Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2)

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Friend Zoned

  By

  Jennifer Sucevic

  Copyright 2016 by Jennifer Sucevic

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved. This book is licensed for your enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Also by Jennifer Sucevic

  Confessions of a Heartbreaker

  Don’t Leave

  King of Campus

  Stay

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek- King of Campus

  Sneak Peek- Stay

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Sam

  It’s the light scraping of the window pane being forced up that has my eyelids feathering open. Not a moment later, a small lithe body slips through the opening before dropping quietly to the floor of my second story bedroom. Cautiously she treads across the wooden floorboards so as to not wake my parents before toeing off her black Converse sneakers and shedding the gray hoodie. When she’s in nothing more than a thin pink tank top and a pair of stretchy black yoga pants, she continues moving towards me again. Without a word spoken between us, I simply hold open the blankets so she can slip silently beneath them.

  Carefully I pull the sheet and comforter over her, tucking them around her body. “Nightmare?” It’s sleepily that the word falls from my lips into the swirling darkness. Without looking at the clock, I know it has to be well after midnight.

  “Yup.”

  That’s all she says and because this is a well-established routine, one we’ve been doing for about two and a half years now, I know it’s pointless to push for more. I’ve learned that all Violet really wants is for me to chase away the dreams that continue to haunt her. The last thing she wants is to talk about them.

  And so I do the one thing I love best, I curve my six foot two frame around her small body, pulling her against me until we’re both comfortably settled. Even though I had been slumbering soundly before her arrival, I always sleep better with her tucked safely in my arms.

  An unintentional sigh of contentment falls softly from my lips as the fragrance of her rosemary mint shampoo hits my senses. I’ve learned to simply enjoy this time of the night with her because come morning, when my alarm goes off at six thirty for school, she’ll be long gone. Back in her own bedroom about fifty yards away.

  And it’ll be like it never even happened.

  Violet doesn’t talk much about her parents or the younger sister she lost in a car crash when she was just fourteen years old. It’s what sent her life spiraling into chaos, forcing her to move in with her grandparents the summer before eighth grade.

  But I know the nightmares still claw at her during the darkest part of the night. When they do, she’ll scamper up the scarred hundred year old oak tree that stands right outside my bedroom window with its gnarled root system and thick branches. Because I never know just when she’ll show up, I leave the window unlatched so she’s able to come and go as she pleases.

  Violet burrows into my embrace before a soft contented sigh, one which echoes my own, leaves her mouth before arrowing straight through my beating heart.

  “Comfy?”

  I don’t know why I even bother asking. I can tell by the way her entire body goes lax against mine that she is. Then again, maybe I just want to hear her say the words. Maybe I want her to finally acknowledge that when she needs comforting, it’s me she runs to. I’m the only one who can keep the nightmares at bay. There aren’t many people Violet allows herself to be completely unguarded with. I count myself lucky to be one of the chosen few. Protecting her has become second nature.

  More like a reflex.

  Again she sighs in pleasure, “Mmm hmm.”

  But it’s enough.

  Enough for now.

  “Good. Now go to bed so we can both get a little shut eye.” Although I would stand guard over her sleeping form until the sun came up in the eastern sky if that’s what she needed. If that’s what it took for her to get just a little bit of rest.

  Violet may not realize it, but she completes me in the most basic sense of the word. When she’s wrapped up tight in my arms, it’s like I can finally breathe again. Which is kind of strange because, before Violet Winterfield entered my life, I never realized that I wasn’t sucking in full breaths of oxygen.

  This girl is mine. I marked her as my own when I first locked eyes on her as she stepped out of her grandparent’s navy sedan three summers ago.

  Just as my eyes start to droop, she murmurs into the darkness that continues to cloak us, “Don’t let go, okay?”

  Her words have me pressing my lips against the gentle curve of her cheek before whispering fiercely, “I won’t let go, Vi. Not ever.”

  Chapter One

  Sam slides his big muscular body onto the chair parked next to me about thirty seconds after the start of class. His thick jean clad leg presses up against mine as he settles himself in. Not taking my eyes off the professor who has already launched into the lecture for the day, I carefully whisper from the corner of my mouth, “So nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Harper.”

  Even though I’m not looking his way, I know he’s grinning from ear to ear. I can all but feel it. His smiles are just as brilliantly blinding as the sun. Heat radiates from them in thick heavy waves. Any minute his warm breath is going to feather right across my-

  “Hey, I had to haul ass all the way from the stadium.” He snorts before adding, “Coach scheduled a midafternoon practice just for the fun of it.”

