by Natalie Rios
Gee, he got over Camilla real quick. Asshole.
I spot Theo and the blonde heading up the staircase. He’s behind her, with his hand on her ass, as if it needs to be held up. Probably on their way up to finish the job of breaking the frat table.
Just as they reach the last step, Theo turns his head and looks at me. Right at me. As if he knew I was watching. Unperturbed, I hold up my cup in a mock cheers. The bastard winks and mouths something that looks like you wish as he jerks a thumb towards Blondie.
Me, wish I was her? A girl he’s about to fuck and then forget before sunrise? Yeah, right. I have way more self-respect than that.
“Want to play beer pong? We’re next in line.” Camilla’s practically bouncing with excitement as she says this, pulling my attention away from Theo and the blonde.
“Sure. But then we’re out of here. Seriously,” I add at both her and Lia’s eye rolls. “I’m not going to be late to another 8am class because of you two.”
“Sure, Grandma. Whatever you say.”
One round of beer pong later and I have to pee. There's a long line outside the lone bathroom downstairs and I don't think I can hold it that long. Luckily, one of the brothers spots me doing the potty dance and informs me there's another bathroom on the second floor.
"Third door on your right. And it's private, so don't go circulating that information around," he says with a wag of a finger.
I promise to keep my lips sealed and jog upstairs. The third door on the right is slightly ajar, with a sliver of light spilling out. Just in case, I give it a good knock. When I'm met with silence, I push the door open the rest of the way.
I blink several times, convinced I must be drunker than I thought. Because standing there in a pool of light, with one hand on the sink and the other cupping his crotch, is Theo Montgomery.
Impossible. I saw him leave with Blondie less than an hour ago. They should be at his apartment screwing like bunnies right now. Why would he be up here alone?
Wait a minute. Is he…is he jerking off?
Without thinking, my eyes drop down to his lower half and holy salami, Batman!
Mother of God. Mother of God. Am I drooling? I might be drooling.
Because Theo Montgomery is hung like a horse. I have to wonder if Blondie headed for the hills the second she saw it. Maybe that's why he's up here by himself. That thing would have broken her in two.
"Hey, Perez. How’s it going? Got tired of partying?"
Is he seriously trying to have a conversation right now? Because I’m still hypnotized by his salami dick. That is one ginormous package. "I - um..." He flicks his wrist, the mushroom tip of his dick playing peek-a-boo. Slow deliberate strokes, up and down. I'm distracted again, words evaporating at the tip of my tongue.
"Like what you see?"
Those words register though. Prying my eyes away from where his hand is leisurely moving up and down his shaft, I find him staring at me. Giving me a crooked smile that’s all cocky player.
My cheeks are engulfed in flames and if I didn't need both of my hands to cover my eyes, I would be fanning myself right now. "I need to use the bathroom."
He shrugs. "Go right ahead, I'm almost done."
My eyes widen with disbelief. He wants me to pee while he’s jerking off at the sink? “Excuse me?”
“Kidding. Step outside and close the door. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Oh, God. This is inappropriate. Me being in here is totally inappropriate. I turn and slam the door behind me, leaning against the wall while I catch my breath.
I hear the faucet run before Theo steps out, cocksure grin in place. “All yours, Perez.” He doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed to have been caught masturbating at a frat party. Well, if he’s not embarrassed, I’m not going to be either. I knocked, I waited. I did nothing wrong. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen a cock before.
Yeah, but not one quite like that.
Lifting my chin, I arch a brow when I pass him. “See you in class, Montgomery.”
Theo
“Perez.”
Allie doesn’t even glance up at me, continuing to read...whatever on her iPad. “Theodore.” Well, this just won’t do. I have to rile her up somehow.
“Almost didn’t recognize you without the coffee stains and bootie shorts.” That does it.
Locking her screen, she flashes me a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Didn’t recognize you without some skank plastered on your arm.”
