Did Brady Lincoln, the Brady Lincoln, Mr. Tom Brady Has Nothing On Me In The Looks Department, really ask me to have sex with him? I couldn’t get out of that frat party fast enough. Especially after spilling my drink on Brady Lincoln. Oh God, I still can’t believe I spilled my drink on him.

I may have acted as if I didn’t know who he was, but I don’t think there’s a female on campus who doesn’t know of him. He’s the quarterback of our football team and he’s rumored to be good enough to make it to the NFL.

He’s way out of my league.

I’ve admired him from afar since the first time I saw him over a year ago. He made enough of an impression on me that I still remember the exact moment. I caught sight of him across the food court surrounded by an enamored group of hot girls. Seeing him across a crowded room sounds so cliché, but is exactly what happened. He was impossible to miss with his tall frame and broad shoulders. His gorgeous looks made my stomach flutter.

That particular day he had on a pair of low hanging jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. His muscular arms were bulging with every motion he made as he gestured with his hands explaining something to the group of giggling girls around him. I remember covertly studying him from the table I was seated at and wondering what it would be like to kiss him or to be held in those strong arms. I didn’t let myself daydream about it for long, though. I’m not some girl with her head in the clouds. I’m all about the hard truths of reality. Life has dealt me its fair share of difficulties and I’m not about to moon over some egomaniac baller.

Now, over a year later, I find him even more attractive and I know for sure he’s no one I want to be involved with. He’s a player - he’s a professional player. I can’t deny there’s something I find undeniably attractive about him and I can’t put my finger on what it is. All I can say is once you get a look at his face you can say goodbye to your heart because his dimple laden smile will steal it right from you - even when it’s directed at another girl. And all the smiles of his I’ve seen have always been directed at other girls - until tonight. When he flashed his flirtatious grin at me I had to fight the urge to smile back at him. When he asked me if I wanted to go back to his apartment it was all I could do to refuse him. Every part of my body wanted me to say yes - except my overworked brain. I can never get that sucker to shut down. Geez. Is it too much to ask for one night of risky behavior? I’d like one time where I don’t think everything through and allow myself to cut loose and have fun.

What’s it like to enjoy yourself and not worry about repercussions - to live in the moment and enjoy every second? I’ll probably never know because I’m too much of a control freak to ever let that happen. I plan everything out and spontaneous isn’t a word ever used to describe me. I’m responsible, predictable - boring. I wasn’t always this way, but fate has a way of changing who we are. All we can do is make the most of the ride we’re on and adapt with every sharp curve we unexpectedly travel.

Going to the party tonight was a big step for me, and my roommate Raine had to practically drag me there. As it was I left early. I couldn’t stay any longer.

Brady Lincoln is a hard to resist temptation and that scares me. Someone like him could destroy my orderly little world. He makes me feel things I don’t want to which worries me. I had to leave the party before I could go back in the kitchen to tell him I’d had a change of heart. I was afraid I’d beg him to take me to his apartment and then I’d let him do whatever nefarious things his wicked mind could think of. And I’m sure he can think of plenty. Even with my lack of savvy with guys I can think of a few things I’d like him to do to me.

I’m pretty sure Rob my high school boyfriend didn’t know what he was doing when we had sex. He couldn’t find my G-spot if his life depended on it. He couldn’t even manage to locate my clit and it’s not even hard to find. Still I’m not ignorant about how sex should be. I read books - a lot of books - hot books. I’ve got multiple book boyfriends and they can get me off way better than Rob ever could.

He never did get me off.

All my orgasms so far have been self-induced. I’m pretty good at one handed reading, but it would be nice to know what it’s like to have a guy touch me the way my book boyfriends touch their women. I want to know what it’s like for someone to take charge in bed and not fumble around trying to figure out what comes next.

I bet Brady doesn’t know the meaning of the word fumble unless it’s used in the context of football. I’m sure he’s all smooth moves and confidence. I bet he’d make me feel more pleasure than I can imagine, but at the same time I also know he’d have the power to cause me more pain than my heart can take. I’m not the kind of girl who can sleep with someone once and then be cast aside. I know that’s how he operates.

I need to keep my distance.

* * *

Monday sneaks up on me and I don’t want to go to class this morning. All I want to do is climb back in my bed and fall into a deep slumber. I didn’t sleep well last night. Thoughts of Brady Lincoln had my head spinning. I hate that I don’t even know him and he has this weird power over me. He can completely consume my thoughts even though we didn’t even engage in some lengthy conversation. Our total interaction amounted to under five minutes, but it was the most exhilarating five minutes of my life. I don’t know if my heart has ever pounded so hard unless I was exercising.

