PROLOGUE
HENRY
Austin, Texas. Alpha Phi Frat House.
“Sorry, Henry, but I don’t owe you an explanation. It’s over, and that’s all there is to it.” Elle’s big brown eyes show zero emotion, so I put on my game face. I’ve never been chucked like this. Never. Because I’m fucking Henry Walton, one of four heirs to the Walton oil fortune, famously handsome, and the most anticipated NFL college draft pick since that asshole who got signed with the Steelers.
Elle’s giant brain must be broken.
Standing in the doorway of our two-story, Southern-charmer of a frat house, I step outside in my Pirates PJs bottoms onto the porch. I carefully close the door so the guys inside, who are fellow Pirates, don’t overhear. They’d never let this go. Football players live to fuck with each other.
“You—you’re rejecting me?” I point to my bare chest, snarling down at her little round face. Sure, she’s got a genius IQ and is the likeliest person to build a tele-transporter or some geeky Star Trek shit like that, but I’m what the ladies call a bona fide catch. Six-five, two hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle pleasure, orgasm philanthropist, future football Hall of Famer, and—fucking bonus point—I’m an all-around fun guy. Elle can’t deny it. My ability to turn her frowns into smiles is irrefutable. It’s the reason she bought that raffle ticket, the prize being a date with me, during our fraternity fundraiser. It’s the reason she said she wanted me to show her a good time after she won. Which I did. Several “good times” in one night and about fifty more “Oh, Henrys!” since then.
So why is she dumping me? Not that we were official. But, dammit all to hell, I like her. I really fucking like her. Normally, I don’t go nerd, but Elle suckered me with her cute little gap-toothed smile and spunky personality. Okay, and she’s a blonde, which I like, and she has nice jugs.
I swallow down a tangled mess in my throat. “Fine. Plenty of fish in the sea. I’m cool with that.”
“Errr…you don’t look cool. Do you need to sit?”
“Just a hangover,” I lie. “Big party last night.” Actually, I can’t remember what I did. I can’t think straight.
Elle touches my arm, pity written all over her face. “Henry, we were never really going to work out. Even you had to know that.”
I slowly remove her hand. “Never gave it much thought.” Too busy living the dream and all that.
She shoves her petite hands into her pink overalls. “Well, I need more than a hot guy with big muscles. I need…” She blows out a long breath. “I need a man. One who will be there when things get difficult. One who’s had to deal with the real world. You only know screwing and football, and I respect that. I might even be jealous. But there is no universe in which your interests and mine could coalesce into a symbiotic relationship outside the bedroom.”
“Who says you even symbiotified me there?” No. That’s not a real word. And we both know I could fuck Elle all day long and never get tired of her. There’s this little squeaking thing that she does right before she’s about to come. Adorable.
Wait. No. Fuck that. It’s annoying. Just like her shrill laugh, obsession with spy novels, and stupid nerd jokes about black holes—“Two protons walk into a black hole, blah, blah, stupid science punch line, blah, blah.”
Good riddance.
But as I think those words, something deep inside sets off like a grenade. Boom. I’m pissed. I just can’t fuckin’ believe that she’s kicking my awesome ass to the curb and won’t even tell me why. Not the real truth anyway. Because even a guy like me with only above average intelligence can see that Elle’s little line about needing “a man” is bullshit. Men just don’t come any manlier than me.
Elle laughs, followed by a little squeak. My eyes zero in on that gap between her teeth. How had I thought that was hot? She looks nothing like a young Madonna.
Yeah, she looks more like Urkel. Only pale as shit with blonde pigtails and tape in the middle of her glasses. I’m the one who actually broke them, though. I sat on them after we screwed. She kind of got mad, and I offered to replace them ten times, but she just shrugged it off. “No biggie. What’s a nerd without a little tape? I’ll fix ’em later,” she said.
Elle finishes honking out a final laugh. I can’t believe I’m into her.
Was into her.
“Symbiotified. Oh, Henry. I’m going to miss your humor.” She grabs my arm and gives it a squeeze. “It was nice knowing you.”
I jerk my head. “Been nice knowing you, too. Good luck with your…math ’n shit.”
Fuck. That sounded lame.
Elle crinkles her nose. “Yeah. I’ll cross my fingers and hope those big scary numbers finally make sense.” She turns away and heads toward campus, shaking her tight little ass in her overalls.
Jesus, what was I even doing with her? I can get tens—ten cheerleaders, ten models, or ten of the hottest women at any party.
I snarl at the back of her head and clench my fists. “Stupid geek!”
Without slowing her pace or turning around, she throws up a middle finger. “Dumb jock!”
I can’t help but laugh. She may look like a helpless, lost little nerd begging for social ridicule, but I’ve yet to meet anyone with bigger balls. Male or female.
Stop it, Henry. It’s over. I gush out a breath of frustration. Fuck her. I don’t need anything but football.