GRAYSON

I loved my team. Really, I did. Most of them anyway.

Transitioning from high school football to college definitely took me through a loop. Football was a big deal at my school in Modesto, but it wasn't anything compared to how it is when you're playing for a team that makes a shit ton of money off you.

And money runs the world. Apparently protects rapists, too.

It was intense, joining the OSU team. And not only joining them but starting. Racking up stats that could rival some of the best players in our division.

But these guys, they made it seem easy.

I loved them. But I wasn't in the mood for this right now.

"Not your girl yet, huh?" Julian's drunken eyes trailed to the door where Nessa had just left. "That's a damn shame."

He had no idea. "Tell me about it. Came close, though."

Noah, one of our tight ends, leaned in. "How close?"

Nosy bastard. "Went over to her place over winter break. Met her whole family. Played football with her little brother. Taught her how to play the guitar. Made-out in her bedroom."

Jules snorted. "Sounds like she's your girl."

I shook my head. "I fucked it up. She's not my girl."

Julian's roommate Reggie plopped down on the couch next to me. "So what you're saying is that she's available."

"No, that is not what I'm fucking saying, Reggie," I said, shooting him a glare. The last thing I needed was Reggie Welsh as competition. All he had to do was flash his dimples, and girls fell at his feet.

He chuckled and gave me a little shove to prove that he was joking.

"What about the other chick?" Noah asked, perching on the back of the sofa. "The blonde one."

"That's Quinton's ex," I said bitingly. Thinking about what Reid did got me all wound up. "Madie."

"Oh, she's back?" Julian murmured softly, almost to himself. He looked back at the door as if the girls were still there.

I nodded. It was probably for the best, too. If I remembered correctly, Madie and Quinton were high school sweethearts gone wrong. So if Quinton was back home, then Madie should be far away from there. I assumed that's where she'd been, anyway.

"Maybe she could use someone to comfort her," Noah said with a smirk. "Help her forget Reid."

"I've got a shoulder to cry on," Ismael joined in, knocking into Noah with a smile.

I opened my mouth, but Julian beat me to it. His fiery side lit up, east coast accent sharp.

"Knock it off, you pieces of shit. No one goes fucking near that girl. I'm sure she wants absolutely nothing to do with us. Got it, London? Izzy?"

Noah's eyes grew wide while Ismael sank back with an oh shit look on his face. A threat from Julian meant something. "Got it," Noah mumbled.

"Sorry, man. You know we were just kidding," Ismael added.

I swiveled around the room, trying to find Brodie. He was the one who really needed to hear that. Ismael and Noah were harmless even if they lacked a little tact.

"Yeah, yeah," Jules said, waving them off. His expression had reverted to its usual lazy look. When he spoke again, his slow drawl was back. He turned to me. "So, what'd you do?"

I wasn't in the mood to get drunk advice from Julian. Giving me advice was his favorite thing to do. And when he was sober, it usually wasn't half-bad. But his bloodshot eyes and how he'd just snapped at the guys told me that wasn't currently the case. "Don't wanna talk about it, man."

"Eh, come on."

He kept his eyes on me as he took a swig out of a bottle of beer. Reggie and Noah started chatting about something else, and Ismael slunk away to the kitchen. Probably pissed himself. He'd always been a little scared of Julian's wrath.

I sighed. "There's really not much to tell. She's keeping me at arm's length because she seems to think that all I want is sex."

Amused, Julian smirked. "And is that true?"

"Did you miss the part where I went over to her house, met her family, played football with her brother, and taught her how to play the guitar? That's a lot of goddamn work to get laid, Jules." I raked a hand through my hair. "I want it, but it's not all I want."

"And that's what you told her?"

"Something like that."

Julian chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "You said straight up that you wanted to get into her pants and then tried to convince her that you also wanted more?"

I crossed my arms over my chest with a shrug. "I'm not into fooling anyone. Unlike her. She's lying to herself about what she wants."

