Losing Memphis: A NA Sports Romance (NE University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

  I hold my hands up. “No funny business here. I’ll be a good boy. Honest.”

  Memphis

  I tried to act uninterested. After the last party I had come to, when he acted disgusted by me and took off like his ass was on fire, I’d decided that at this party, I wouldn’t give him the time of day. We saw how long that lasted … about one minute and seven seconds. What can I say? He had a weird way of convincing me to stay.

  I have no idea why I agreed to follow him upstairs into his room to hang out. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing right now. Guys like him don’t just hang out with girls. They expect sex. Or sexual favors. And I’m no expert in either of those topics. Even if I were, I’d need to remember, he’s a damn player. And not just on the field.

  “Let’s just watch a movie. Sound good?” he suggests.

  I eye him cautiously, causing him to grin.

  “We can put pillows between us if you want. You know, so that I don’t try any … what did you call it? Oh, funny business,” he says.

  I watch as his lips twitch in humor.

  “Are you going to mock me all night? If so, I will gladly go back to my apartment. I have a long list of shows to catch up on and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.”

  Remaining his cool and collected self, he grins. A playful look in his eyes. “Ooh. Ben & Jerry’s. What flavor?”

  “The Tonight Dough,” I deadpan. “Obviously.” I mean, are there actually any other flavors? I think not.

  His face scrunches up. “You sicko. Cookie dough is gross. Chocolate Fudge Brownie is where it’s at.”

  My mouth hangs open. Is he for real? “You don’t like cookie dough? Are you even human?” Pretending to be scared, I widen my eyes. “I might need to leave before you murder me since you’re clearly a psychopath,” I say. My mind is blown.

  He shrugs. “Got sick on it once when I was little. My mom had left a bowl in the kitchen to go change the laundry. I ate all of it before she got back, and I got sick. I mean, really fucking sick.” He grimaces. “Never again have I even looked at cookie dough without my stomach turning.” He rubs his stomach at that last part.

  “Well, I suppose since you have an acceptable reason for not liking cookie dough, it makes it a little better.” I pause. “Only a little though.”

  He falls back on his bed and puts a pillow beside him. Then, he pats the other side. “Sit down, Marvel. I won’t bite. Not too hard anyway,” he says with a wink.

  His voice is so … smooth. Also straight-up cocky. Yet it sends tingles right down to my lady parts. He’s so sure of himself. While it does drive me crazy, it is also a huge turn-on.

  Slowly, I make my way over to his bed. I’m hyperaware of the fact that it probably has so many cooties from all of the girls he’s banged on it.

  “Well, are you going to sit down, so we can watch a movie or what?” his voice drawls after watching me hover over his bed.

  My face involuntarily scrunches up. “That depends. Will I need to go to the campus clinic if I sit on your STD-infested bed?”

  He shakes his head. “I wash my sheets after anyone stays here. I swear it.”

  Unable to help my smart-ass mouth, I fire back, “Wow, your electric bill must cost a fortune with the amount of times you use the washing machine then.”

  He chuckles lightly, but it’s obviously forced. “My sheets are clean. But if you want, you can lie on me instead,” he coos, his eyes twinkling with humor.

  I shake my head and act annoyed, though really, the thought of lying on top of him … well, it does all sorts of things to me. Things I don’t want to admit. I bet his body is so warm and he smells delicious.

  What the hell, Memphis? Why are you thinking of the way he smells? Good God.

  Reluctantly, I lie down on the opposite side of the bed while he busies himself, finding us something to watch.

  “Captain Marvel?” I ask, seeing his selection on the screen.

  “I figured you were a fan.” He stops. “Or are you not? Please don’t tell me you just wanted to look sexy. Don’t get me wrong; you look sexy as hell. And while I sure do appreciate your choice in costume, I love Marvel movies—really any superhero movies actually. So, it’s a major turn-on to think that you might too.”

  “I love all of the Marvel movies,” I answer quickly. “And basically anything and everything superheroish.”