Somehow, I manage to make it through my first class without falling asleep, and now I’ve a break for over an hour. I head toward the cafe down the street from school, my mouth already watering at the thought of the large muffins they sell.

When I walk inside my nose is assaulted with the scent of fresh baked goods combined with coffee. I pause for a moment, close my eyes and inhale. I love this place so much I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a job here since I started my freshman year; even though I don’t have to work. I’m fortunate my stepmom Cindy has the financial means to pay for my schooling.

My dad was killed in a car accident when I was sixteen years old. I was with him and we were hit by another vehicle. It came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly like a thief in the night. And I guess thief would be an accurate description. After all, whoever hit us did steal my father from me - my forty year old father who had way more life left in him.

They never caught the person who was driving or found the vehicle that hit us. Everything happened so fast I didn’t even see what the other car looked like and there were no witnesses.

Me - I’m going to the store with my dad.

I text my friend Samantha from the passenger seat of my dad’s car. My father is a creature of habit and every Friday night he goes to the store at this time like clockwork. This time I decided to keep him company.

Sam - Can you sleep over tonight?

“Dad, can you drop me off at Sam’s? Can I stay over?” I glance over at him, waiting for his answer.

He smiles. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

Dropping my head down, I begin to type out a reply to Sam when our car is slammed into. The crunch of metal is so loud in my ears and the impact of the crash rocks us with so much force I bounce around even with my seat belt holding tight across my chest and my lap. My cellphone flies out of my hands and my fingers drop to clutch each side of my leather seat, holding on for dear life.

“Daddy, what’s happening?” I scream.

My dad loses control of the car, the steering wheel jerks from side to side in his hands as he tries to regain control.

“Hang on,” he shouts, never taking his eyes off the icy winter road. We begin to slide, the tires unable to find any traction on the treacherous surface. Time slows, every second dragging out. The tires hit the edge of the median and our car goes airborne. It seems like we’re flying through the air for minutes instead of merely a second or two. The vehicle lands on the driver’s side with a horrifying crunch and then flips over onto the roof with another ear deafening crack. The eerie screech of metal sliding on the pavement assaults my ears making an already terrifying situation even more so as we continue to move. I’ve never heard anything like this cacophony of sounds and I know I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. If I survive this.

The first few months that followed left me fearful of going to sleep. Each night I would relive it all over again. Even though I still hear all the sounds as well as see them in my nightmares, I can go months without dreaming about it at all.

The EMT’s lost my father en route to the hospital and they were never able to revive him. Miraculously, I walked away almost completely unscathed - physically anyway. I needed sixteen stitches in my forehead along my hairline. One for every year I had with my dad. Mentally, I know I’ll never be the same. Devastation like I’d never imagined became a part of my daily existence. It had always been dad and me. And suddenly I was alone.

Cindy never discusses the details with me, but I know my dad’s life insurance policy was large. He used to jokingly say if anything happened to him she’d be set to live the rest of her life with some boy toy. He’d kid that she should be the first suspect if he suddenly disappeared. While I haven’t seen her with any younger men, we do live comfortably, but not extravagantly. Of course, the reminder of where the money came from is never easy. She’s not great about communicating with me in general, never mind about details she doesn’t want to share. I don’t need to know how much money she received, I’d prefer some positive attention from her. I wish our relationship was different. She’s been my stepmother for as long as I can remember and I love her, but we’ve never been close. My dad and she were married when I was only a year old. My own mother signed her rights away as soon as I was born. She wanted nothing to do with being a mother and my dad couldn’t convince her otherwise.

Cindy has always been cold toward me, but at least she didn’t walk away. Things have gotten more strained between us and without my father as a buffer it’s more noticeable. I was my dad’s girl and losing him left a huge void. My own mother didn’t want me and I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally. If it wasn’t for school, I’m sure I would’ve gotten lost in the loneliness I sometimes feel. I use college as a means to fill an empty space inside me. Raine, my classes, studying - they all help me cope.

Paying for my coffee and muffin, I settle at a table near the large front windows to people watch. This cafe is on Commonwealth Avenue, right near Boston University. It’s a busy area and there’s a wide variety of people shuffling along the sidewalk – men and women in business attire, and students with bleary eyes from lack of sleep. And then there’s Will – or at least that’s what I call him. I don’t know his story, but I know he ‘will work for food,’ and he’ll do what’s necessary to survive. He’s on this corner every day like clockwork, his sign and cup in hand. I wonder what his story is? How did he get to this point in his life?

