting that to Rowan.

  “He hasn’t met Dad yet.” The thought of that occurring makes me queasy. My father has the tendency to go into over-protective mode, which is precisely why he isn’t introduced to most of the guys I go out with.

  Now I’m having second thoughts.

  More like third and fourth thoughts.

  Unfortunately, the wheels have already been set in motion, and it’s too late to cancel our plans.

  “So...this thing between you two is pretty serious?” He sounds decidedly unhappy about the predicament.

  I remain silent, reluctant to confess the truth. It’s none of Rowan’s business who I date. Just like it’s none of mine who he bangs. In the three years we’ve been at Western, not once have I heard of Rowan settling down with a girl. But I’ve heard a shit ton of gossip regarding his sexual conquests. Every Monday morning, there’s a new set of salacious stories floating around campus.

  That thought makes me as nauseous as introducing Justin to Dad. Maybe a little more.

  Needing to distance myself from Rowan, I shrug in hopes of dislodgi
ng his arm. It doesn’t work. If anything, he only tightens his hold. Most girls would be thrilled by his attention. They would be burrowing against the solid strength of his chest. Admittedly, I have to fight my own body’s natural inclination to do exactly that.

  He turns his face until his warm breath can feather across the delicate shell of my ear. I have to steel myself against the shivers that attempt to skitter down my spine. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “I guess so.” That’s a lie, but since he can’t prove otherwise, I’m sticking to it like my life depends on it. More like my mental state.

  “Hmmm. That didn’t sound very convincing.” His grip intensifies. “Want to give it another shot?”

  I swivel toward him, not realizing how close we are. It doesn’t take much to get lost in the various shades of blue that dance in his irises.

  Rowan has gorgeous eyes.

  It’s one of the first features that snagged my attention. They’re so watchful. As if he sees everything going on around him and there’s no hiding. It’s the directness of his examination that makes my insides tremble. I don’t want him to catch a glimpse of the feelings I’ve buried deep within. I don’t want him to realize how much he affects me. Or how much willpower it takes to fight the magnetic pull I feel toward him.

  As we reach the glass doors that lead into the fresh air, Rowan pushes it open before we move down the short stone staircase. We don’t make it more than four steps before he’s swarmed by a handful of girls. As the crowd surges around him, I slip from beneath his arm and hightail it down the pathway that winds through campus.

  “Demi,” his deep voice resonates over the chatter of voices.

  Unable to stop myself, I glance back until our gazes collide. A surge of unwanted jealousy gnaws at my insides as jersey chasers paw at him like he’s a piece of fresh meat thrown into a den of starving lions. It’s equal measures aggravating and disturbing that he’s the only one able to make my pulse race in this manner. This campus has tens of thousands of people on it. There has to be at least one other guy who can provoke the same kind of reaction from me.

  I just need to find him. Then I can stop thinking about the blond quarterback.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  I gulp.

  Why does that sound more like a threat than anything else?

  Not bothering to answer, I force my gaze away before fleeing from the vicinity like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels. It’s only when I’m a block away that I’m able to once again find my equilibrium. The only way I’ll make it through the rest of the day is to force all thoughts of Rowan from my head.

  Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done.

  3

  Demi

  A couple of hours later, I shove the key in the lock and push open the apartment door. Even before it swings wide, loud voices assult my ears. Honestly, if I didn’t need to stop at home before practice, I would carefully back away.

  “That’s not what I said,” Ethan grumbles. “You’re putting words in my mouth again.”

  “Ha!” Sydney snaps. “Do you think I’m deaf?”

  Uh-oh.

  If Ethan has any sense, he’ll proceed with extreme caution when answering that question. Kind of like a bomb tech handling explosives that could detonate at any second.

  Ugh. My guess is that Ethan and Sydney are at it again. They’ve only been dating for four months, and I’ve already lost track of how many times they’ve broken up and gotten back together again. I was over their drama after the first few times it happened. It’s a vicious cycle that neither seem willing to pull the trigger on. Hell, I’d be more than happy to end it for them if they’d let me. They need to go their separate ways and never look in each other’s direction again.

  Individually, they’re both great people. I love them.

  As a couple?

  They are a total nightmare.

  “You know what? Forget this,” Ethan yells, not bothering to answer her question which is probably the shrewdest move he could make. “I’m out of here! Call me when you calm down, and we’re able to have a civil conversation!”

  I peek around the doorframe before reluctantly inching my way inside. I’m just in time to see Sydney rear back as if she’s been slapped.

  Her fists settle on her hips. “Excuse me? Are you implying I can’t hold a civil conversation?” From where I loiter in the tiny entryway, I’m able to see the sparks of anger that flash in her vibrant, grass-colored eyes.

  The last thing I want is to be pulled into another one of their arguments. Been there, done that way too many times to count.

