King of Campus

by Jennifer Sucevic

  The man smiles but it’s obvious he has a differing opinion regarding the issue. Instead of addressing Roan’s statement, he says instead, “Well, good luck to you, son.” For the first time since he arrived at the table, the man’s warm eyes slide to mine before he tips his head. “You two kids enjoy the rest of your evening. Get rested up for the big game on Saturday.”

  Roan says goodbye to both of them before his eyes settle on mine again. Once the couple leaves the restaurant, I quietly ask, “Doesn’t that get old after a while?”

  Gazing around, I notice quite a few people staring in our direction. I’m reminded of Chad from the smoothie shop and the pictures that ended up online.

  Looking somewhat resigned, he shrugs his broad shoulders. Without another word, he suddenly reaches behind him and pulls out a well-worn ball cap before tugging it onto his head. Then he pulls it down low. It’s the same one he wore when we headed over to the library. He must carry it around with him when he doesn’t want to be recognized. Not that it does the trick because honestly, whether or not you can see his face, people would still stare.

  Roan is so tall. He must be about six three or four and he’s broad in both the shoulders and the chest. When he’s wearing a t-shirt like he is now, where it totally hugs his cut upper body… well, he’d draw attention for that alone.

  The guy is seriously built like a Roman gladiator. He’s all thick chiseled muscle. Add that gorgeous face into it and you have girls tripping over themselves just so he’ll turn those beautiful turquoise hued eyes in their direction.

  I know firsthand because, as much as I don’t want to, I feel the same draw myself. Something within me clamors for his attention.

  “Comes with the territory. If I wasn’t a good ball player, people wouldn’t give two shits about me.”

  Well, that’s debatable. Whether Roan played ball or not, women would still find him ridiculously attractive.

  I snort. “Ah, I don’t think that’s true at all.”

  He levels me with a hard look. “Yeah, it is. People care about me because of my talent on the field. It’s always been that way.”

  It’s quietly that I say, “I’m sure you’re parents care about you for you, not football.”

  Almost instantly his eyes soften. “Yeah, they do. But everyone else just wants a piece of me.” Glancing around the restaurant, he pitches his voice lower. “Ever since I picked up a football, it’s what my life has been about. Consequently, it’s all people want to talk about. Or maybe they think it’s all I can talk about.” His lips curl self-mockingly. “Like I’m just another dumb jock with no other interests outside of the sport I play.”

  Surprised by the sharp bitterness of his words, I simply stare at him from across the rectangle table that separates us. Is it totally crazy that I feel kind of… sorry for him? I mean, does that even make sense?

  He’s Roan freaking King, for goodness sake.

  Tentatively, because I’m not quite sure if it’s a mistake or not, I reach out until my hand gently covers his larger one. As if surprised by the gesture, his eyes fall to our now connected hands. Mine do the same as my breath catches in my throat.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Seriously?

  But I just can’t seem to help myself.

  I like him.

  And the more time I spend with him, the more those strangely tender feelings grow and flourish. If you had asked me a month ago when I spilled my drink all over him, I would have told you in no uncertain terms that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with a football playing Neanderthal like Roan King. I would have said he was a dumb jock coasting through college on his football prowess and by nailing as much ass as he could.

  But somewhere along the way, my opinion of him has slowly started to change.

  Yeah… I still think he’s a player but now I’m kind of wondering if he’s just using women the same way they seem to use him. I almost want to shake my head as that thought settles within my mind because I can’t believe I’m actually making excuses for his behavior.

  Before I can say anything, he leans towards me, his eyes on mine. Holding them captive with their blue-green intensity. “Do you realize you’re the only one who never talks to me about football?”

  When I merely stare in confusion, he continues, “Even my professors talk to me about the season and turning pro.” His body continues straining towards mine. “There were two last year who didn’t even grade my papers. They just gave me A’s.”