I slap a hand across my heart, pretending her comment was like a stab to the chest. “Shame on you, Perez. So quick to judge. She could be a Phi Beta Kappa, for all you know.”
“Unlikely, considering I’m a member and I don’t know her.”
Should have figured. “A Rhodes scholar, then.”
Smirking, Allie tilts her head to one side and studies me. “Do you even remember her name?”
“Of course I do.” Not. To be honest, I’m not even sure who she’s talking about. I’m a D-1 football player. The quarterback, at that. Girls are constantly hanging around me. Hell, two girls walked across campus, in the complete opposite direction of where they needed to be, just to walk me to class this morning. But there’s no way I’ll ever admit defeat to Allie Perez.
“So, what is it then?”
“Emily,” I guess at random, because it’s a common name and there’s no way for her to prove me wrong anyway. “See, I’m not such a bad guy, Perez.”
“Mmhmm.” Pulling out her phone, she ignores me as she types something out.
“Got a pen I can borrow?”
She shoots me a nasty look, probably pissed I caused her to miss whatever the professor just said. But she wordlessly hands me a pen. A pink glitter pen. The corners of her mouth twitch and I just know the little minx did it on purpose.
She chose a pink glitter pen to fuck with me.
“Oh, Perez. You amateur,” I whisper in her ear, causing her to jerk away from me. Smiling, I reach across the arm-tablet for her thermos. “Sharing is caring.” With that, I take a hearty gulp and then another, earning myself a nasty glare.
If this shit didn’t taste absolutely vile, I’d drink the entire thing just so she can spend the rest of class shooting daggers at me. But fuck, this isn’t coffee. It’s sugar with a side of vanilla and a dash of coconut and a huge helping of diabetes.
Seriously, who puts coconut in their coffee?
So two gulps and hearing Allie whisper the word asshole will have to do for now.
Allie is surprisingly silent after that. I expected some sort of retaliation so her silent stewing is a huge letdown. Leaving me bored as shit for the rest of the lecture.
No offense to any sociology majors out there, but it’s not my cup of tea. I’m only taking this class because I needed another 3 credits to meet the conference minimum credit load for full-time student-athletes. It’s an intro level class, packed with freshmen, that grades on a curve. An easy A to help maintain a healthy GPA and hopefully keep my parents off my back until draft time.
So yeah, this lecture on the sociological imagination and the three major sociological perspectives isn’t doing it for me. Thank God for my cell phone and Wi-Fi. I almost jump up and do a happy dance when class ends, but then I remember my discussion section is scheduled to start today. Let’s hope we don’t actually discuss any of the reading since I haven’t gotten to it yet.
I’m packing up and getting ready to leave when Allie hisses at my ear. “Oh, Theodore. Looks like you were wrong about Emily.”
“What are you talking about?” Turning in my seat, I’m met with Allie’s iPhone pressed against my face.
“I texted my friend Lia, who was at the party with me the other night. She knows practically all of the sorority girls on campus. And she knows your blonde friend. Her name’s not Emily, by the way. It’s Tiffany. And she’s most certainly not a Rhodes Scholar.” Taking her phone, I study the Instagram picture she’s holding up.
It’s the blonde I met at the
Kappa party the other night. And, yup. She’s tagged as Tiffany Marie Anderson. Full name. I can’t even pretend Emily is her middle name.
“Oh, that girl. See, I thought you were talking about the girl I hooked up with last night. Her name’s Emily.” It’s a lie. I haven’t hooked up with anyone yet this semester, Miss Tiffany included. I never even left the frat house with Tiffany, just escorted her upstairs where she proceeded to grab my junk and slobber all over my neck. I might have been into it, or at least pretended to be, if it hadn’t been for Allie’s long legs and sharp tongue earlier in the night. I couldn’t get the image out of my head, so I bade Tiffany goodnight and went upstairs to relieve myself.
Where Miss Allie Perez walked in on me.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem too affected at having seen my cock. She’s her usual sunny self today. Maybe I should be offended by that, but I kind of enjoy our bickering.