  He laughs. “Superheroish? Huh.” He nods. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

  My dirty thoughts were correct. He smells of pure and utter sexiness. Clean and fresh while also hot and intoxicating, all wrapped into one luxurious package. A few days ago, if you had told me I would be in a bed, watching a movie with Lane Rivers on Halloween night, I would have told you that you were on crack. Yet here I am. And for some odd reason, I don’t want to leave. Not yet anyway.

  I want to actually live. I want to make a stupid decision that I’ll most likely regret when I wake up tomorrow and come to my senses. I want to grab the bull by the horns and do something completely out of character. Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.

  I want his lips on mine. I want to know what Lane Rivers’s kiss tastes like.

  Lane

  Fuck, this girl intrigues me. Which is crazy in itself. Not because she isn’t hot because, let’s face it, she’s hot as hell and she has a sexy body to go with her angelic face.

  I haven’t been interested in anyone since my senior year of high school. I know I can’t take it any further than tonight. I will never take anything with anyone further than one night.

  Right now though, I want to soak in as much time as I can with this mystery girl with a face that looks like she came straight from heaven. But I can see something behind her innocence, just waiting to be unleashed.

  Kicking her shoes off, she lies down on the bed next to me. The sweet scent of cinnamon sugar fills my nostrils, and for whatever reason, it turns me on. Her hair is blonde, but she has dark brown brows and lashes. So, I know she’s not naturally that color. I feel really drawn to her, but I don’t want her to think I am a fucking weirdo or a serial killer, so I try not to stare at her for too long.

  And her eyes … those bright blue eyes could bring a man to his knees. Honestly, I’m afraid they’ll hold me hostage.

  The movie starts, and of course, we both get sucked in. It’s actually nice to watch this with someone else who’s a nerd when it comes to these movies. Not that I wouldn’t prefer for us to be making out or for me to be peeling her costume off. Because I would—no denying it.

  We comment back and forth about different parts in the movie. A few scenes that I think are great irritate her. It’s funny how two people can see things completely differently.

  The movie ends, and as the credits roll, I move onto my side and peek over the pillow that’s serving as a barrier between us. “So, what movie next?” I ask her.

  “You tell me, Rivers,” rolls off of her tongue so smoothly.

  If this girl isn’t confident in herself, she’s sure as hell fooling me. The way she talks, carries herself, and comes back at me with smart-ass remarks makes her appear so comfortable in her own skin. I find that hot.

  The girls I typically sleep with—jersey chasers, as we call them—sure, they seem confident. But it’s clear as day that a lot of them aren’t. A lot of them likely have daddy issues, and that’s why they sleep their way through the entire football team. This girl though? She isn’t like the rest. She’s a rare gem. I might not be interested in pursuing her past this night. But I can acknowledge that there is something special about her.

  She flips onto her side and faces me. Now, only the pillow is keeping the distance between her hot body and mine. I don’t want to push my luck and spook her. But part of me just wants to see how far I can take it. The questions run through my mind. How far would she let me go? Would she let me in for a kiss? Let me run my hands up her legs and see if that ass feels as good as it looks? I think there’s only one way to find out.

  Grabbing the
pillow, I toss it onto the floor. She watches me carefully, but she doesn’t ask me why I did it.

  Reaching over, I touch her cheek. Slowly dragging my fingers down to her chin and tipping it upward. She tenses slightly, but she doesn’t tell me to stop or push me away.

  Taking that as a green light, I move my lips toward hers. To my surprise, she leans forward, meeting me halfway.

  Soft, plump lips connect with mine. The taste of Big Red gum on her breath is enough to drive me wild. Her lips part, giving me the go-ahead to continue.

  Thank fucking Christ.

  I’m painfully hard now. And all I want is to push this girl as far as I can.

  Her tongue slips into my mouth.

  Fuck, she tastes so good.

  Biting her lip gently, I pull at it slightly with my teeth. Causing the smallest, sexiest moan to escape her. I glide my hands down her back and to her ass, giving it a slight squeeze. And as I suspected, it feels as good as it looks. Full and thick. My hand snakes around to the front, and she isn’t stopping me.

