Game Day Box Set: A College Football Romance

by Lily Cahill

  “Is it just me, or is the room spinning faster than usual this morning?” I ask, feeling like warmed-over poo.

  “It’s not spinning at all,” Nara says, rolling her eyes. “Which you might be able to tell if you didn’t get so hammered last night.”

  “Hammered? Look at you, using your big girl words. Do you even know what that means?”

  She knows I’m teasing, but still gives me a look that has “shut up” written all over it. Nara isn’t exactly what you’d call a party girl. She must have missed the keg stand section of her cheerleader orientation.

  She picks up my bookbag. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

  “Why are we friends again?” I ask as I pull a big sweater over my head and snatch my darkest sunglasses off the top of the dresser.

  “It’s a mystery to me,” she says, thrusting my bookbag into my arms.

  We head downstairs, saying hi to our sisters as we go. There’s a whole posse of them crafting something in the craft room. They invite us to join them, but I quickly decline. I didn’t even know crafts could have their own rooms before I became a Kappa. Oh, sorority life. You’re such a beautiful mystery sometimes.

  When Nara opens the front door, I have the sudden urge to murder her. The morning light attacks my sensitive eyeballs and I scramble to put on my sunglasses before the rage takes over.

  “Wow. It’s gorgeous outside today,” she says.

  “Why are cheerleaders always so goddamn perky?” I ask.

  “Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine this morning?” she says, then bends to pick something up. “Looks like your Dad dropped by.” She lifts a carton of chocolate milk off the porch. As usual, it’s holding down a note with my name on it.

  It’s a thing he does sometimes. When I was five, I thought I could live off the stuff. But the thought of chocolate milk right now makes me want to vomit. I toss it in the trash and take a peek at the note. In true Dad form, it says, “Winners never quit. Quitters never win.” It’s probably a not-so-veiled reference to my threat of transferring to another school. We haven’t spoken since our fight a couple weeks ago, and this isn’t so much a peace offering as it is a flying arrow. I chuck it in the trash.

  “At least he’s trying, Lou,” Nara says.

  “That’s not trying. Trying would be letting me live my own life for five seconds,” I say. “Did I tell you he told the entire football team I was off limits? Again?”

  “No wonder you’ve been talking about West Sawyer so much.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Have I?

  She looks at me sideways, “Are you serious right now? He’s all you’ve been talking about. And you’ve never been the girl who gets all goofy over one kiss.”

  “One kiss and one … moment.”

  “Whatever. At least it makes sense now.”

  “That’s not—it’s not about that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  It definitely started that way, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that night. I know how hot and bothered I am couldn’t have less to do with my father. I want to see the real West again—the one who’s acting from his gut. The one who held me down and had me so turned on it’s been giving me flashes of desire that keep me awake at night.

  “West is hot, Nara. And he’s a really good guy too.”

  “So the fact that he’s off limits had nothing to do with it?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows knowingly.

  “Fine,” I say. “But it wasn’t the whole reason. And definitely not now.”

  “Okay, good,” she says, seeming satisfied. “Because I like him for you. He is a good guy. Not like some of these asshole frat boys you’ve been with lately.”

  “Stop it.”

  “What? Are you seriously going to tell me Brett Camden is worth your attention? He’s such a creep.”

  “You and my dad should have lunch. I think you’d get along,” I say, my stomach roiling again. This is going to be a very long study session.

  “I’m just saying you’re heading in the right direction with West.”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up. We’re not heading in any direction right now.”

  The words come out sounding like I don’t care either way, but I do. The idea of being with West again sends warmth through my entire body. And it’s not just how hot he is—though that’s not hurting things—it’s him. His strong presence, his playful smile. It just felt … right with him.

  Not that it matters. He made it pretty clear that he wasn’t going to get involved with me because of my dad. And I really, really didn’t want him to be that kind of guy. Maybe he’ll prove he isn’t. But either way, the ball is in his court now. And as much as it stings, it’s better to know. If he can’t stand up to my dad, he’d never be able to handle me either.

  But part of me has a feeling it’s not really about my dad at all. Part of me thinks it’s only about West being in his head again—stifling that part of himself that he needs to trust the most. What makes a person get to a point where they don’t trust their instincts?

  The library comes into view—as does a tall, muscular frame standing on the steps. At first, the light plays a trick on me and my heart speeds up, hoping it’s West. But it’s not. It’s Nara’s boyfriend, Ben Mayhew: the wide receiver for the Mustangs. Her pace quickens and she lands in his arms.

  “Hi, love,” he says in that British accent of his. It’s the kind of sound that makes it hard to tell if he’s an asshole or a prince.

  “Hi,” Nara says, melting.

  They kiss. I roll my eyes and look away. The sight of them together is so sweet it’s making me nauseated. Then my stomach does a somersault and I realize it might not be the lovebirds getting me queasy.

  Seconds later, last night’s dinner is on the lawn.

  “Oh my God,” Nara says, pulling away from Ben. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed right now.”

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “You’re not fine,” Ben says, lifting a hand to protect his nose from the stench. “You got properly sozzled last night, didn’t you?”