  My eyes widen at his hushed admission. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I found a few errors and brought it to their attention. Both just smiled and patted me on the back. Told me not to worry about it, that I had bigger concerns to focus my energies on.”

  For a long moment, neither of us says a word. We simply watch each other silently. I’m actually flabbergasted that something like that could happen. Especially here at Barnett. I mean, this is a top notch school. Academically rigorous. Challenging.

  His face tenses. “You can’t tell anyone about that, Ivy,” he mutters the words under his breath. “I’m serious.”

  I nod but can’t say I don’t feel conflicted about it. That’s not really fair to everyone else who has to work their asses off to pull good grades. Even though Roan isn’t taking advantage of professors who are willing to hand out A’s just for being a top recruit here on campus, I’m sure there are other student athletes who do get by because of it.

  Once again, it’s slammed home just how wrong I was about him.

  Angling my body towards his, I finally whisper, “I won’t tell anyone about it.” Even though it goes against everything I believe in, I don’t want to break my word to him. “I promise.”

  His eyes hold mine for a long moment before finally sliding away. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything to you. I’m not looking to jam anyone up.”

  “I know… But it’s not right.”

  Nodding, he acknowledges my words. Yanking off his ball cap, he plows his long fingers through his dark hair before pulling it back over his head so his face is somewhat shielded from view.

  Our extra-large pizza arrives as we sit in silence. Once we both take a slice, the mood at our table slowly begins to lighten. Not really caring that Roan is sitting across from me, I take a huge bite. My eyes flutter shut as the perfect mixture of crust, sweet yet zesty sauce along with pepperoni, mushrooms, and sausage slams into my taste buds. I think a little moan of appreciation slips out of my mouth.

  God, but I’ve missed this!

  Needless to say, the food in Paris was definitely a culinary experience. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. Fresh baked pain au chocolat (croissants filled with dark chocolate) in the morning along with un café noisette (an espresso with a little cream), croquet monsieur (a grilled ham and gruyere cheese with a fried or poached egg on top) for lunch, crepes which they sell right out on the street, and escargot. Some people may not like them, but I love escargot and there was a tiny cafe a few blocks from school where I would go all the time.

  So, yeah… I ate well while I was away. It’s fairly amazing I didn’t pack on a ton of weight. But then again, when you’re in Paris, you’re hopping on the metro and walking almost everywhere.

  But this pizza… I’ve really missed it. I can’t help but shove another huge bite into my mouth before savoring all the wonderful flavors.

  Like a total glutton, I all but gobble up the first slice within a matter of minutes. I hate to say it, but I’m not even aware of Roan sitting across from me. I’m in a little place called pizza nirvana. Just as I’m reaching for a second piece, my eyes collide with his. He’s just sitting there staring at me with a look of astonishment on his face.

  When I quirk a brow, he finally says, “I’ve never seen anyone polish off a slice like that and I eat with three hundred pound dudes who play football.”

  Unable to help myself, I start chuckling. I’m not a shy eater. Never have been. I have a fast metabolism that L
exie regularly talks smack about because I can eat practically anything and never gain an ounce while she merely looks at cake and gains five pounds. Although, I think that’s a lie, because that girl can polish off cake like nobody’s business. Especially chocolate. But I also know it’s all the hours I spend in the studio that helps to burn the calories and keep me slim. And yeah, I’m not going to lie- it probably has a lot to do with genetics as well.

  Unashamed, I shrug my shoulders. “I’m hungry.”

  “Clearly.” He shakes his head before taking a big bite and swallowing it. “And here I thought I’d have leftovers to take home for breakfast.”

  “Oh, hell no. If there are leftovers, I’m calling dibs,” I shoot back quickly.

  “Maybe we should just order another pizza to go.”

  I give him a little wink before taking another huge bite. “Make it two.”

