I’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. You have to be, when you’ve got something like a crazy older brother who just won’t get off the drugs, won’t stop getting arrested, won’t stop calling you asking for money.

It’s a weird situation. He looks up to me, like I’m the older brother. But all the time growing up, he was the one that I looked up to. When I was younger, I only wanted to be like my brother. I followed him around and wanted to do everything that he did. I wanted to play football because he would play with his buddies in the street.

I try to push the thoughts of him out of my head as I walk to class. My shoulder is killing me, and I’m also worried about the upcoming draft. Word isn’t out that I’ve hurt my shoulder, and it needs to stay like that if I’m going to get drafted. But I also need to actually get my shoulder working. It’s a sure thing that I’m going to get drafted. I just have to be actually able to play and throw when I arrive for summer training camp.

I’m not looking where I’m going when Lia runs smack into me.

“Were you planning this?” I say, helping her steady herself with my arms. “You just couldn’t wait until tonight, am I right?”

“Sorry,” she says, stammering. “No, I was just… I forget my physics in… the class… and I had to go make sure it was… vibrating…”

She’s completely flushed, blushing like crazy, and it’s impossibly cute.

I take another hungry look at her. She’s wearing the same clothes she was wearing earlier, and her hair is down. She looks like a sex goddess. I can’t believe I haven’t spotted her on campus before, let alone not bedded her down before. I can hardly think of another senior girl that I haven’t had a crack at.

“Well that sounds like a tough situation,” I say. “But vibrating physics books aside, you’re still buying me dinner tonight, right?”

She takes a deep breath, and seems to regain her composure somewhat.

“I didn’t realize I have to buy,” she says.

“Well that’s what it means to take me out to dinner,” I say.

“Isn’t it usually the guy who pays?” she says, her voice full of delightful zing.

“Not with me,” I say. “You’re lucky to be going out with me.”

“Oh am I?” she says. I can almost taste the sarcasm dripping off each and every word that she pronounces with that impossibly sexy mouth of hers. Her lips are plush and full, perfect for smashing my mouth down onto as our teeth clash and our tongues twirl violently together, perfect for wrapping around my thick, girthy cock.

“You are,” I say. “And you know it.”

“You’ve really got it down pat,” she says. “Your way with the ladies.”

I just smirk at her. She knows full well that I don’t have to have silver words dripping off my tongue to get laid. She wants me and my cock and that’s as clear as day.

“So where you taking me?” I say.

“I was thinking the Henderson building.”

The Henderson Building is known for having the worst cafeteria school food. It’s not exactly a spot for a date.

I laugh.

“I like women like you,” I say. “With a bit of spirit.”

“Oh, I’m a real firecracker, yeah,” she says. “So how about this, if you don’t want me to buy you a meal at Henderson, then come to my dorm room at 8 tonight. I live in Hillson Hall, room 214. Then you can take me to a nice place off campus. I like Greek food and Vietnamese.”

I laugh.

“Sure,” I say. “That’s fine. See you tonight.”

As she walks off, I follow her ass with my eyes. Damn, that’s going to be fun tonight.

With Lia gone, I fall into the streaming herd of students, the huge student body that makes up this massive state campus.

I really would have liked to go somewhere else, some small liberal arts college where I could have sunk my nose into good books for four years, really studied the humanities and learned a ton of cool shit.

No one would know it, but I’ve always been into books. I always read as a kid, mostly since we weren’t allowed to have a TV in the house. My parents are both college professors. Well, they were, but they’re both Emeritus now, basically completely tired. They met because they worked in the same English department.

But even without them, I know I would have loved books.

But being a book worm doesn’t exactly jive with being a football player. It’s not the right kind of image, so I learned to keep my interest in books away from all my football friends. I lived the typical football player life in high school—going to keggers, house parties, driving around in some friend’s old pickup, smashing mailboxes for fun. I never got arrested, which was merely thanks to the local cops being huge football fans.

I’m kind of half-heartedly weaving my way across the quad to my next class.

My phone rings.

It’s an unknown number.

“Shane, man, you standing me up or something?”

Oh, it’s Johnson. I forgot all about him.

“No, dude, I’ll be right there. I’m on my way.”

I’m glad I have a reason to ditch class.