  Well... that last comment is completely debatable. After all, it’s early November. And damn chilly out. The Bulldogs have been on an incredible winning streak this season, which means ramped up practices and workout schedules so they can keep their number one seed going into the playoffs. At this point, everyone in their conference is looking to tear them down.

  Fi
nally glancing over at him, I notice his dark blond hair is all shiny and wet from the shower he must have just taken. His bright blue eyes spear mine with a sparkle of mischief simmering within them. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is just a bit labored.

  He looks…

  He kind of looks…

  I’m slammed with the notion that this is probably how Sam looks right after a rowdy bout of sex. Something deliciously hot arrows clean through me before settling deep within my core. Not knowing where the hell that thought sprang up from, I abruptly shift my body away from his. My brows pull together in bewilderment.

  What the hell is that all about?

  Even more bothersome than that- those kinds of pesky thoughts regarding Sam have been cropping up with a disconcerting amount of frequency lately. And, I swear to god, it slammed into me out of nowhere. It’s not like anything even happened between us. More like I blinked one day and suddenly he just looked different to me.

  That being said, I just need it all to go away.

  Sam and I are friends.

  Good friends. But friends none the less. And I really don’t want that changing.

  We met when I moved in with my grandparents who live right next door to his family. That was eight years ago and we’ve been tight ever since. Somehow we lucked out, both of us choosing to attend Barnett University.

  I wanted to stick close to my grandparents since I’m all they have and Sam plays football for the Barnett Bulldogs. Although I know he was offered full rides to play at half a dozen other division I programs both in and out of state, he chose to stay local as well.

  Needing to refocus my runaway thoughts, I murmur under my breath, “I’m hoping for your sake that you finished up the paper that’s due today on the power of the judiciary over the legislature.” I don’t even look at him as I say the words. The last thing I need is to incur the wrath of Dr. Rickets.

  “Yup. Freshly printed with references cited up the ass.”

  I almost snort but thankfully rein it back in at the last moment. References had better be cited or Rickets will come after you with both barrels blasting. He’s flunked people in PS 345- the Judicial Process for way less than that. Since Sam and I are both in the pre-law program, we have a lot of the same classes although this is the only one we have together this semester. So we end up hunkered down at the library on a fairly regular basis.

  Rickets continues droning on as Sam gets his laptop up and running. After about fifteen minutes, he leans towards me again, totally breaking my concentration. Unfortunately laser focus is required because this class takes dry to whole new and challenging level. “You planning to hit the Sigma party tonight?”

  My brows furrow as I silently contemplate the question. I’m just on the verge of answering when Rickets sharp voice slices through the stale air of the classroom.

  “An answer if you please, Mr. Harper.”

  My belly drops about eleven stories in two seconds flat because even though I try not to let Sam distract me, I hadn’t been aware of a question being thrown out there.

  But Sam doesn’t miss a beat. “Within limits, judges do, in fact, make law. Common law is their creation, and statutes require their interpretation. All law must continually be aligned with the Constitution. But at the end of the day, the Constitution means what judges decide it does.”

  If Rickets is at all impressed by the fact that Sam answered without even blinking his eyes, he doesn’t let on. Although, by the way he presses his fleshy lips together, I’d have to say he’s disappointed not to have caught Sam unawares. He continues lecturing in a rather monotone voice, biding his time before springing yet another complex question on some unsuspecting student just trying to muddle their way through this class so they can graduate.

  Almost leisurely, Sam stretches out that great big body of his in the seat next to me. As he does, the bottom of his soft gray cotton t-shirt rides up giving me a rather distracting view of rock solid abdominals before I force my eyes away.

  I seriously don’t know what the hell is going on with me lately. I mean, it hasn’t been that long since I’ve been with a guy. Certainly not long enough to warrant me noticing the taut ridges of my best friend’s six pack.

  But I am.

  Yeah… I am so noticing them right now.

  And that is all kinds of wrong.

  “So, you in or out for the party?”

  Irritated by the unwanted feelings that keep popping up within me, I shake my head before muttering, “Can we discuss this after class? I’m trying to focus here.”

  Key word is trying.

  But clearly I’m having a difficult time with that.

  Which doesn’t make the least bit of sense.

  There is no way I should be having these kinds of thoughts about Sam. It feels, I don’t know... incestuous. Sort of. Maybe. A little bit. Although it’s not as if we’re related or anything like that.

