If music and liquor filled the hearts of New Orleanians, it was football that made those hearts pump faster.  In southeast Louisiana, football was a religion, and Keira found herself standing outside of her university’s resident monastery—a place she thought she’d never enter, determined to ask Kona about his rough draft.

The team house was a mammoth, red American Foursquare with a large porch and wide, brick steps. Filtered around those steps were groups of students, mostly girls, circling a player or two like faithful worshippers, hoping for a scrap of humor or a quick, flirtatious smile. If it weren’t for the rows of empty beer cans lining the faded white banisters and the dead potted mums flicking dried petals in the wind, the team house might look almost welcoming.

For at least the tenth time that day, Keira cursed Kona Hale. Those curses mumbled under her breath grew louder as she climbed the steps and ignored the curious stares she got from the loitering students. When Professor Miller told her Kona hadn’t turned in his rough draft for their project—something he was supposed to do at their 8:00 a.m. class—Keira knew she’d have to track him down. She understood that his grandfather was sick. She understood that the heart attack and surgery would put Kona off his schedule, but that had been nearly five days ago, and he’d gone silent on her, missed both classes that week.

“If I don’t have both drafts by the end of day, Ms. Riley, I’m afraid I’ll have to take points off of your overall grade.” At least Miller had extended the deadline. But Keira had no idea if Kona would make it.

Keira bypassed two kissing couples as she crossed the house’s threshold and tried to remind herself not to touch a thing. The entire house smelled like beer and various other liquid stenches she tried not to identify. For noon, the place was crowded. An active card game went on in the dining room—strip poker from the looks of how underdressed the players were—and three girls in their underwear dug out bottles of beer in the large kitchen refrigerator. Keira focused her attention straight ahead to the dark living room and the red sofa in the center. Two football players, one she recognized as Kona’s twin, Luka, lounged against it, watching TV with seemingly little interest. When Luka’s gaze shifted from the set to Keira, he sat up, nudging the guy next to him until he left the sofa.

“Hey. Keira, right?” Luka said, standing to greet her.

She didn’t let herself think too long on how he remembered her. They hadn’t actually met at the hospital, but she did wonder what Kona may have told Luka about her. Instead of asking for details, she offered the boy a quick nod. Luka wasn’t as tall as Kona. His shoulders and arms weren’t nearly as wide, but he still dwarfed her. She saw the similarities between the two Hale boys, but Luka somehow was less severe, seemed to smile easier.

“I’m looking for Kona. Have you seen him around?”

Luka’s gaze slipped over her head, to the closed door behind her, and Keira pushed back the worry that filled her chest. “I think he’s in the shower, actually. He slept in this morning, and I haven’t seen him.” Keira felt awkward, nervous being in the team house, being out of her element, but Luka’s smiled widened and she felt some of the tension in her chest ease. “You’re welcome to wait here. We’ve got a team meeting in an hour, and I know he won’t miss that.”

She told herself she should just leave a message. Luka would let Kona know about the deadline. There was no reason for her to hang around, but something held her back—some weird sense of curiosity that made her want to see how Kona lived, to see what he did when she wasn’t around.

She hadn’t thought much about those brief stares they shared at the hospital, and she refused to acknowledge that she’d slipped him a small kiss. It was the emotion of the day, seeing him so wounded, so lost, that softened her, had her staring too long in those haunting, dark eyes.

Luka left a good three feet between them on the sofa, and that ever-present smile on his face remained unchanged as he stared at her. For her part, Keira could only manage to stare straight ahead, her eyes unfocused on the screen in front of her.

“How’s the project going?”

“He told you about the project?” Keira didn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

“He’s my brother. He tells me everything. Besides,” Luka nudged Keira on the shoulder and she moved her gaze toward him, returning the smile he gave her, “when a beautiful girl starts screaming at my twin in the middle of the cafeteria, then I get explanations. You gave me blackmail. Thanks for that.”

“Blackmail?”

Luka’s smile, unbelievably, grew even wider. “Kona would never admit this, but he’s scared shitless of our mother. You saw how she is at the hospital.”

“You’re not scared of her?”

“Ha, I’m not on her radar.” Luka looked back at the TV and flipped the channel, but Keira caught the way his smile fell, how he didn’t seem amused by his admission in the least. “She leaves me alone.”

“How’s your grandfather?” The curiosity got the best of her, the worry that something bad may have happened hit a bit too close to home for her. But Luka’s forced smile relaxed, then stretched, and Keira released her worry. 

 “He’s going to be fine. Kona didn’t mention it to you?” Luka teased, and Keira didn’t like the way he winked at her or what he was implying in that smirk. And then the humor left his expression as Luka stared at the lanky guy walking through the doorway. “Stupid asshole,” he mumbled, coming to his feet.