“You disgusting pig,” Allie sneers, snapping my focus back to her. “Tiffany on Monday, Emily on Tuesday. What’s on deck for Wednesday? A threesome with a couple of cheerleaders?”
“You seem very intrigued by my sex life. I can give you an in-depth analysis if you want.”
“I don’t.”
“Not all of us are strapped in with our chastity belts, Perez. Though if you ever need help taking yours off, just let me know. I’m even willing to squeeze you in before the cheerleaders.”
“Of course, your dick may have already fallen off by then. STDs will do that to you.” Holding out a hand, she puckers her lips. Those lips, can they be natural? Dark and intense crimson, plump and juicy like a Red Delicious apple. One I want to take a bite of.
She clears her throat. “Pen?”
Oh. She wasn’t pouting, she was gesturing to her pen. Which I’m still holding in my hand. Dropping it on the arm-tablet, I flick it so it rolls towards her. What the hell are we talking about? Oh, yeah. She accused me of having an STD. “Don’t go spreading false rumors. I’m clean as a whistle and insinuating otherwise would be libel.”
“Slander,” she corrects. “Libel is written, slander is spoken.” She’s already walking down the steps towards the exit. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and fall into step behind her.
“Such a nerd.” Allie doesn’t reply to that quip, which is just as well. Gives me an opportunity to study her from behind.
Seeing her the other night at the Kappa house had been a shock on all levels. The most intriguing of which was her outfit. Tiny little black shorts that made those long, golden legs look endless. Fuck, I've been thinking about those legs wrapped around me ever since. Dreamed about hauling her into my bedroom, stripping off those itty bitty shorts and tasting every last inch of her.
You would never know it from looking at her now, but Allie’s got an ass on her. The kind you want to grab by the handfuls and squeeze. The kind that, even with my large quarterback hands, I wouldn’t be able to fit each cheek in my palms. The perky, round and firm kind girls spend hours doing squat thrusts at the gym to try to obtain.
Tiny waistline, flat midriff, and a perfectly round ass I doubt Allie got from working out.
Her body is, in a word, perfection.
No shorts today though. Those mile long legs are covered by a pair of stretchy leggings. And that spectacular ass is hidden beneath a baggy t-shirt, leaving not even a small hint of curve. Not that it matters. The damage has been done. I’ve got my memory and an overactive imagination to thank for my rock hard cock.
The second I step out of Baker Hall, a girl jumps in my path. “Hi, Theo!”
I flash her a smile. “Hey.”
“I’m Delia. I just transferred to Carlton.”
“Ah. Welcome.” Craning my neck, I try to sneak one last glance at Allie’s glorious behind, but she’s lost in the crowd. The quad is absolutely swamped with students heading to their next class. Speaking of which, I need to get going too. “Listen, it was nice meeting you, but I have to get to my discussion section-”
“I’ll walk with you!” Delia immediately offers. “I don’t have class right now anyway. Do you guys have a game this weekend?”
“Nah. First game of the season is next week.”
“You’re going to win. I know you are. With your arm? It’s a given.”
“Thanks.”
“If you want to celebrate after, call me. A new transfer student like me could use someone to show her around campus. You know, all the best places to have a good time.” Delia flutters her lashes and licks her lips. I know exactly what kind of good time she’s looking for.
“Sure, baby. Give me your number.” She quickly stores her number in my phone before dashing off because she only just remembered she has some place to be.
See what I mean about the girls? I don’t even have to do anything to get their phone numbers.
When I step into the classroom, I do a double take. Walking up to her desk, I shake my head. “You have got to be shitting me. You’re in this discussion section too?”
“Looks like it. Don’t sit next to me,” Allie snipes. She picks up her backpack and places it on the empty chair next to her.
Holding up my hands, I back away. “Wasn’t planning to.” One hour of sitting next to Little Miss Sunshine is more than enough for me, thank you very much.