  He laughs before we both go back to polishing off the extra-large pizza he ordered. When I’m finally stuffed, I finish off my water before sitting back. There’s no denying that my belly hurts just a bit. I can’t believe I scarfed down three slices of pizza and I did it all in front of Roan. Most girls probably can’t eat anything more than a few salad leaves and a carrot stick and here I go and wolf down three huge pieces in the blink of an eye.

  But you know what?

  I don’t care. I like to eat. As long as I keep myself healthy and in shape, it doesn’t matter. I kind of wonder if seeing me stuff my face is a total turn off for him. Curiosity gets the better of me before I finally start fishing around for an answer. “I bet when you take girls out, they barely eat anything at all.”

  Almost quizzically his brows draw together before he finally shrugs his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know how much a girl typically eats. I’ve never been out with one before.”

  My mouth falls open in surprise before I finally clarify, “You’ve never been out on a date?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  Clearly I need to dig a little deeper here. “Why not?”

  Glancing away, he finally says somewhat evasively, “Just haven’t.” Then his eyes arrow back to mine before he clears his throat. “I’ve never been interested in having a relationship and it wasn’t necessary.”

  Necessary?

  What the heck does-

  Oh. I see...

  He doesn’t need to take a girl out and treat them nice to get what he wants at the end of the night. Women fall all over themselves to have sex with him.

  Sitting back in my seat, I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.

  When I remain silent, Roan clears his throat looking just a bit uncomfortable. Well… good, he should feel like shit for acknowledging something like that. “You’re the first girl I’ve taken out. This. Right here.”

  And just like that, the shield of ice that had dropped over me at his words begins to thaw. “Oh.”

  Our eyes cling for a long moment before he finally breaks the silence between us. “How about I tell them to box up our pizzas and we head out.”

  I smile, feeling sort of thankful we’ve dropped the conversation but at the same time, maybe wishing we had pursued it. Roan has me feeling all kinds of conflicted. And I hate it. I’m not used to being messed up over a guy.

  Not even Finn affected me this way.

  “I’m, ah, going to use the bathroom before we leave.” I scooch out of the booth before heading towards the back of the restaurant where the restrooms are located. After I’m done, I run my fingers threw my hair and slick on some lipstick before heading back to the table. Because my mind is so full of Roan and the feelings I’m having for him, I end up slamming right into a hard body.

  Feeling very much like a dumbass, which is getting to be the norm around here, I mutter a quick apology. “Sorry about that.” The guy who I bumped into grips my upper arms, holding me steady. When my eyes finally lift, I gasp with surprise, “Finn!”

  His lips lift marginally but it’s clear from the hard edged glint in his eyes that he’s not happy. “Hi, Ivy.”

  It occurs to me that he probably knows who I’m here having dinner with. I’ve been so focused on Roan and… well… the pizza I was so busy inhaling, that I didn’t pay much attention to the people around us.

  Apprehension ripples through me as I take a hasty step back, trying to slip out of his grasp. “Well, I, ah, need to-”

  He cuts in swiftly, “Get back to Roan?”

  My lips sink. His tone is just this side of shitty. And in all honesty, he has no reason to be angry with me. We’ve been out one time since I’ve been back. We’re not together. He doesn’t get to ask questions and expect answers or be pissed that I’m out to dinner with someone else.

  Straightening my shoulders, I arch a brow before glancing rather pointedly down to where his fingers are still digging into my upper arms. “Can you please let me go?”

  A scowl moves across his face as his voice lowers. “I can’t believe you’re out with him. That guy is nothing more than a douchebag.”

  His words have me gritting my teeth in anger. “You know what, Finn, it’s not your concern who I spend time with.”

  Instead of letting go, he hauls me closer. “I thought you were going to give us another chance, Ivy. We were good together. Are you really going to throw everything we had away?” He cocks his head towards the main room of the restaurant. “For what? That guy?”

  My mouth almost tumbles open at his words. I threw away our relationship? That’s rich! “I think you’re the one who threw away our relationship instead of trying to make it work.” I don’t mention all the pictures Lexie sent me, but I kind of want to.