  Nara gives him a “be nice” look, and he shrugs.

  “How do you understand anything he says?” I ask. “He should come with a dictionary attached.”

  “Come on, Lou,” Nara says. “Your face is all ashy.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, holding back a wave of nausea. “The worst is over.”

  I puke again.

  “We’re going home. Now,” Nara says.

  “Stay. Ben’s here. It’s like, one block. I can make it back on my own.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Nara says.

  “I’m just going to crash for a while. There’s tons of girls at the house if I need anything. And one of us might as well get some studying done.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I say.

  “Okay. But please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “And Lou?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Maybe take it easy at the SigEp mixer tonight?”

  Fuuuuuuuuuck. I totally forgot there was a mixer tonight. And like most events on the Kappa social calendar, it’s mandatory.

  I nod my agreement to Nara and start my trudge back to the house. I can rally for tonight. I’ll be fine once I get some sleep. It’s only nine. I can easily sleep until noon and still have time to go over my presentation a few times before the mixer.

  I make it to my room and don’t even bother undressing. I just curl up under the covers and go straight to sleep, thoughts of West making me toss and turn, even in my dreams. Especially in my dreams.

  Chapter Seven

  Lou

  “LOU, WAKE UP.”

  “HUH?” I say groggily. I look up through bleary eyes to see Nara standing over me in an elegant black cocktail dress, looking super worried.

  “It’s twenty to seven,” she says. “Almost everyone is already downstairs, ready to go.�
�

  “Oh, shit,” I say, leaping to my feet. One glance in the mirror tells me I’m more than twenty minutes from looking like death warmed over.

  “Want me to tell Caroline you’re sick?” she asks. Caroline is our chapter president.

  “No. I already used up all my allowed absences. If I miss one more event she’ll put me on probation.”

  I race over to my desk and twist the long swatch of hair on the top of my head into a sleek topknot. It would look better ironed out, but there’s no time for that. Then I rub a thick coat of moisturizer all over my face to make me look a little more fresh.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” I ask Nara as I draw on a little eyeliner. It’s not her fault I forgot to set an alarm, but she looks great. Why not wake me when she started getting ready?

  “I’m really sorry,” Nara says. “I stopped in around lunch and changed so Ben could take me out. You were sleeping so well I didn’t want to disturb you. We just got back.”

  “Where did you go that you needed to dress like that?” I ask. I brush on mascara, trying to make myself look more awake.

  “He took me to a traditional English tea service. It was really sweet.”

  She’s grinning so hard I think her cheeks might pop. She’s been like this ever since she and Ben decided to go exclusive. Usually it’s cute, but right now I need help. “Would you mind getting my dress out? It’s the electric blue one. The bodycon.”

  “No problem,” she says. She hustles over to my hamper and digs it out while I brush on blush and swipe a coat of a daring red onto my lips. There’s not much that a little bit of red lipstick can’t fix.

  “Time to go, ladies!” Caroline shouts up the staircase. “Last call!”

  Nara zips me into the dress as I step into heels and put on a little deodorant. My hands glide over my body in the mirror. The dress is simple and modern, with a high, structured neckline that plunges open in the back. It hugs me tight, displaying the curve of my breasts, my womanhood. I’m suddenly glad to be running so late. I don’t have time to think about my problems. I don’t have time to try and memorize this image—this feeling—in case I never feel it again.

  “Coming!” Nara shouts, spraying me with a spritz of perfume.

  We race out and down the steps. The whole house is there waiting for us—120 women milling in the foyer and out on the front lawn. It’s tradition to walk to the mixer together.

  Caroline is there with her clipboard, taking attendance.

  “Prescott and Robinson, reporting for duty,” I say, giving her a salute.

  “Close call, Lou,” Caroline says with a grin. “You might have missed something, though.” Then she tugs a piece of fabric from my armpit.

  It’s a thong.

  A wave of giggles hits the room, and I can’t help laughing with them. That could have been really embarrassing. I ball up the thong and toss it upstairs.

  “Kappa’s got your back!” somebody shouts, and the whole room starts a chant.

  “Kappa’s got your back!

  Whenever you look back

  It’s K-A-P-P-A you see

  That Kappa’s got your back!”

  The room erupts in a cheer as I roll my eyes and smirk. But the truth is that my heart feels extra warm. Screw what everyone says about sororities. These girls do have my back. No matter what. And I have theirs too. These are the moments my dad can’t see and I can’t seem to explain to him.

  Ten minutes later we’re streaming into the SigEp house where there’s music playing and hors d’oeuvres being passed. The guys have dressed up too, in sports jackets and slacks. They look great and it’s sweet to see how much effort they’ve put into this event for us.

  I see Brett out of the corner of my eye. He’s standing with a group of guys hovering near the bartender. He waves me over.

  “Don’t,” Nara warns, grabbing my arm.

  “I’m just going to say hi,” I say.

  She sighs, but lets me go.

  “You guys know Lou, right?” Brett says, hanging his arm around my shoulders. It’s a buddy-buddy sort of gesture that tells me he knows we’re just friends. Even if my dad hadn’t interrupted it, our night wasn’t really going that well. He felt more like a little brother than a date, and it seemed like he was thinking the same about me. There just wasn’t any chemistry. I’m glad Brett isn’t hurt and that we can still be friends.