I find an empty corner seat in the back row, which also happens to be the second row. This classroom is small, designed for small group discussions rather than an actual lecture. There are two rows of eight seats and by the time the TA shuffles his way in, every seat in the room is taken.
My neighbors are freshmen, wannabe football groupies by the looks of it. The girl in front of me is too shy to do anything more than occasionally turn around and gawk at me. The one next to me is bold though, whispering questions every opportunity she gets. She knows my stats better than I do and after twenty minutes, I kind of wish I had sat next to Allie. I’ll take her quiet surliness over chatty Cathy any day.
Luckily, the TA splits us up into groups at the half hour mark. “These are your groups for the rest of the semester,” he explains. “You will sit together and spend the first half of class discussing the assigned topic as a group before presenting your conclusions to the class. You will also work on weekly writing assignments together-”
The entire class (except for maybe Allie, Queen of the Nerds) groans at this point.
“Relax. We’re talking about a 4-page paper using sociological research methods. That’s 4 pages to be divided among 4 group members. You do the math,” he jokes.
A page each a week. Could be worse.
“I’m going to call out the groups. Group A, you’ll be on the far left four seats. That will be Sally, Anthony, Marcus, and Elizabeth. Group B, left middle four. Bethany, Susan, Edward, and Phillip. Group C, right middle four. Alma, Nancy, Theodore, and Douglas. Group D-”
I stop listening and move to my newly assigned group section. Shy girl takes the seat next to me. “Nancy.”
“Doug,” the guy in front of me turns around to say. A bag slams on the ground beside him and we all look up to find an irritated Allie. Who proceeds to take the empty seat next to Doug.
“Uh, Allie. What are you doing? You’re not in this group,” I point out.
She glowers at me. “Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not. The TA said Alma. Your name’s not Alma.”
“What kind of a name is Alma anyway?” Doug snickers.
Allie shoots him a murderous look. “Allie is a nickname for Alma.”
Oh shit.
3
Allie
“WHAT KIND of a name is Alma anyway?”
I glare at the redhead sitting next to me. I already don’t like him. I don’t like him and working with Theo is going to be impossible
Please, please let Nancy be semi-normal.
“Allie is a nickname for Alma,” I say to Theo. He still looks like he doesn’t believe this twist of fate.
“Alma?” he asks incredulously while the annoying re
dhead snickers again.
“It’s the Spanish word for soul,” I say trying very hard not to let their behavior get to me.
The redhead studies me through narrowed eyes. I get the feeling I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to say. “Where are you from?”
“New York.”
“No, where are you really from?”
“New York.”
“Well, where are your parents from?”
I grit my teeth. “New York. I was born in New York and so were both of my parents.”
“Huh. So you’re not Mexican? Because you look Mexican.” Oh, boy. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but that right there just made things infinitely more awkward.
“I’m not Mexican,” I reply. Not that I think he heard me.
Because at the exact same time, Theo snaps from behind him, “What’s your problem, Doug? She answered your question, move the fuck on.”
Doug puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, man. No harm meant.”
The TA chooses that moment to announce our first writing assignment. The topic? What’s in a Name: what do baby names say about the paradox of individualism in American culture?
Such a happy coincidence, that.
The rest of the class is uneventful, just the TA explaining the rules for discussion sessions going forward and going over the topics we’ll be covering. The only bit of awkwardness comes at the end of class when Nancy, suggests we exchange phone numbers so we can meet up to work on our assignment.
Now, this isn’t a bad idea. We have a group assignment that needs to be done, duties that need to be delegated. Meeting up sometime this week is a given. But hell no do I want to give my number to Douchebag 1 and Douchebag 2.
“Email works better for me,” I say, writing mine down three times on a piece of paper I cut up and distribute. Theo is already rattling off his number to Nancy. Which is weird because you would think out of the four of us, the superstar athlete would be the one most concerned about circulating his phone number.
But I guess getting laid trumps personal safety and privacy in the eyes of Mr. Popular.