  He rolls his eyes before saying through gritted teeth, “We already talked about that. I couldn’t hack a long distance relationship at that point. I’m more mature now.” His eyes sear mine in frustration. “But apparently you’re more interested in being a part of King’s pussy posse than having an actual relationship.”

  I gasp at the crude words he throws at me. I’m just about to let loose on him, when I hear-

  “Ivy, is everything okay?”

  Both Finn and I turn simultaneously towards the end of the hall. Roan stands about fifteen feet from where Finn is still holding me. Instead of letting go, Finn’s fingers dig even deeper into my arms. I can tell by the stiff set of his chin that he’s pissed off.

  And probably itching for a fight.

  I give Roan a small smile as I wrench myself away from Finn. “Everything’s fine.”

  Even though he’s talking to me, his heated eyes never stray from Finn. “You ready to go?”

  Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, my eyes slide back to Finn’s. His are blazing with both resentment and anger. “Yes, I think we’re done here.” I hope Finn realizes that I don’t just mean this conversation… I’m done with him as well.

  When Finn doesn’t say anything more, I quickly move towards Roan who has somehow turned out to feel like a safe place in my life. As soon as I reach his side, one arm immediately slides around me as he holds two boxes of pizza in the other.

  We’re halfway to the door when he asks tersely, “Are you seeing him?”

  I can’t help but glance up before answering, “No. We went out a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

  His arm tightens around me before we push through the heavy glass doors. “Good.”

  I don’t say anything to that because I’m not exactly sure what it means. And I’m not sure what I want it to mean either.

  Or maybe I do… maybe I know exactly what I want it to mean.

  Chapter Twenty

  Roan King with his arm wrapped around a female… and he’s not leading her towards the bedroom? WTF??? Is it possible that our favorite Barnett football player is actually falling for someone? Speculation is running rampant. KingOfCampus.com

  Just as we’re about to reach Roan’s black SUV in the parking lot, his feet suddenly grind to a halt. Surprised, I glance over at him before quickly s
earching the surrounding vicinity. But there’s nothing. Nothing that should have him stopping so abruptly.

  And certainly nothing to put that strange look on his face.

  Again I scan the area before finally realizing there are two older men walking towards us. My guess is that they’re in their mid to late forties. Both of their eyes are focused on Roan as they continue moving in our direction. Which doesn’t necessarily seem out of the ordinary.

  People always seem to gravitate towards him. They think just because he’s a well-known local athlete, they can stop and talk to him. So I assume that maybe these two are fans like the elderly couple in the restaurant. Or the guy from the smoothie shop. But Roan’s entire body has tensed which is definitely odd. I’ve never seen him be anything less than gracious and cordial when dealing with fans.

  When the two men are about fifteen feet from us, I quietly murmur his name but it’s like he doesn’t even hear me. Or if he does, he doesn’t bother acknowledging it. Unfortunately, there’s no longer time for me to question what’s going on because a moment later, both men stop in front of us.

  “Hey, Roan. How’s everything going?”

  “Good.” His shoulders relax just a bit. “Everything’s good.” As if suddenly remembering I’m there besides him, his eyes slide to mine before arrowing back to the guy standing directly in front of him. “We just grabbed something to eat at Peppino’s.”

  “That’s where we’re headed.” His eyes encompass the pair of us. “Been dying for a pizza all week.”

  A few seconds slowly slip by as the conversation stalls. Not sure what to do, I hoist a friendly smile before thrusting out my hand. “Hi, I’m Ivy.” I’m trying to make sense of what’s going on here. Because it’s definitely weird.

  When the man with the inky black hair smiles at me, I realize he has to somehow be related to Roan. They’re practically identical. Except he’s older. By a good twenty-some years.

  “Daniel.” He nods to the man at his side. “And this is my partner, Linc.”