Campus Heartthrob
Jennifer Sucevic
Campus Heartthrob
Copyright© 2021 by Jennifer Sucevic
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, palaces, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Contents
Also by Jennifer Sucevic
1. Brayden
2. Sydney
3. Brayden
4. Sydney
5. Brayden
6. Brayden
7. Sydney
8. Brayden
9. Sydney
10. Brayden
11. Sydney
12. Brayden
13. Sydney
14. Sydney
15. Sydney
16. Brayden
17. Sydney
18. Sydney
19. Brayden
20. Sydney
21. Brayden
22. Sydney
23. Sydney
24. Sydney
25. Brayden
26. Sydney
27. Sydney
28. Sydney
29. Sydney
30. Brayden
31. Sydney
32. Sydney
33. Sydney
34. Brayden
35. Sydney
36. Brayden
37. Brayden
38. Sydney
39. Sydney
40. Brayden
41. Sydney
Epilogue
Campus Player
The Girl Next Door
About the Author
Also by Jennifer Sucevic
Campus Player
Claiming What’s Mine
Confessions of a Heartbreaker
Crazy for You (80s short story)
Don’t Leave
Friend Zoned
Hate to Love You
Heartless
If You Were Mine
Just Friends
King of Campus
King of Hawthorne Prep
Love to Hate You
One Night Stand
Protecting What’s Mine
Queen of Hawthorne Prep
Stay
The Boy Next Door
The Breakup Plan
The Girl Next Door
Chapter One
Brayden
“Yo, Kendricks, grab me a cold one when you come back,” Asher Stevens yells as I walk into the kitchen.
I give him a one-fingered salute to let him know that I heard him loud and clear. That guy drinks like it’s his sole mission in life. By the time he graduates college this spring, he’ll be in desperate need of a liver transplant. Although, I’ve got to give him credit—he’s at the top of his game on the field. I have no idea how he does it. It’s one of the great mysteries in life that I’ve stopped trying to unravel.
With a yank, I open the refrigerator door and scan the shelves. What I find is a depressing sight. Other than a shit ton of beer and Gatorade, it looks more like a barren wasteland.
Bunch of fuckers.
Don’t these guys realize that we live half a mile from the nearest grocery store? Hell, with a few taps on their phone, groceries would magically appear outside the front door.
We’re all supposed to be pitching in with the domestic chores. One look around this place will tell you that isn’t happening. The toilet on the first floor resembles a sketchy Chia Pet. Plus, it smells like the penguin house at the zoo.
I avoid it at all costs.
With a grumble, I pull out one of the last bottles of water and twist off the top before guzzling down a quarter of it. Then I grab a Miller Lite for Stevens. I’ve tried broaching the subject of his alcohol consumption a few times, but it’s not like I’m his mom. The dude is twenty-one years old; he can do whatever the hell he wants.
Carson, one of the other guys who lives here, saunters in as I slam the refrigerator door closed.
Carson Roberts and I go way back. We’re talking elementary school. He’s practically part of the family. The brother I never had but always wanted. He was there when I needed him and got me through one of the toughest times in my life. Even at twenty-one years old, I realize that friends like that aren’t easy to come by.
Football is what we originally bonded over. We’ve been playing together since second grade. First, flag football before moving on to a middle school team and then high school. Luckily, we both ended up at the same college and roomed together freshman and sophomore years before finding a house with a couple of teammates. Like me, Carson will enter the draft in the spring. He’s one of the best tight ends in the conference and was an All-American last year. The guy is one smart motherfucker.
Before I can open my mouth, he says, “Heads up, Kira just walked in.”
Goddamn it.
A groan escapes from me.
That girl takes crazy, psycho stalker to a whole new level. It’s almost as impressive as it is frightening.
Scratch that. It’s just plain frightening. There have been numerous times when I’ve come home, afraid I’d find our pet rabbit boiling away on the stove.
Just kidding, we don’t have a bunny.
But still...
You get the point I’m trying to make. It’s fucking scary. And she won’t leave me alone. I’ve tried everything, going so far as to tell her that it’s never going to happen between us.
I mean, come on. Of course it’s not going to happen!
I’ve never even locked lips with this chick, and she shadows me around campus and turns up in my classes. I’m this close to taking out a restraining order. The girl needs to move on. Or move away.
Preferably the latter.
For the most part, I’ve enjoyed my time at Western University, but it’ll be a relief to get the hell out of here after graduation. There’s only so much of this crazy behavior I can put up with.
