Six weeks later

I wonder if it can possibly be as soft as it looks. Sitting in American History class, I contemplate the texture of Grace’s long, red hair. The thick mass hangs in a shiny curtain over the wooden back of her chair. So many fiery shades are contained in those strands; even her hair is complicated. She’s seated diagonally in front of me, not that she even knows or cares that I’m here. My eyes trace over her slowly, moving from her hair down to the pale strip of exposed skin where her shirt ends and her jean cutoffs begin. The metal portion connecting the top and bottom of the chair frames her lower back like a picture. And oh what a tempting picture it is. Two inches of her skin is enough to get my blood pumping. I’m pathetic.

Clancy kicks the side of my sneakered foot with his. My head turns in his direction catching his quirked brow.

“What?” I mouth the word. He tips his chin in Grace’s direction and smirks knowingly. Scowling, I shrug my shoulders and return my attention to the professor where it should have been all along. I don’t have time to waste pursuing a girl who can’t stand me. Especially one who dislikes me for no good reason.

The professor dismisses us and I jump to my feet. Slinging one of the backpack straps over my shoulder, I make my way to the door, merging with the rest of the departing students. As fate would have it, I find myself behind Grace, close enough to catch the familiar scent of her perfume. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla, good enough to eat. I’m not even going to let my mind think about that. Next thing I’ll be popping a boner in the hallway. Being this close to her is enough of an exercise in restraint.

“Ahh,” Grace shrieks falling back into me. My arms reflexively close around her, catching her lean frame.

“Are you okay?” My lips press to the delicate lobe of her ear. Her scent assails me, making my head spin. She pulls away, pivoting around to face me. Her eyes open wide when she realizes I’m the one who caught her before they flick to the classroom we just left and then back in my direction where they remain.

“Thanks for catching me.”

“No problem. Glad to help out.”

She shuffles to the side of the hallway and I follow, leaning a shoulder on the wall as we face one another. “Do we have history together?”

Raking my teeth over my lower lip, I nod. “Yes, we do.”

“Oh.” Her reply is so soft I barely hear it.

“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you around much.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Her answer is vague, but I don’t get the impression she’s giving me the brush off. It seems as though she doesn’t want to go into detail and I’m not going to press for more. This is the first time I’ve spoken to her since she stayed at my parents’ house in the Hamptons six weeks ago.

“Are you all settled in now?” Grace recently transferred to Boston University for her junior year on a full football scholarship.

She presses her pink lips together and tips her head to the side. “Pretty much. Between football, school, and…” she trails off as if she was planning to say something else and changed her mind. “I’m just really crunched for time.” She shrugs.

“The Terriers are killing it. You guys are undefeated,” I mention the football team she’s a running back for.

She smiles and my chest squeezes pleasantly. “We’re doing better than any of us thought.”

“I don’t know about that. Zeke’s been talking you guys up to me from day one.” My roommate, Zeke, is the offensive coordinator for the women’s team.

“That’s nice to know. I’m glad he has good things to say. Sometimes it feels like he thinks we suck,” she laughs.

My lips stretch wide in a large smile. Her tinkling giggle is adorable and the opposite of what I imagined it would sound like with her take no prisoners kind of personality.

“I bet he can be a dick, but I guess it’s paying off since you’re winning games.”

“Definitely. He can be moody all he wants, but if we’re winning, then no complaints.”

“So you’re saying he’s moody?” She raises her eyebrows in an ‘oh shit I shouldn’t have said that’ expression. “I'm gonna tell him you said that.” Her eyebrows rise another half inch and her bright blue eyes look enormous for her delicate features.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“Are you joking? I can’t tell with you.”

“Nope. I’m dead serious.”

She scowls. ”Why would you tell him something that’s going to piss him off and cause discord between us?”

“Why would you say something you’re not comfortable with him knowing?”

“I didn’t realize you were going to tattle on me like a freaking pre-schooler.”

“There is a way out of this for you.”

She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “There is, huh? Why am I not surprised?”

“Do you want an out or not?”

She sighs, “Yes.”

“Go to the frat party on Friday night.”

“I’m not going with you.”

The left side of my lips hook upward in a smirk, “I’m not asking you to.”

“Oh. Right.” She flushes pink and shifts her weight awkwardly.

“What’s it gonna be?”

“What time?” she sighs resignedly.

“See you at nine.” I chuck her on the chin. Leaning forward, I hover over her. “Don’t think of skipping out on me, Red.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grace’s tone is deceivingly innocent as her sky blue irises shoot sparks at me.

Winking, I step around her heading down the hall with a goofy grin on my face. I’m not sure what it is about verbally sparring with Grace that makes me feel like I could take on the world. She fires me up in the best of ways and gets my blood pumping. And not just to my dick.