  A loud thump outside the door startles us. Causing her to pull away and turn her attention to where the noise came from.

  “Drunk idiots, I’m sure,” I growl, pissed off that they disturbed whatever was about to go down. I had done my best not to spook her, and instead, some drunk dumbass did. Awesome.

  Her eyes glazed over, her hair a mess, and that beautiful face flushed, she begins to get up. “I should get going. Ava is probably wondering where I am.” Her voice is small. Almost sounding … embarrassed.

  “You should stay. Please.” My words catch me by surprise. What is it about her that has me craving more?

  Her eyes widen, just by a fraction. “I just … I figured I’d, you know, get out of here. Head home.”

  Disappointment fills my gut, and that scares me. Normally, I’d love a chick to leave without me having to actually tell her to leave. Despite what the campus thinks of me, I have a heart, and I hate hurting women’s feelings. “You don’t want to hang out for a while?”

  “I, um … I should just go,” she says, stumbling over her own words, cheeks growing an adorable shade of pink.

  “Just stay.” I softly pull her arm so that she sits back down on the edge of the bed. “A little while at least. I promise, this time, I won’t try anything.”

  She eyes me cautiously, no doubt debating what to do.

  “Please?” I ask.

  Finally, she nods and lies back down on the bed. “Okay.” She still sounds so unsure.

  I never usually have to work this hard to get a chick to hang out with me. Maybe that’s what’s different about this girl. She doesn’t act as if I’d hung the moon and all the stars, like all the others do. I’m so used to everyone praising me and kissing my ass. It’s nice to be treated as a … human.

  After tonight, I won’t see her again. I won’t reach out or call. I won’t try to look her up on Instagram or ask around campus about who she is. That’s the truth. I won’t be the player turned good by the girl who played hard to get. I will never be that guy for her—or anyone else for that matter.

  twelve

  Memphis

  After watching Captain Marvel and most of Captain America, my eyes are getting heavy. As much as I try to fight it, I know if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to fall asleep.

  I texted Ava after the whole make-out sesh happened. I didn’t give her the knowledge that we’d kissed, obviously. But I told her we were just watching movies and not to wait up. She had other girlfriends here anyway that she was meeting up with, so she didn’t mind a bit. Of course, she texted me a string of eggplant emojis and inappropriate memes. That’s Ava though. Always with her mind in the gutter. Also, she’s a helpless romantic—unlike me. I’m the opposite. One might even consider me to be slightly … frosty at times.

  The thing is, I was completely clearheaded when I let him kiss me. But I was also tired of thinking and being scared of life all the time. I was exhausted from being responsible, overly cautious, and put together. I wanted to be careless. No, I needed to be careless. Even if it was stupid. And I’ll admit, it was probably stupid. Okay … it was stupid. Yet I don’t regret it. Not really anyway. The feeling that ignited inside of me when his lips touched mine? That feeling made it so that I really couldn’t regret it even if I wanted to. Not to mention, when his hands gripped my ass, I’d never felt so … sexy.

  I crane my neck to glance behind me at Lane, only to find him sound asleep. I study the slight fullness of his bottom lip. And his strong facial features and his picture-perfect skin.

  The fact that I got to make out with one of the hottest guys on campus tonight should sound rewarding. But I know better than to think it has a thing to do with me. A guy like Lane Rivers—along with his roommates, Trent and Mason—will sleep with anyone who will give it up to him. The realization of that causes my heart to sink.

  I begin to slide out from his hold, but it tightens, and he pulls me snugly against him. I can feel his heartbeat against my back. His body is so warm. A peaceful feeling comes over my body right now.

  What would it hurt to just take a quick catnap?

  I’ll wake up in a few hours and do the awkward walk of shame. I’m too tired to walk down past the partygoers right now anyway. Never mind the walk home.

  Bad choice number one was making out with NEU’s own personal playboy. Number two will be falling asleep in his bed.