He seemed to think that was funny. His lips quirked behind the bottle of beer. "Oh my god, dude. She's not lying to herself."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and Julian's smile grew even though his next words dripped with exasperation.

"I saw you over there, Gray." He pointed toward the front entryway. "You were yelling at that guy about some shit, and she was looking up at you like you were her goddamn hero."

Something lurched in my chest, but I brushed it off.

"She was drunk."

"Maybe, but drunk eyes don't lie."

I tried to ignore the way his words made me feel. I wished I could have seen that for myself, and then maybe I could trust it.

"Those were the eyes of a girl who wants romance, Everett," he added. "That's what she wants from you. Not to be told she gets your dick hard."

A laugh got caught in my throat. "You don't know Nessa."

She was more likely to roll her eyes at a romantic gesture than to kiss me. And the way her breath caught when I told her I wanted her, my erection kneading between her legs—that couldn't be faked.

"You're right. I don't know her," Jules said, lifting his beer with a shrug. "But I know girls. I have five fucking sisters, and I hear them talking about this crap all the time."

No wonder Julian took on the role of team big brother.

"Look, I know you're a straight shooter. But girls' brains operate in circles, Gray." Julian stabbed his temple with a finger. "Circles, my man. You're going to have to run some laps on the practice field to prove you're worth somethin' before she gives you playing time."

I had to resist rolling my eyes. "This isn't a game, Jules," I said, repeating exactly what I'd told Nessa.

He laughed. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean there ain't strategy involved."

Strategy. I could do that.

I could definitely do that.

***

Sunday mornings were usually pretty quiet in Ackley Hall. People stuck to their own rooms, either snoozing away the hangovers from the night before or catching up on homework.

I didn't have a hangover, though. Perks of hardly ever drinking. And I'd finished up my homework before heading to the party last night. So while everyone else was snoozing or studying, I spent my morning trying to hunt down my asshole roommate, who never came back to the room last night. Not that I knew of anyway.

And even though I was fucking pissed at Brodie, he was still my friend. Concern zipped through me when I thought about how he'd been acting.

I texted Jules first, but when he got back to me that Brodie hadn't crashed at his place, I threw on a sweatshirt and headed out the door.

And that's when I heard her.

I nearly burst into the room, but then I remembered....strategy.

Nessa's voice was chilling. That was the best way I could describe it. She didn't have perfect pitch or an unparalleled tone, but there was soul to it. Feeling and angst. Artistry was about making connections with your audience. And when she sang, I felt it. That goddamn connection.

Hovering outside her door, I listened closer. I didn't recognize the song she was playing this time. It was something soft, something sultry. I heard Madie's giggle, and Nessa paused to say something before she kept playing.

The need to interrupt vanished as I sat there, listening. I doubted I'd be able to cut off her playing anyway. Instead I focused on the chords that I heard, on the melody slipping under the door. I couldn't make out the words, but that was okay.

All I needed was the melody.

Eventually, I pulled away. There was still the problem of Brodie I needed to figure out. But before I walked away, I sent her a text.

Me: Sounds good, Adler.

Nessa: You're still a creep, Wilder.

Fuck, I shouldn't have told her my middle name. It did things to me when she used it. No one used my middle name, and for good reason.

Me: And you still sound like a fucking angel.

Nessa: Thank you for last night.

I raised a brow in surprise as I walked out of Ackley Hall. I didn't think she'd bring it up.

Me: Anytime. How are you feeling?

That was where my luck ran dry. She didn't reply again.

Later that afternoon, after I located Brodie at Jonah's house and gave up on talking to his ass, I stopped at a coffee shop near campus. It was artsy and quaint, the type of place I could see Nessa hanging out in.

Fuck, she just lingered in my brain didn't she? Annoyingly often, she was on my mind. Grabbing the coffee I ordered, I carted it back to campus.

And then I left it in front of Nessa's door. No note, just coffee.

She would know.

Romance and strategy. I could do that.

💗

the next few chapters will be of the *gala*
can't wait!

xoxo