Are we all balancing on a fine invisible wire and the slightest thing can knock us off and send our lives into a tailspin?

After my father died it sure felt as if that were the case. Now, I try to make the most of each day, but I know I need to enjoy life more. I should stop holding back. It’s what my dad would want for me.

Resting my elbows on the small table, I cup my chin between my palms. I like to watch the couples as they walk past holding hands. Are they whispering secrets to each other or endearments meant only for them?

An older couple walks by and my eyes follow them. They’re holding hands and the woman leans into him, gazing up with a smile on her lips. She looks so in love, so completely enamored.

What’s it like to be with someone for as long as I imagine they’ve been? What would it be like to be so in sync with someone – to know what they’re going to say before they even form the words – to anticipate their every need so they might never want for anything?

I want that someday.

I want to know what it’s like to connect with someone on the deepest level. I want the kind of love not everyone gets to experience.

My daddy always told me I was one of a kind and that was a good thing. I remind myself of his words whenever I feel like a square peg trying to fit inside a round hole.

* * *

The rest of the week passes quickly by, but my professors have certainly piled on the workload. Getting good grades is important to me, I study during most of my free time. My obsessive exam preparation drives Raine crazy. She tells me I’m going to ruin my eyesight with all the reading I’ve been doing.

“Come on. This is ridiculous.” Raine throws her hands up in the air. “Get ready, we’re going out.”

I look up from the psychology notes I’m studying and blow my long bangs out of my eyes. “Do I look like I want to go out tonight?” I gesture at my grease stained t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.

She walks over and slams my laptop closed. “We’re going out. You’ve been holed up in this room for days now. The only time you leave is to go to class.” She shakes her head and looks at me with disapproval. “It’s not healthy to just study. You need a life outside of academia, Harlow.”

I know she means well, but life is so much simpler when I just focus on school and nothing else. Ever since last weekend when I met Brady I’ve been on edge. Everywhere I go I wonder if I’ll see him and when I don’t I’m disappointed. It’s gotten so bad my eyes scan the campus for his broad shoulders and blonde hair. They carefully peruse crowds looking for his sky blue eyes and toothpaste ad perfect smile. It’s pathetic, and I hate myself a little for it.

“Why would you do that?” I cross my arm over my chest. “I was in the middle of something important.” I narrow my eyes at her annoyed she touched my computer.

She glares at me, her hands on her hips. “You think everything is important. What could be more important than your own sanity? You’re a psychology major for God’s sake. You know how important it is to find a balance between hard work and fun.” She frowns at me. “This is not balance.” She curls her upper lip and looks me over, before gesturing at me. “This is a hot mess.” She snorts and starts to laugh.

Giggling, I throw my pen at her and watch her bat it away. She’s right. I am a mess. I’ll give her that. Maybe a break from all this studying would do me some good. “Okay we can go out, but I’m not going to any frat parties,” I warn her. I’m trying to avoid Brady Lincoln, not that he’d pay me the time of day if we saw each other. I’m more worried about my lack of control. I might throw myself at his feet and beg him to have his wicked way with me.

* * *

An hour later we’re about to enter one of the most popular bars near campus. I’ve been properly dressed up by Raine. She said I look hot, but I feel like I look ridiculous. I’m wearing my tightest pair of jeans and a black fitted long sleeve shirt she picked out of her closet. The neckline is low and the tops of my boobs are hanging out for anyone to see. Geez. I need to remember not to bend over at any point. She wanted me to wear heels, but I threw my red converse on while she was in the bathroom and by the time she noticed we were already halfway to Flynn’s Pub.

I don’t wear heels. I’m uncoordinated. Adding heels to the mix is just asking for trouble. The frat party is the perfect example. I spilled my drink all over Brady for no apparent reason. He didn’t bump into me, he just startled me a little and bam – he’s covered in beer.

I hand my fake license over to the bouncer checking them at the door without a care in the world. This one looks legit and it never gets questioned. My ex Rob couldn’t give me an orgasm, but he did manage to get me an incredible fake i.d. which makes the less than stellar year we spent together worth it.

Once we’re inside, I pause and glance around. There are so many people jammed into this place. I’m not even sure how to make my way to the bar.

Raine notices my hesitation and grabs my hand. “Come on.” She gives me a tug, and I follow along. She doesn’t let go of my hand, and we somehow remain connected even though we’re getting banged around like the small metal ball in a game of pinball.

My head swivels around when I feel a hand slide across the bottom of my ass. “Hey,” I shout at the guy walking behind me. He holds his hands up like he didn’t do anything, but the laughter erupting from his friends tells me different.

“Don’t be an asshole.” I scowl at him.