  With that thought, I allow myself to drift off into a deep sleep. Which surprisingly comes extremely easy against the hardest, sexiest body that I have ever been this close to.

  “Please no!”

  Lane’s deep voice pulls me from my sleep. Startled, I shoot straight up in bed to see what the hell is going on.

  Before I can figure it out, he jolts beneath the covers again.

  “Please!” he pleads. “You can’t just leave me. You can’t. I’m begging you.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I feel as though I were in a dream. Scratch that. A nightmare. He can’t be talking to me. Could he?

  Turning toward him, I find one of the saddest sights I’ve ever seen. His entire face crumples as he sleeps. Tears roll down his cheeks as his huge stature shakes in hysterics.

  “Abby, please don’t leave. I ca-can’t lose you … please, Abby, no.”

  I watch as a grown man completely breaks down. But not just any grown man. One who is labeled as one of the toughest football players at this campus. He’s known to take hits and to give hits. Seeing him in this condition … well, it’s absolutely heart-wrenching.

  On one hand, I feel so uncomfortable, lying in bed with a man who is obviously dreaming about another woman. But on the other, his voice is enough to break my heart into a zillion pieces. The way his usually carefree face has turned into something so … tortured and broken, it’s absolutely horrifying to see. I feel sick. It’s clear that something is haunting him. And her name is Abby. Whoever she might be.

  Somehow, I don’t think a guy like Lane Rivers would want a girl seeing him in this state. I feel it inside of me that he would be humiliated even though he shouldn’t.

  Not wanting to wake him up, slowly and quietly, I climb out of the bed.

  His pleading turns more into whimpers until he’s no longer speaking at all. He’s just crying, his whole body trembling. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid, like wake him up to comfort him. That would be awkward for us both.

  After sliding my shoes on, I take one last look at the man I barely knew a few hours ago. Yet, somehow, I feel like we now have something connecting us even if he doesn’t realize it yet. I have seen him more vulnerable than likely anyone else on campus. Someone who I thought was so careless and had an easy life might not have it easy at all. It’s clear that he has something going on, deep-rooted inside of him, causing him this pain.

  But then again, that’s not my issue. And he isn’t actually my friend. Hell, he didn’t even ask me for my real name.

  Yes, the feel of h
is lips against mine will forever be etched in my brain, and the sound of his cries will probably haunt me long after tonight. But I know I have no choice; I need to forget about this night with Lane Rivers. After all, he probably already has.

  thirteen

  Lane

  Two Weeks Later

  Walking into the kitchen, I find Mason sitting on the barstool, eating cereal. Wearing the same shit-eating grin that he always does.

  Taking a sip of his orange juice, he nods at me. “Look at you, up early on a Sunday and shit. Good job during yesterday’s game, man. You were on fucking fire.”

  Making myself a cup of coffee, I wink. “Aw shucks, Mase,” I joke back. “Thanks. Teamwork makes the dream work,” I throw out some cheesy-ass line, knowing it’ll put a smile on Mason’s face. He’s all for that type of shit.

  He surprises me when he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he shakes his head. “I’m serious, Lane. You’ve been going to sleep at night instead of staying up, drinking. Waking up earlier, getting extra workouts in. Trent’s noticed it too. We’re proud of you, man. You’re getting your shit together.” Taking a bite of cereal, he shrugs. “Took you long enough.” His signature grin returns.

  Though I hate that he had to add that last part in there, he’s not wrong. I fucked off long enough to earn the remarks thrown my way. “Thanks, I think?”

  Jumping up from his seat, he slaps me in the stomach. “Oh, it’s a compliment, ol’ boy. Keep it up. We need to be laser-focused. All of us. You hear me? Laser. Fucking. Focused.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s one to talk. He spent the beginning of senior year chasing a redhead while Trent’s been infatuated with a girl he calls Sunshine—he doesn’t know I’ve learned his little nickname for her. Her actual name is Cameran.

  Mason’s smile turns into a confused frown, and I know a question is coming my way. “What did cause you to get your shit together though? If you don’t mind me asking.”