  “Hello, hello,” I say to the group. There’s six guys in the circle. I know most of them—Damon and Andrew and Shane—but the rest are new to me.

  “Lou here can put ‘em back like nobody I’ve ever met,” Brett says. “I swear, she’s practically a dude.”

  I sock him in the side and he groans. “Whatever,” I say.

  “She sure doesn’t look like a dude to me,” one of the guys says. Then he extends his hand. “I’m Cal.”

  I reach out to shake his hand and he does that creepy thing where he turns my hand to kiss it. I pull it away before he can, and he looks up surprised.

  “Sorry, I’m not into strangers getting their spit on me,” I say.

  The guys laugh and Cal goes a little red.

  “You’ll excuse me. Caroline over there has threatened to cunt-punt anyone who doesn’t mingle.” It’s not even close to true. I’m referring to the infamous Delta Gamma letter that went viral. Besides, everyone knows Caroline would never use that kind of language, which is why it gets a big laugh. I try to step away, but Brett grabs my elbow.

  “Come on, Lou,” Brett says, handing me a shot. “Stay for a drink.”

  “I’m taking it easy tonight. Big test tomorrow.”

  “Oh, please,” Brett says. “I’ve seen you ace a final when you could barely see straight.”

  The guys join in.

  “Weak.”

  “Let’s get this party started!”

  “You’re no fun.”

  The words rankle me. I’m the life of the party girl, not the wet blanket girl.

  Brett looks at me with a grin. “It’s not a party without you.”

  “Fine, one drink,” I say. I take the glass from him. “Bottoms up!” It will probably level out my hangover anyway.

  Chapter Eight

  West

  THE WIND WHIPS AGAINST MY face as I run. It’s cold tonight, but I don’t feel it. My blood is running too fast, my body making its own heat. I’m on a midnight jog, trying to soothe my sore muscles. And frankly, still trying to forget her.

  Now that I know she exists, it’s hard not to hone in on her name when people mention her. She’s still going out, doing her thing. Living it up and getting crazy.

  But honestly? All I can think about is spending a lazy Sunday with her. One of those days where you only leave the house to grab breakfast and then binge on movies or TV all day. I want to learn how she acts when she’s not turned up to full volume. I want to know what she looks like first thing in the morning, or feel what it would be like to have her curled up and dozing in my arms. Maybe it’s just because my body has been craving a break from all this training. But it craves Lou too.

  I can still taste her on my lips. My whole body is aching for her. I’m going through withdrawals so bad I had to call my sponsor. He ran through all the usual support that kept me from scoring a bump when I wanted it worst, but the temptation of Lou hasn’t diminished.

  I pump my legs harder to flush her from my mind. She’s off limits. There’s no getting around the fact she’s Coach’s daughter. Dating her would be a violation of his trust, and I can’t do that to him.

  My head knows I did the right thing. My pants, however, disagree.

  What I’m not sure of yet is where my heart falls in the mix. I wish I could take the time to get to know her better. Maybe then I’d learn her quirks and they’d irritate me. Maybe she’d smack her gum or snort when she laughs. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so damn appealing.

  But even as I’m thinking it, I know it’s not true. It seems like every time I learn more about Lou, she on
ly gets more amazing. And even if she did have some weird quirk, I wouldn’t care about it and I know it. Not with her. With her, even tapping fingernails would be fun.

  My breath clouds in front of me, and my lungs start to sting from my pace. This wasn’t supposed to be a sprint. I need fresh legs for practice tomorrow. I force myself to slow down. The running isn’t helping anyway. It just makes me think of her more. I bend over and take huge gulps of air until my heart rate slows down.

  When I look up again, I realize I’ve made it all the way to the Diamond Street Mall—blocks and blocks of outdoor shops flooded with buskers and tourists in the summer. Tonight, though, it’s mostly quiet. There’s only a couple of restaurants and bars still open. Sunday isn’t usually a big party night around here.

  A peal of laughter splits the air and I turn my head. There’s a group of guys making their way toward the nearest bar. Well, mostly guys.

  Lou is right in the center of them, wearing a drop-dead sexy blue dress that’s showing off her luscious shape.

  And from the sway of her steps, it’s clear she’s wasted. Not only that, but that douche Brett has his arm around her shoulders. And that asshat Cal has his hand on her waist—inching up and up and—fuck. Did he just grab her breast? Blood rushes through my veins, and it has nothing to with exercise.

  I watch Lou dart away from both of them, but I’m already running forward at full speed. He’s going after her again, laughing. But Lou looks mad as hell. She’s fumbling at something on her keychain—pepper spray? But she’s too late. My fist hits the motherfucker first.

  “What the fuck?” Cal shouts, hand to his jaw.

  “You keep your goddamn hands off her.”

  “Whoa,” Brett says, hands up. “Nobody’s doing anything weird here. Right, Lou?”

  “You … entitled … piece of shiiiit,” Lou shouts at Cal, slurring and swaying way too much to make me comfortable.