But first things first.
Needing to hear Sam’s deep voice, I give him a quick call. He picks up almost immediately. God, but I love this feeling of anticipation that skates through me whenever I’m about to talk with him.
Which is kind of hilarious considering that I’ve talked to Sam on the phone for years and have never felt this kind of eagerness zip its way through me.
“Hey, babe.”
Yep… Love that, too.
The little endearments that fall so easily from his lips...
They strum something deep within me.
“Hi.”
“Heard you ordered some pizza. Save a few slices for me?”
I snort. “Sorry, you’ll have to fight Mia for the leftovers.” And she’s like a freaking barracuda when it comes to sharing Peppino’s Pizza. So good luck with that.
With a long exaggerated sigh, he says, “Nah, not worth it. She’ll just end up winning in the end.”
Damn right she will. Mia loves her Peppino’s pizza. There’s no way in hell she’ll part with a slice. Not even Golden Delicious has that kind of power. Thank goodness she didn’t divulge that little pet name to the girls earlier this evening. I would have seriously killed her.
Changing gears on me, he cajoles in a voice that arrows straight down to my core. “Any chance I can talk you into spending the night?”
By the low dip of his voice, I know exactly what he has in mind too. And it doesn’t involve sleeping either…
The sudden ache between my legs has me instantly going over all the reading I still need to get through. It’s at least a couple of hours worth. As much as I would love to see Sam, I can’t. But after listening to almost half the girls on my floor talk about him in one manner or another, I have the strange impulse to mark my territory.
Which would be Sam.
I really should feel kind of embarrassed by such a ridiculous, not to mention primitive, jealousy-driven urge, except… well… I don’t.
Like at all.
Sam is mine and I freaking want everyone to know it. Especially some of these girls who think they’ll be partaking in my leftovers.
Not going to happen, bitches.
Not.
Going.
To.
Happen.
Flopping onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, cradling the slim phone to my ear. “I wish I could, but I still have way too much studying. I’ll probably be working until one or so.”
“You could study over here,” he tries wheedling, “I promise to make it worth your while…”
“And exactly how will you do that?” Even though I know damn well how he’ll do it, I still love hearing him talk dirty to me.
Chuckling, his deep voice bottoms out, turning all low and gravelly. “Baby, you know exactly what I’m going to do to that sweet little pussy of yours.”
My thighs automatically clench. And I can’t help the tiny little moan that falls from my lips. Because, yes, I can just imagine all the delicious things he’ll do.
“I need to taste you, Vi. I haven’t had you on my tongue in at least forty-eight hours. Come on baby, come study over here. I’ll leave you alone… for a while.”
I groan. My clit is all but throbbing a steady insistent tempo in my panties. “Yeah, we’ve tried that before. Remember? All you do is distract me from the work I need to get done.”
He snorts in response. “If kissing you and running my fingers over that gorgeous body of your is now considered distracting, then I’m guilty as charged.”
“Of course you are,” I quip, humor lacing my voice, “which is exactly why I’m staying put. I’ll spend tomorrow night over there, promise.”
“Oh, fine… killjoy.” He sounds like a petulant two year old who hasn’t gotten his way.
“Killjoy, my ass!”
Those words have him suddenly growling, “You don’t even want to know what I’d like to do to that gorgeous ass of yours.”
I shoot up on my bed before fairly screeching into the phone, “Sam!”
“I’m just saying…”
But there’s laughter brimming around the edges of his masculine voice, so I don’t think he’s actually serious. Although, who knows with him… He’s got a lot more kink than I would have ever suspected.
And God help me, I like it.
A lot.
Although what’s he’s talking about… yeah, I’m not too sure about that.
“You can just put those ideas right out of your mind, buddy,” I huff barely able to keep the laughter from invading my voice.
“Awww, come on, babe,” he pleads. But I can tell he’s having a hard time holding back his own humor. Sometimes I think Sam just enjoys fucking with me.
Both literally and figuratively speaking.
And he absolutely loves talking dirty, loves it when a deep blush stains my pale cheeks. He gets this huge sexy grin on his face whenever he manages to shock me.
I shake my head even though he can’t see me do it. “I’m hanging up now. And when I speak with you tomorrow, I don’t want to hear any more ass talk. Got it?”
He grumbles before finally muttering, “Got it.” Then his tone changes, becoming more serious. “Night, babe.”
“Night, Sam.”
I can’t help but grin as I hit disconnect before settling in for a few more hours of studying.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam
Hurrying my ass across campus, I can’t help but notice the odd looks being aimed in my direction. If I didn’t know better, I’d think people were actually craning their damn necks trying to catch a glimpse of me. Which is… yeah… a little peculiar to say the least. What I can’t figure out is if it’s all in my imagination or if something is legitimately going on.
I mean, sure, even though there are about twenty thousand students here on campus, I’m not exactly anonymous. Barnett is a huge football school. All the players are well known. Even third stringers have cache around here.
And I’m no third stringer.