  Ethan plows a hand through his short blond hair before his shoulders slump. “I’m gonna go. We’ll talk later when we’ve both calmed down.”

  Instead of waiting for a response, he stalks toward the door, passing me on the way out. I give him a tentative smile in greeting.

  “Hey, Demi,” he mumbles before closing the door behind him.

  “Bye.” By the time I raise my hand to wave, he’s gone, already disappearing into the hallway. I turn toward my friend. “Um—”

  “Yes, we broke up,” she snaps before I can ask.

  “I’m sorry?” It’s more of a question at this point. From one day to the next, I’m never sure if these two are a couple or not. It’s exhausting, and it’s not even my relationship. I’m a spectator—or maybe hostage would be a more accurate term—sitting on the sidelines, trying not to be hit by friendly fire.

  My bestie rolls her eyes before throwing herself onto the couch in our living room. “I think we’re really over this time.”

  Sure...whatever you say, crazy.

  Sydney says this every time they have a fight. After a few days of separation, they somehow find their way back to one another. Kind of like a guard and an escaped prisoner with a tracking device. It’s maddening. They can’t be together, and yet, they can’t be apart. I have no idea what they’ll do, and I’ve stopped doling out unsolicited advice that goes unheeded.

  I’ve come to the disturbing conclusion that the two of them are gluttons for punishment.

  How else do you explain the constant drama?

  “What happened this time?” The question pops out of my mouth before I can rein it in again. My backpack is set on the table before I plop down on the chair and settle in across from her. We’ve got roughly thirty minutes before practice. Their fight probably lasted ten minutes tops, but the dissection of it will take four times that long.

  Sydney wrinkles her nose as she squints at the ceiling. “You know what? I don’t even remember what started it.”

  Not surprising.

  “I just know he doesn’t get me,” she continues.

  “Then maybe this breakup is for the best,” I say gently, hoping the remainder of senior year doesn’t follow the same pattern that has already been set. If so, I might end up moving home, and I really don’t want to do that. As much as I love my dad, we need our own space.

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” Sydney rolls onto her belly and rests her chin on clasped hands before waggling her brows at me. “So...dinner with daddy tonight, huh?”

  “Ewww!” I scrunch my face at her wordage. “That’s gross. Rephrase, please.”

  “What’s wrong?” She grins as her shoulders shake with unconcealed mirth. “You didn’t like that?”

  “God, no. In fact, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.” I’m not kidding either. Every once in a while, Sydney likes to torment me by talking about how good looking my father is. When that happens, I go into self-protective mode and tune out the conversation. I suspect she does it more to rile me up than anything else. At least, I hope that’s the reason.

  “I can’t believe you’re bringing Justin to dinner. It hasn’t even been that long. I can’t remember the last guy you brought home to meet Coach.” She eyes me speculatively. “You must really like him.”

  I bite my lower lip and shake my head.

  Her brows skyrocket. “Ser
iously?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t understand.” She pauses for a beat. “Why did you invite him to dinner if you’re not into the guy?”

  It’s an excellent question. One I don’t have an answer for. I give her the best response I’ve got. Even if it doesn’t make sense. “In the moment, it felt right. But now? Not so much.”

  “Well, that’ll be uncomfortable. I can just imagine it—Coach, Rowan, Justin, and you. All sitting around the dinner table getting to know one another.”

  Ugh. She’s right.

  “That sounds horrific.” I slump on the chair, dreading the evening ahead before perking up enough to ask, “Hey! Want to come and help run interference? You’ll get a hot meal out of it.”

  “Hell, no. I’ve had your dad’s cooking enough times to know that it’s not worth the price of admission,” she says with a laugh. “Sorry, you’re on your own with that one.”

  “Bitch,” I mutter.

  Her shoulders shake with undisguised amusement as she steers us back to the original topic. “What happened to change your mind about Justin? I thought everything was going well.”

  I shrug, unwilling to tell her that the one guy who makes my heart beat into overdrive isn’t necessarily the one I’m going out with. There is nothing about Justin that makes me want to know him on a deeper level. And that’s a problem.

  “Oh, come on, there must be something.”

  My gaze shifts to the picture window that overlooks the tree-filled courtyard. “I thought it might take some time to feel a spark, but so far, it hasn’t happened, and after a month, I’ve lost hope that it will.”

  “You know better than that. Sparks are instantaneous. They’re either there or they aren’t.” Still sprawled on her belly, Sydney swings her bare legs back and forth.

  Reluctantly, I acknowledge she’s spot-on with her assessment. Even the memory of Rowan throwing his arm around my shoulders and hauling me close is enough to make my pulse skitter out of control. Not wanting to dwell on it, I shove those thoughts away before they can infect my brain like a deadly virus. I’ve got enough to deal with tonight. The last thing I need is to invite more complications.