I head over to the campus bar, where I have to show my ID to get in. This is one of the few campuses in the state that has a bar, and they’re really strict about making sure everyone is at least 21 who even enters the bar.

Johnson is in a back corner that’s dark and full of shadows.

Hunched over his beer, he looks somewhat ominous. The shadows play across his face and his expression is unreadable.

He finally sees me and waves me over.

The bartender hands me two beers, and I walk over and sit down across from Johnson in a little booth. Here, we’re tucked away from the intensity of the campus. Mostly because most of the students aren’t old enough to come in here or drink legally. The freshman are relegated to drinking cheap vodka from the bottle in their dorm room with the lights off, hoping that their RAs won’t hear them laughing and giggling. Most of the students drink at the frats, whether they’re allowed to or not.

“Shane,” says Johnson, looking up from his drink. “How’s it going, buddy?”

I hand him one of my beers, and take a sip from mine. It’s not great, but it’s passable, a local lager that’s cheap enough. Once I get my contract, I won’t ever have to worry about money ever again. But that’s not why I’m doing it. It’s for the football, the game that I can’t seem to shake, the game that follows me everywhere, even into my dreams.

“Good,” I say.

His demeanor is different now. Gone is the jovial tone of our first encounter.

“You thinking about graduation?”

I shake my head.

“I’m doing the whole football thing,” I say.

He nods his head and takes a long drink of the beer I’ve just handed him. He drains nearly half the bottle in a single sip.

“So what’s it like on Wall Street?” I say. “You must be making a killing.”

“Something like that,” he says.

“So you’re here for the young tail?” I say. “I thought you Wall Street guys were just drowning in pussy.”

He shrugs. “Yeah,” he says, vaguely. “I don’t know, man. It’s not always like it seems. I really just wish I was back in college.”

“Back in college? Are you crazy? I can’t wait to get out. No more classes. No more bullshit. In high school, you think college is going to be so great. And then after a couple years…”

Johnson holds up his hand, indicating that he’s heard enough.

This isn’t the Johnson I remember.

I study his face. He has lines that I don’t remember. He looks like he’s aged five years in the single year since I’ve seen him. Or maybe it’s the shadows. Who knows.

It’s weird. Back in the locker room, he was just like his old self. Maybe he’s developed a drinking problem. Maybe he’s become one of those people who gets weirdly depressed when he drinks.

Johnson gives me a weird look.

“I wish I was back in college,” he says. “It’s better than you think it is, but it’s hard to realize that until you actually get out.”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” I say. But I actually do believe it. I can see it in his eyes. It’s true. But just because he’s having a hard time doesn’t mean everyone does. I’m going to be killing it on the field in a year’s time, on a professional team. I’m going to have everything I’ve ever wanted. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Johnson. Maybe you just broke up with your girlfriend or something. But I know things are going to pick up. I mean, overall, things must have been great for you in New York the past year, right?”

Johnson pauses before grinning at me. It’s a grin that comes and goes in the span of a second. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess you’re right.”

I can’t say that the reunion with Johnson in the bar is a happy one, but it’s still good to see him, and it’s even better to have a good excuse to skip class, even if it’s one that the professor isn’t necessarily going to accept.

I spend the rest of the day back in my dorm room thinking about my date tonight.

I liked how she had a real mouth on her. She wasn’t taking my bullshit, and I liked that. It means she’s going to be a real thriller in bed. Maybe she’s a complete wild one. My cock is raging hard just considering the possibilities, the countless variations that we could tangle our sweaty bodies into.

There’s an hour left before the date when I get a call from my brother.

“Jack?” I say, picking up. “How are you calling me. I thought they had you locked up.”

“Dad bailed me out,” says Jack. He sounds weary and tired. “I just don’t know what to do, man. I’m lost. I’m strung out.”

So he’s launching right into it, right into his problems, without a word about me or how I’m doing. I mean, I get it. He just got out of jail. But still…

“Listen,” says Jack. “I need some money. Otherwise, I’ll never get back on my feet.”

“Money?” I say. “How much are we talking about?”

“Just like 10,000.”

$10,000?

What could he possible need that much money for?

But I remember how much I looked up to him. I’d do almost anything for my brother.

But $10,000 is more than I’ve even got in the bank. A lot more.