That being said, I’ve never commanded this kind of snap-your-head-around attention before.
I don’t like it.
Girls are pointing and smiling as I book past them. Some give me little waves. A few actually blush when eye contact is made. Then there are others, ones who are clearly more brazen, who give me huge wolfish grins as their eyes slowly run the length of me. I have half a mind to stop and ask what the hell is going on, but I don’t because I rolled out of bed late this morning. I was too cranked up after that phone call with Violet to fall asleep last night. So now I’m trying to hustle my way across campus to make my nine o’clock class on time.
Five minutes later, I’m sliding into my usual seat in the back of my environmental law and policies class. Somehow I manage to make it right on time. Huffing out a breath, I pull my laptop free of its case before firing it up. As I’m doing that, the back of my neck prickles with awareness. Almost as if someone is staring holes right into me. Or a bunch of somebodies. I swear to freaking god that half the students around me are now chattering even more than they were when I first walked in. And the professor has just started lecturing.
Seriously… what the hell is going on?
Whatever it is, it’s definitely getting on my nerves.
Glancing around, I notice that it’s mostly girls who are pointing and whispering, sending devilish little grins my way. Trying their damnedest to catch my attention. And the looks they’re giving me… Christ… it’s like I’m naked or something. I swear one of them just licked her lips.
All slow-like.
No lie.
I mean, what the hell is that about?
I’m not Roan King or Liam Garrison and I have zero problems with that. I’ve never wanted or, better yet, needed that kind of notoriety. Hell, because of my dad, I’m usually trying to fly strictly under the radar. I was treated to countless lectures before leaving for college about everything I did being a direct reflection upon him (yada-yada
-yada). And because my dad expects me to follow in his political footsteps, it’s been all but pounded into my head that I don’t want to do anything that will end up haunting me later in life when I’m actually trying to make a name for myself.
Some guys may not understand that at this age, they’re too short sighted to recognize the ramifications of their actions, but I do. I’ve lived more under the microscope than a lot of these people and I’ve seen firsthand just how opponents and the media blow even the littlest bit of gossip out of hand.
Plus, I’ve seen what they do to Roan. Shit gets made up about him all the damn time and there’s not much he can really do to stop it. Things get twisted and turned until it doesn’t even resemble the truth.
So I don’t have Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat or anything else that’s going to leave behind a social media trail. Because once you put crap out there, the potential for damage is there forever, always dogging your heels.
Because I’m actually interested in environmental law and could see myself practicing it, I try to keep focused on the material being discussed. But I’m distracted by the three girls off to the side who keep throwing looks my way. Every time our eyes connect, they offer up hopeful little smiles.
It’s disconcerting. I’ve never spoken to any of them before.
And all of sudden they’re trying to catch my attention?
Right in the middle of class?
Yeah… it’s just plain weird.
Ignoring them, I continue taking notes, answering questions, and contributing to the discussion when I feel I have something worthwhile to add.
But still… that odd feeling that has been gnawing at me ever since I first stepped foot on campus this morning just won’t go away. By the time class is dismissed, I’m twitchy and irritated. I just want to know what the hell is going on because something is definitely up. It’s like I’ve been left out of some epic joke.
Or, worse, I’m the butt of it.
It’s actually starting to grate on my nerves.
As I stand to leave, because I just want to get the hell out of here as quickly as I can, the three girls who have been glancing my way for the entire hour, suddenly block my escape. They’re staring at me with shy little grins plastered across their blushing faces.
I have no idea what to make of that.
When I don’t say anything in greeting, the red head standing in the middle clears her throat. “Um, we were just wondering if you would sign our pictures.” That’s when I notice each of them holding a sheet of paper in their hands. But I’m not able to make out what the image is.
My brows snap together in confusion. Since I’m already feeling irritated, my voice whips out, sounding harsh. “Sign your what?”
The auburn haired girl next to the redhead quickly jumps in, “Our pictures.” She gives me a look like I should already know what the hell she’s babbling about. “Will you autograph them for us?”
That bad feeling sitting in the pit of my gut, yeah… it just keeps growing. Feeling impatient to get away from them, I sling my backpack over my shoulder. “Sorry, you have me confused with someone else.”
That’s when the redhead shoves the thick glossy looking sheet into my hands. I have no other choice but to glance down at it. As I do, it feels as if the floor disappears from beneath my feet.
What.
The.
Freaking.
Hell
Is
This?
My brain completely blanks. This… can’t possibly be real. It has to be photo shopped or doctored or something crazy like that.
Except…
Except that’s my bed.
In my room.
And I’m naked.
As in I-have-absolutely-no-fucking-clothes-on.
My brain keeps telling me this has to be some kind of prank or joke or mistake, but I suddenly realize with gut wrenching clarity that it’s not. This photo isn’t a mistake. It’s real. Because that’s me. That’s my bed. Those are my fucking sheets crumpled around my thighs. And there’s my bare ass right smack in the middle of the damn shot.
