I was close enough to the playing field for their tangy sweat to mingle with the crisp fall air at just the right balance. If we were any closer to the athletes' bench, the stench might have been a little overwhelming. The players ran around on the football field, but I couldn't absorb any of it. Or maybe I just didn't want to.

"First down! Yes!" Annika screamed and clutched my arm, her brown face joyous.

I jumped up and down with her, feigning enthusiasm. Her dark hair bounced on her shoulders with just the right amount of curl. Far more admirable than what was happening on the field.

"Isn't this great, Natalie?" Her dark eyes were glued to the action.

Annika's father was a high school football coach, and my theory was that, somehow, football had worked its way into her blood. If there was a game on television or if she could access it on the internet, she was watching it. An Exercise and Sports Science student, she intended to become a football coach herself. Annika worshipped the quarterback of our college football team, so here we were at yet another game.

Last year, our dorm room had been a haven for football fans, and now our off-campus house was headquarters for every fan of the game within a five mile radius. When I first met Annika, I tried for a few months to feign some level of enthusiasm, but I couldn't do it. Something about grown men running full tilt into each other didn't appeal to me. Some of the players obviously enjoyed the violence of the game more than the win.

"Yeah, this is an amazing game!" Which one of them would look best without his padding? Not that their appearance mattered. Hooking up with any football player made me feel gagtastic. What would we even talk about? I supposed that was the point—no talking. Still, the risk of an STD would be sky high and not worth the two minutes of moderate entertainment they'd provide. The guys on the team were weirdly popular with girls at our school.

Annika glanced at me before turning back to the field. "Yeah, your enthusiasm is overwhelming."

"Hey, I came." I rubbed my hands together. The cool fall air wasn't good for the circulation in my hands. My toes were starting to grow numb. "I also agreed to go to the after party at the frat house, which I never do."

"Yeah, you and Clay breaking up was the best thing to ever happen to my social life." Annika puffed her warm breath into her hands.

At the mention of Clay, my heart sank. He was still calling me even though we'd broken up at the start of the summer. We'd been together all of freshman year, but when he started dropping hints about engagements and kids, I bolted.

"So, how long is this game? Is it like three periods or something?" My dark red nails had a few chips. I should have painted them again today.

"Oh, my God," Annika huffed. "Seriously, Natalie, it's not that hard to figure out the basics. I get that you might not know what a two-point conversion is or what the kicker does." When I started to interject, she held up her hand, partially covered by the sleeve of her sweater. "Yeah, that one is easy. A football game is four quarters. It's like the coin version of a dollar bill."

She'd used that analogy before and it never stuck. "So, which quarter are we in?" Did we have the intermission yet?

"Fourth quarter. Soon enough, we'll be headed to the frat house to get drunk." Annika let out a loud whoop.

"If we're going, you've gotta get the nerve to speak to Johnny. You're not going to just gaze at him from afar, right?" One of the players running by drew my gaze with him. "Who's that?" The words left my mouth without me realizing.

She grinned. "Potential? Am I hearing potential interest? In a football player?"

"No, idle curiosity. You've dragged me to enough games now that his face looks weird to me." Weird was the wrong word. Familiar. He reminded me of someone.

While I did not like football in real life, I loved the TV show Friday Night Lights. Clear eyes, full hearts, can't lose. It was the one program Annika and I could agree on when we were hungover. The guy on the field looked like Vince or, as I later found out by looking him up on IMBD, Michael B. Jordan. My favorite character was Tim Riggins, but Vince was a close, close second.

"So, are you going to tell me or make me wait for the frat party?" The way he moved was stealing my focus. A shot of annoyance ran through me. Football players were not an option.

She laughed and nudged me with her shoulder. "I'm going to make you wait. I'm curious to see if you'll actually make an effort at this party instead of being a stick in the mud."

"I always make an effort." I raised my hand to flick my long black hair off my shoulders when I remembered I didn't have it anymore. Another breakup casualty? My long hair. Tucking my chin-length hair behind my ears didn't have the same sassiness.

The hotter than normal teammate was making me reconsider my stance on dressing up for the frat party. Developing a crush on a real-life player might make nights like tonight a little easier to stomach. Only if I didn't like him too much. Unlikely. No harm in looking.

Once I had someone interesting on the field, the time passed much faster than it ever had before. Maybe this crush was a winner? Time with my best friend and man candy. Best of both worlds.

The buzzer and whistle sounded to signal the end of the game, and we piled out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd, heading to Annika's car. We could walk to the frat house from our place, and it would give us a chance to change out of our warm, comfy clothes into something with a bit less fabric.

~ * ~

"Promise me you're going to talk to him."

The evening was brisk, but tolerable if we kept moving. The last vestiges of summer were turning into fall. I rubbed my arms to keep the goosebumps away.

"Yes!" Annoyance tinged her voice. "We have a bet. I can't lose it."

"I get your car for one week for all my classes and anything else and you take public transit." I removed my flask from my purse and swigged.

Usually, frat parties didn't interest me. I didn't trust their alcohol and often refused to go. My freedom present to myself after I broke up with Clay was the flask I was carrying. Boyfriend gone, alcohol consumption up.

We heard the house before we saw it. The music reverberated down the street, and as we got closer, the vibrations went through my feet and invaded the rest of my body. A shiver pierced me, and I looked up at the dark, almost starless sky. Unease blanketed me, and I took another swig from my flask before dropping it into my purse.

"You're sure about this?" I eyed the line to get in and took money out of my wallet for the cover charge.

When I turned my head, expecting an answer, she was enraptured by something. At the door was Johnny McDade. He was whispering something into his friend's ear. His sandy hair was damp from his shower, and his chiseled features were impressive even from a distance.

"Let's go." Annika took long strides toward the door.

We joined the line, and I took in all the other girls dressed in skimpy, sparkly clothes. The guys were in jeans and t-shirts. Criminal that girls got so dressed up while guys plucked whatever off the floor, smelled it, and threw it on, wrinkles and all.

Not that I was any different tonight. When I pulled my best outfit out of the back of the closet, a deep purple mini-dress, Annika gave me a look I knew well. While she might put on something like this without a second thought, I was a jeans and t-shirt girl.

At the top of the stairs, Johnny's shoulders lifted, his gaze focused behind us. He waved to someone with a hint of impatience. "Seb!" he shouted. He made a reeling motion with his hand.

I turned around, annoyed someone so far back was getting the VIP treatment. This dress wasn't meant for cold weather. It was stitched for the crush of bodies in a hot, sweaty frat house.

It took a moment for me to see who he'd signaled, but it shouldn't have. He was tall, broad and unmistakably the beautiful man I spotted on the field. Annika leaned into me and whispered in my ear, "Junior. Sebastian Swan. Running back. Not that you care about that part."

While he walked past us, my gaze traveled up and down his fit frame. If he was running, I'd let him catch me. Oh, God. Did I really just think that? Judging by all the other girls whose heads whipped in his direction, competition for his attention was a certainty.

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