  It’s just that we’ve known each other since we were fourteen years old. For goodness sake, I used to crawl into bed with the guy when we were in high school. Although nothing ever happened between us. There were no wandering hands in the middle of the night. No copping a cheap feel. No I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. He would simply hold me in his arms while I slept.

  That was it.

  Up until very recently, I’ve never thought of Sam as anything other than my best friend.

  Which is precisely why these thoughts are disturbing on so many different levels.

  Unperturbed by my abrupt tone, he shrugs his broad shoulders before slouching further onto his chair. “Sure.”

  Sam has, for all intents and purposes, a photographic memory. So chit chatting the entire class period away is no biggie for him. All he has to do is read something once and it’s locked in for life. Which, I’m not going to lie, is annoying as hell to people like myself who actually have to study their proverbial asses off to pull decent grades.

  Okay… so maybe it’s a little more than annoying.

  Even though Sam doesn’t face the same academic challenges that I do, he lets me borrow that big brain of his anytime I need it. He’s pretty great about studying with me or re-explaining concepts I don’t have a firm grasp on.

  After another thirty-three minutes, which is precisely three minutes past the end of class, Rickets finally releases us back into the world. People scatter from the room as if they’re fleeing for their very lives. Which I can’t exactly blame them for. Rickets dearly loves a captive audience and is always just a bit reluctant to turn them loose when his time finally draws to an end.

  As soon as we clear the door of the classroom, Sam slings his muscular arm around my shoulders as we make our way out of the poli sci building. It may be bright and sunny out, but there’s a cold northeasterly wind whipping its way through campus. I’m bundled up in my silver North Face coat and Sam is wearing his varsity football jacket.

  “I hate this weather,” I grumble right before Sam tugs me closer to that big body of his. The guy radiates heat like a furnace. That being said, I can’t help but snuggle into his warmth as the wind continues to slap at us with icy cold fingers.

  “Better?” His lips are so close to my ear that the husky cadence of his voice sends an unexpected shiver skittering its way down my spine. My eyes fly to his hoping that the hitch in my breathing has gone unnoticed.

  He flashes a brief smile but doesn’t seem any wiser to what’s going on within me. A little sigh of relief escapes from my lips.

  Jesus H. Christ.

  I don’t know why I keep reacting to him this way. It’s totally disconcerting. Not to mention embarrassing.

  The first couple of times it happened, I shrugged it off as a fluke.

  We’re unfortunately moving past fluke and towards-

  Nope. Not going to go there. Because I definitely don’t think about Sam like that. Furthermore, I don’t want to think about Sam like that.

  “Much,” I squeak as my heart continues jackhammering painfu
lly under my breast.

  Glancing around, he asks, “So, where’s what’s-his-face? Doesn’t he usually meet you after class on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

  I send him one of those I-don’t-really-want-to-talk-about-it looks and he immediately starts chortling. Which is so not a good look on him. “Jeez, Vi, ran another one off already, huh? That was fast. Even for you.”

  “Eight days,” I confirm reluctantly. Which is par for the course where I’m concerned. My relationships have absolutely zero staying power. I’ve actually had cartons of milk sitting in my fridge that outlast some of these guys.

  Which is… yeah… just plain sad.

  “I don’t know why you even bother.”

  Shaking my head, I have to agree with the sentiment. “Me, neither.”

  “Off to sociology?”

  I’m not even sure why he asks. The guy probably knows my schedule better than I do.

  “Yup, then I’m done for the day.” Although I do have a ton of studying to plow my way through this afternoon. Which is pretty standard. There is no shortage of books that need cracking and papers that need writing.

  “I have philosophy at one, film review, and then another practice to run through. So you heading to that party or what, Winterfield? Not much else going on tonight.” His arm tightens around my shoulders drawing me closer until I’m able to get a heady whiff of his delicious smelling cologne.

  That thought very nearly sends me stumbling.

  Seriously… WTF?

  “After all the parties we missed because of Rickets class, not to mention studying for the LSAT, we’ve earned it.” Trying his best to cajole me into going, he adds, “Come on, Vi, it’s supposed to be a huge monster bash. No one does it better than the Sigmas.”

  Well, he’s not lying about all the parties that have been missed because of writing that paper for Rickets’ class and studying for the law school entrance exam, which we both took in September.

  Hmmm… I have to admit that he makes damn good sense. Maybe we do deserve to cut loose, if only for a night.

  That being said, I still hedge. “I have to see if Mia’s up for it, but yeah, we’ll probably end up stopping by at some point.” Mia is my roommate as well as best friend. We met freshman year in English one-oh-two.