Hot chicks are as common as a dollar bill. But finding one with intelligence, who’s not afraid to say what she feels, that’s like finding a rare object you’ve been searching for your whole life. I’m already looking forward to Friday night and what our potential interactions might bring.

Coach blows his whistle putting an end to the play. “That was better, but it’s still not good enough. Flynn, you need to stick with your assignment longer, and Trevor, I want to see more hustle from you getting to the end zone.”

“Yes, sir,” Flynn and I answer simultaneously.

The offense and defense line up and wait for Owen to receive the snap. I run a simple slant and break free, heading toward the end zone. Owen fires a perfect spiral in my direction and it drops right into my hands as I notch up my pace the final five yards taking me into the end zone untouched. I do a Gronk spike with the ball and freeze in place as I look at my teammates. Posing, I flex my arms and shout, “Yeah, baby.”

Coach blows his whistle putting a stop to my antics. “Lincoln, how about ending the gun show and getting back to work.”

“Sure, but you agree that these babies are worthy of a show right, Coach?”

“Don’t push your luck, Lincoln. Get your ass in line with your teammates and run the play one more time.”

Owen calls out the count and the ball gets snapped to him. We run the exact same play once more with similar results. This time when I spike the ball, I kiss each of my biceps. Flynn laughs as I run back over.

“Are we still going to C’s tonight?”

“I’m in. What about you, Owen?”

“What about me?”

“C’s tonight?”

“Yeah, I could use a night out.”

“I’m coming too,” Nolan, our first string running back, interjects.

Owen swipes his arm over his sweat dotted forehead. “Sounds good. Let’s finish up so we can have an ice cold beer ASAP.”

“Guys, I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” I call out when I notice Zeke sitting at the bar. I slide onto the open stool next to him. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Owen texted and told me to meet you guys.”

“It’s good to see you out and about and not moping at home.”

“I don’t mope.”

“Dude, since you and Amelia decided to keep your distance until the end of her football season you’ve been mopey like that donkey dude on Winnie the Pooh.”

“Eeyore?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a little touched?”

“No, I’ve never heard that expression before. What’s it supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve got some loose screws in that head of yours.”

I laugh, “Who doesn’t?”

“I won’t disagree with you on that, but you my friend might have more than the average person.”

I raise my shoulders in a quick shrug. “You know who my dad is. Did you think I’d come away completely unscathed?” Lifting my hand I flag down the bartender with a smile. She struts over.

“Well, well, well. Haven’t seen you since the party at your house.” She looks me over as if she’s a cat and I’m the cream she wants to lick up. There may have been some licking involved the night of the party she mentioned.

“Hi, Sandy. How are you?”

Leaning forward on the bar she invites me closer, displaying her ample cleavage. My eyes reflexively skim over the dark valley before moving up to connect with her gaze. She smiles flirtatiously. “I thought I’d hear from you by now.”

My fingertips carelessly drum on the wood. “I don’t remember saying I’d call.”

“After what we shared it seems like the polite thing to do.”

“Really? You mean after we fucked like we’ve fucked before? And it’s never meant anything more than sex to either one of us.”

“Maybe not to you, but it has for me.”

I shake my head. “I’m glad you cleared this up, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not interested in a relationship, Sandy. Don’t act like I haven’t been upfront with you. Any time we’ve hooked up in the past it hasn’t been a problem, so why the change of heart now?”

“I like you. You’re hot, you’re a football player, and your last name is Lincoln. What’s not to like?”

Ah, there it is. The real reason she likes me - my dad’s bank account. Son of a bitch. Am I not enough on my own? Do women really need another reason to like me?

“How about you grab me a Sam Adams and we end this conversation?”

“I’ll be right back with your beer.” She spins away, moving down the bar to talk to another customer. My teeth clench, flexing a muscle in my jaw. I hate being used for my last name.

“That must suck,” Zeke offers before taking a sip of his Heineken. He’d been so quiet and still, I’d forgotten he was sitting next to me.

“What?” I feign ignorance.

“Being liked for your money.”

“Yeah. It does.” I surprise myself with my candid answer. “I mean, isn’t this face and body enough to keep them happy?” I jest, covering up how much I’m bothered by this situation.

“When you meet the right girl she won’t care about your last name or how much money is in your bank account. She’ll only care about you.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about it. I have no intention of settling down until I’m well into my thirties.”

“You say that, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“Yeah, but you can’t fall in love if you don’t let yourself.” Zeke chuckles. “What?”

“You can’t stop yourself from falling in love, Trevor. Trust me, I know.”

“You and Amelia are an unusual situation. I don’t think you can compare your circumstances to most.”

“The circumstances don’t matter, dude. Haven’t you heard the expression, ‘The heart wants what the heart wants’? There’s a reason why people quote that saying. It’s true. It doesn’t matter if you plan to avoid love. If it’s meant to be it will find you when you least expect it and make you its bitch.”