Carson’s shoulders shake with undisguised mirth. “That’s what you get for being so damn pretty.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter. Just because he’s a good friend, doesn’t mean he won’t give me shit.
He shrugs. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Take her to bed and show her that you’re not as amazing as she thinks you are. Aren’t you notorious for your starfish impersonation?”
Again...
“Up yours.”
Not offended in the least, a smile breaks out across his face. “You know what you need?”
I’m almost afraid to ask.
My stoic silence doesn’t stop him from continuing. “A girlfriend.”
Is he nuts?
“No, thanks,” I snort.
I have zero interest in one of those. Especially right now. I’ve got enough going on with school and football. This is a big year for me. The season is underway, and, so far, we’re number one in the conference. The goal is to take home a championship and win a bowl game. That would be an amazing way to end my four years with the Wildca
ts. Then I can turn my attention to the NFL with the combine and draft in the spring.
“I’m serious,” he says, pushing the subject.
Yeah, that’s the scary part.
I shake my head, ready to put an end to this conversation.
Over the years, there have been a few girlfriends. What I’ve discovered is that they’re more of a hassle than they’re worth. Division I football is more like a job, and my schedule is packed tight. My life revolves around practice, lifting, film review, travel, and games. Most of the chicks I’ve dated get bent out of shape when they aren’t moved to the top of my priority list and end up forcing me to choose.
Want to guess what gets downsized?
I’ll give you a hint...it’s not football.
After the first couple of times it happened, I decided having a permanent girl in my life wasn’t worth the price of admission. Sure, it would be nice to find someone to spend time with, but that’s just not in the cards. And quite frankly, I’m not sure it will be in the near future. Not with wrapping up my last year of school and hopefully getting picked up by the pros. It’s just easier to screw around with the jersey chasers on campus. For the most part, they understand that sex is nothing more than an hour or so of mindless pleasure. They get to brag about banging guys on the team, and I get a little stress relief to take the edge off.
“Then Kira would have no choice but to leave you alone,” he continues as if I haven’t already nixed the idea.
Like I need to get myself entangled in one bad situation just to get out of another... What the hell would be the point of that?
“She should have backed off when I flat-out told her that nothing was ever going to happen between us,” I mutter.
“Again, if you weren’t so pretty, girls wouldn’t lose their damn minds over you.” His lips curl around the edges before he tacks on slyly, “Mr. Campus Heartthrob.”
I wince at the title I’ve won three years in a row.
Talk about embarrassing.
Sure, I’ll admit it—I was flattered at first. Who wouldn’t be? I got a ton of pussy by winning that stupid competition. My teammates were jealous, and I didn’t mind rubbing it in their faces. As difficult as it is to imagine, screwing your way through all the girls vying to sleep with you gets old after a while. Now the damn thing is just a nuisance. Like I need these chicks trailing after me, following me around all over the place.
Nope. I’m over it.
Last year, I didn’t enter the contest and still managed to win. How is that even possible?
My lips flatten before I grumble, “I prefer to think of it as ruggedly handsome. No dude wants to be called pretty.”
“Please,” he snorts, “your face could be plastered on a billboard. I’m surprised there aren’t more crazies coming out of the woodwork just to sleep with you.”
“Bite your tongue,” I grunt. I don’t even want to imagine that. I’ve got my hands full as it is. The last thing I need is to add more bullshit into the mix.
“I don’t know, man. I think the girlfriend idea is worth considering. It could be the solution to all your problems.”
“Or just give me more headaches.” I shift my weight and take another drink from my bottle. “There’s only one flaw with your plan. There aren’t any girls I’m even remotely interested in.”
His brows jerk together. “Who said anything about this being a real situation? I’m talking about finding a friend who could pretend to like your ass for a couple of weeks. Someone who wouldn’t mind doing you a solid.” He tilts his head. “Don’t you know anyone like that who fits the bill?”
Hmm. I suppose a ploy like that could work. Except...there aren’t any females who I’m strictly friends with. Even the ones who pretend to be platonic end up throwing themselves at me at some point. And the ones who get all drunk at parties and start sobbing about how much they love me are the absolute worst.
“Not really.” I shake my head. “Any other bright ideas?”
He nods toward the backdoor. “I guess you could always try to make a run for it. Lay low at Rowan’s girl’s place for a couple of hours until Kira gets bored and finally takes off.”
Yeah, the last time I did that, she waited around for five hours. Let that sink in.