My mind is racing, whirling, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for what I’m now staring at. How the hell could something like this even happen?
I mean, who…
Who could have done this?
Again my gut clenches as my brain spins out of control.
There’s only one person who could have taken this photograph.
Crushing the picture in my hand, I give all three girls a dark glower. Dark enough to have them backing away en masse. Just as I’m about to leave, I decide to rip the other two pictures from their hands as well.
“Hey!”
“Those are ours!”
“Dude, we just wanted you to sign them for us!”
Not responding, I ball my hands into tightly clenched fists before stalking from the room and then the building. Anger and hurt build and swirl within me.
I can’t believe this.
More than that- I can’t believe Violet would do something like this.
The rest of my shit-for-day doesn’t go any better than it started. Only now Violet is trying to frantically reach me. Her messages fill up my voicemail box. Even though I don’t answer, she continues texting about every twenty minutes.
But I just can’t deal with her right now.
In fact, I don’t want to deal with any of this bullshit right now.
By the time I finally drag my ass to football practice later that afternoon, I’m impatient to get out on the field and pummel the shit out of someone. I’m so fucking pissed off. People have been hooting and hollering at me all day long.
Those fuckers on the lacrosse team just couldn’t resist throwing a slew of wisecracks my way. Of which many had to do with, yeah, you guessed it…the crack of my ass. I’m totally fed up with it. There’s a massive tension headache brewing at the base of my skull that’s on the verge of exploding.
And I know it’s only a matter of time before my parents catch wind of this. My father has a whole crew of people working around the clock, trolling the internet and social media sites for anything that has the potential to hurt his campaign efforts. Anything they’ll have to spin in the best possible light. My father is extremely careful, not to mention proud, of his untarnished reputation. There aren’t any skeletons hidden in his closet. At least none his opponents have ever found.
I seriously can’t believe this shit is happening right now.
I really can’t.
Pushing my way through the locker room doors, I finally yank out my earbuds. It was the only way I could drown out all the people catcalling my name. As the day wore on, it only grew in intensity. If I hadn’t tuned it out, I would have totally lost my shit. And this situation is fucked up enough without me adding to it by going off the deep end.
Throwing my bag down on the bench, my eyebrows lower and a growl of displeasure rumbles up from deep within my chest as I see a huge eight by ten picture of my naked ass taped to the locker. Grabbing the photo, I rip it off before crumpling and hurtling it clear across the room.
Fuckers.
Nothing but juvenile little fuckers.
Ignoring the guys who are already getting into their gear, because I can hear them yelling, throwing asinine questions my way, I focus on pulling out my pads and suiting up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dylan and Roan walking into the locker room before heading in my direction. Their lockers flank mine. I swear to God, if either one of them makes a single joke about this situation, I will unleash the fucking beast that I keep tightly locked under control. Just because I seem easygoing and amicable doesn’t mean I’m weak. That I can be messed with.
That’s a misconception.
An erroneous one at that.
If anything, it only makes me more dangerous. Do you realize just how much self-control it takes to keep your temper locked up tight? To not lead with your fists when that’s exactly what you’d r
ather be doing?
Losing your shit is ridiculously easy. There’s absolutely no self-discipline involved at all. And that’s not me. It’s not who I was raised to be. I was taught to be clearheaded, to think before acting. To not allow raw emotion to guide me. To carefully weigh my actions as well as the consequences.
Using your anger to propel you forward, as a motivator, takes strength of will and character. This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever felt close to losing control over myself. Over my emotions.
What cuts even deeper is that I wouldn’t be teetering on the brink of insanity if Violet weren’t involved in this fiasco. After years of wanting her, patiently waiting for her, she’s finally mine. I really thought she would protect our relationship. I assumed what we had mattered as much to her as it did to me.
This picture feels like a blunt edged knife sticking out of my fucking heart. Even though I’ve thought of little else all day long, I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she did this to me.
Feeling restless and frustrated, I rake a hand through my hair.
Fists clenched, I simply wait.
I wait for one single word to erupt from their damn yaps. I’ve already been pushed to the limit today. One measly syllable from either of them and I’ll completely lose my shit all over their damn asses.
Taking seats next to me on the bench, Roan is the first to clear his throat, “You okay, man?”
I jerk my head into a tight nod not really wanting to discuss the photograph or anything else that has to do with this clusterfuck of a situation I now find myself embroiled in.
Neither of them utters a word as we continue gearing up. But that doesn’t stop two sophomore assholes from bellowing out a few choice comments. Pissed off, I throw down my helmet before straightening my shoulders. If I have to beat the shit out of a couple loud mouths to get them to shut up, then I’ll do it.
At this point, I’m aching to use my fists.
Just as I get ready to walk over there, Roan stills me with a hand to the shoulder. And because this has been one hell of a messed up day, I let the pair of them knock a few heads together instead. Within moments, all of the noise dies down until the entire locker room is as silent as a church for Sunday services.
Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) Page 22