Raine keeps moving, pulling me along, and he has the audacity to wink at me.

Who does he think he is?

Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he has the right to act like a dickhead. Stuff like this makes me prefer to hermit in my dorm room.

Why did I come out again tonight?

“I’m ordering shots for us. You need to get some alcohol in you. Loosen up, girl.”

I huff and cross my arms over my chest. “That jerk back there felt me up.” I gesture in his direction with my head.

“That jerk happens to be Cameron Davis our football team’s starting running back. He can do whatever he wants to me,” she jokes. “He’s so hot. I’ve heard he’s a stud between the sheets, too.” She casts a coy glance in his direction with her green eyes and twirls her long blonde hair. “I wouldn’t mind going home with him tonight.”

What? “Raine, how gross. He’s an asshole.” I glance in Cameron’s direction and find him smirking at me. I narrow my eyes before looking back at Raine. “He just felt my ass up, and you want to go home with him anyway? What the hell? Where’s the loyalty?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Harlow. He touched your ass – so what? Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.” She shakes her head at me before walking up to the bar to place an order.

Rubbing my forehead with my palm, I wonder if I should just go home. This night has been a disaster so far.

“Here, drink up. You’ll feel better once you’ve had a couple.” She hands me a shot glass.

“What is this?” I hold it up to my nose and sniff.

“It’s Patron. You’ll like it. What should we drink to?”

Going home?

Closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath. I need to quit being so negative and give this a go. Raine’s always good about being there for me and I don’t want to ruin her night out. Smiling at her, I decide to make the most of the situation. “Here’s to you, here’s to me, the best of friends we’ll always be; but if we ever disagree, fuck you, here’s to me.” I clink my glass against hers. She giggles and we both tip them back in one strong gulp. I must admit, it tastes pretty damn good.

“Here, I ordered two for each of us,” she mentions, handing me another glass.

I hold it up my eyes, staring at the liquor. “Here’s to those who wish us well and those who don’t can go to hell.”

Raine snorts, then touches her glass to mine. We both drink them back and smile at each other. I’m starting to have some fun now.

A large hand clamps down on my shoulder, and when I swing my head around, the smile fades. Brady Lincoln.

“What’s the matter, Harlow? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t happy to see me.” He smiles and every coherent thought in my brain is gone. I can’t believe I’ve been struck dumb by a jock.

What’s wrong with me? I’m surprised he remembers my name. Then again, I’m probably the first girl who’s ever turned him down.

His eyes are so beautiful, I get distracted staring at them. They’re mesmerizing, and when I finally snap my own away, I notice his lips are curved into a knowing smirk.

I compose myself enough to answer him. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re just doing shots.” His hand slides down to cup my upper arm in his warm palm. Just that simple touch has my body reacting. My heart is racing and my legs are trembling.

“What are you ladies drinking?” I open my mouth to tell him we don’t need anyone to buy us shots when Raine interrupts.

“Patron, thanks.” She smiles at me when I flash her a death glare. I don’t want Brady to stick around. Now he’s buying us drinks and I’m going to need to play nice with him. I move my arm to loosen his hold, but instead of letting me go like I anticipated, he slides his hand down, taking mine.

Oh, my God. I can’t believe I’m holding hands with Brady Lincoln.

I glance down to make sure I’m not imagining this. Nope, I’m not and his smooth palm is hot against mine. My mind conjures up visions of me lying on his bed while those large hands slowly slide all over my stomach, pushing my shirt with them.

“Here you go, kitten,” Brady’s voice snaps me out of my unwanted fantasies. Glancing up at him, I find him smiling down at me. My face flushes. Crap. I grab the glass and down the shot. I squeeze my eyes shut. Cocky Brady is hard to resist, but sweet Brady might be my undoing.

What is he doing flirting with someone like me?

I open my eyes and find him studying me. His stare is too much and I lower my chin before looking in the other direction.

He hands Raine a shot. “Thanks Brady,”

“Harlow.” I hear his voice but I stubbornly remain facing away from him. “Harlow.” This time his voice is close to my ear and it surprises me. I shiver, liking the way his warm breath feels on my skin – liking it too much.

I tug on my hand, but he won’t let go. When my head whips around to tell him off, my long bangs fall in my eyes. I reach up with my free hand to push them back, but he beats me to it. Gently pushing them to the side with his fingertips, he tucks them behind my ear.

Pensively biting on my bottom lip, I stare up at him.

Who is this guy?

One minute he’s a cocky asshole and the next he’s unbelievably sweet. He has me completely off balance and I don’t know what to make of him.

Which one is the real Brady?