Five.
Full.
Hours.
The woman is seriously tenacious. Must be part of the stalker job description.
I turn the suggestion over in my head. Heading over to Demi’s would give me a chance to see Sydney. And I rarely pass up an opportunity to do that. There’s something about the blonde-haired, green-eyed soccer player that has gotten under my skin. Kind of like an itch that is impossible to scratch. And steroids haven’t done the trick to cure it, either. If she’s anywhere in the vicinity, my attention is locked on her.
My guess is that it’s because she refuses to give me the time of day. There’s definitely something to that old adage about wanting what you can’t have. And what I can’t have is Sydney. That girl wants nothing to do with me, which is precisely why I never miss an opportunity to mess with her.
Trust me, I’m more than aware that I’m not doing myself any favors. But still, I get perverse satisfaction in provoking her ire. All I have to do is open my mouth and she goes off the deep end. The girl has a real temper. I’ve seen it rear its head on more than one occasion. My guess is that she would be a real wildcat in the sack. Not that I’ll be finding out anytime soon.
Or, more than likely, ever.
As tempting as it is to flee our house for the next couple of hours, I have a test to study for. I might have every intention of taking my game to the next level by getting drafted to the NFL, but it’s still important I do well in school and leave with a degree in hand. Even the most talented players are only one career-ending injury away from being let go. I’m taking every precaution to make sure that my future goes off without a hitch. Even if that means doing something other than playing professional football.
So, ducking out of here isn’t really a choice. I drag a hand through my hair and consider my options before blowing out a steady breath. “All right, I’m going to need you to create a distraction so I can sneak upstairs without her noticing.”
A smirk curves Carson’s lips as he folds his arms across his chest and leans against the counter. “How am I supposed to do that? She’s sitting in the living room with the perfect view of the front door and staircase.”
Christ...this girl.
I shouldn’t have to sneak around my own damn house. “I don’t know,” I snap in frustration, “just think of something. I need about twenty seconds to get upstairs.”
It doesn’t escape me that I’m taking out my aggravation on someone who doesn’t deserve it, which isn’t like me, but I’m over this situation. I want this girl to leave me alone. If I honestly thought sitting down and having yet another conversation with her would put an end to this infatuation, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I’ve done that several times and she refuses to move on. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m not interested.
He shakes his head as if I’m the crazy one for going to such lengths to avoid her, and I’ll tell you what—I’m beginning to feel like it. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises.”
As soon as Carson exits the kitchen, I realize that we didn’t come up with a code word. I almost leap after him but stop myself at the last moment.
Damnit! How am I supposed to know that the coast is clear without a code word?
I seriously can’t believe this is what my life has come to. I’m skulking around my own house to avoid some chick.
But what else can I do?
Waste the next hour or so fighting off her unwanted advances?
No way. I don’t have time for that.
Grumbling under my breath, I tiptoe across the kitchen like it’s boobytrapped before arriving at the wide entryway that leads to the dining room. The only furniture in the space is a scarred table that has seen better days—m
ore like better decades—and four chairs. Everyone is crammed together, chilling in the living room. The loud, rowdy babble of voices fills my ears.
Just as I work up the courage to peek around the corner, Carson materializes on the other side. We both startle, and my heart slams against my ribcage.
“Fuck, dude...you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I point to the living room. If he’s with me, then who the hell is occupying Kira? Even more frighteningly, he might be drawing her attention in this direction. That’s exactly what I don’t need. “What are you doing in here?”
“It’s not necessary,” he says with a shrug. “She’s gone.”
No way.
My brows shoot up at that unexpected bit of good news. “Really?” Well, hot damn! Looks like I’ve lucked out for once.
“Yeah. I did a total sweep of the first floor. She’s not in the living room, and I checked both bathrooms. They’re empty. She must have gotten bored and taken off.”
Huh. That was way easier than anticipated.
All of my muscles loosen with relief. Until now, I hadn’t realized how tense I’d become. “Thanks, man.” I slap Carson on the back. “I owe you one.”
“No worries.” He shoots me a grin. “I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.” Before I can respond, he swings around and strolls into the living room.
I grab my bottle of water along with Asher’s beer before following him. Once the beverage has been passed off, I do a cursory inspection of the immediate vicinity just to make sure Carson isn’t fucking with me. Although, it’s doubtful he would do that. We’ve been friends for way too long for that kind of bullshit. If there’s one guy I trust, it’s him. Rowan Michaels would be a close second.
Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 1