“Hey man, where’s Kona?” the guy asked, barely taking notice of Luka, who stood in front of him.

“Out. And I told you, you aren’t welcome here, Ricky.”

Ricky’s face was gaunt, and his cheekbones protruded against his dark skin, giving him a dangerous, shifty appearance. Keira felt her stomach twist just looking at him, but Luka showed no fear, seemed to be unconcerned at the glare he was getting when he stood in front of Ricky, or the way Ricky's jacket bulged in the back of his waistband. He had a gun, that much Keira could make out.

“Man, calm down. I just need him to—”

Luka cut off Ricky’s explanation by pushing him back into the wall. “I don’t give a shit what you need from my brother. I told you to stay away.”

“You need to get your hands off me.” Ricky’s voice was so low Keira was only able to understand what he said by reading his lips. She stood from the sofa, not certain if she wanted to break them apart or run out of the house. But the decision was made for her when the door to her right swung open, and Kona stepped into the living room, trailing behind Tonya Lucas.

Kona shifted his eyes around the room, first to Ricky and Luka, looking like they were about to flatten each other’s faces, and then to Keira’s shocked face. Her focus had left the impending fight, and she felt the breath clot in her throat as Tonya pulled down her short skirt and Kona finished tugging his T-shirt over his naked chest.

 

Weeks.

Kona had messed around with Keira for weeks and had gotten nowhere. Really, if he thought about it, he blamed Keira for Tonya Lucas being in his bed.

He didn’t want the blonde. She was too skinny, too fake, too expected. The girls on the CPU campus fit a certain mold, concerned themselves with whole Trinity of Ts: Tan, Teeth, Tits. Tonya was the best at keeping that trifecta of fake going.

But Kona didn’t want Tonya’s triple Ts. 

He didn’t want the bleached blonde hair slapping in his face.

He didn’t want to take hold of those firm, fake tits and feel nothing real.

He didn’t like the way her skin felt against his palms.

After weeks of second guessing, weeks of trying to ignore the fire shooting between him and Keira, one afternoon with Tonya Lucas confirmed what Kona really wanted.

Keira.

He wanted her pale, soft skin. He wanted his fingers tangled in that lush, dark hair. He wanted to see those ice blue eyes roll up, hidden behind her large, smooth lids. He really wanted those full, pink lips running against his tongue. He wanted her laugh, her mouth, her body, and even though he knew he shouldn’t, knew it was selfish, he even thought he might want her heart. He’d planned to tell her that. He planned to convince her to be with him. And then, Tonya happened.

He got Tonya with little effort. He got her because that morning, while he ran before class, she followed, trailed behind him like a prowling cat.

He gave the kitty her cream and now? Well, he felt like shit about it.

He didn't know why. That day at the hospital with Keira had changed things between them, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t read into the looks she gave him, or how she’d held him up when he thought the world was slipping out from under him. Kona wanted a single shot, a one-time hookup, that’s what he constantly told himself the past week while he kept his distance from Keira. She would never be down for just a one- or two-time wrangle between his sheets. He knew that.

But touching Tonya had changed things for him. He didn’t care what he deserved. He didn’t care that he’d never be good enough for Keira. He wanted her, and he’d do whatever he could to get her. Just as soon as he got Tonya out of his room.

“So, you gonna call me later, baby?”

Kona hated when they did that. He unlatched Tonya’s arms from his neck and patted her ass to lead her from his room.

At first, he didn’t see past Tonya’s blonde hair, his gaze covered by the T-shirt he slipped over his head as he followed her out into the living room. But when he caught Luka’s hard frown and how he and Ricky looked like they were about to get into it, Kona’s attention focused on the impending trouble. And then, his trouble got worse.

Keira stood next to his door, mouth open, chin in a quiver she tried to shake off with a subtle sweep of her hand. He didn’t like how her face had gone pale, like someone had just unplugged her.

Luka’s eyebrows came up, and he offered Kona a small headshake. He’d been caught. Kona wasn’t sure why that mattered to him, why the frown on Keira’s face had his throat closing up, but it did, and he hated how that felt.

Kona had three bombs to diffuse, and he dealt with the deadliest one first.

“Brah, I got nothing. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” Kona didn’t relax until Ricky nodded.

“I’ll be back then.” He stopped, stretching his shoulders as his eyes shifted between Kona and Luka. “Make sure you got what I need.” Kona didn’t like the threat laced in his words or how Ricky had come into his home making demands, but there was too much to deal with, too many fires he had to extinguish.

The guy trailed out of the living room, and Kona caught his twin’s glare, deciding it wasn’t the time to hear the lecture he knew Luka would give him. “Not now.”

He could feel the tension behind him, in the cool looks Tonya leveled at Keira, but Kona didn’t let her start anything. Tonya’s arm felt weak, cold under his fingers despite the temperature in the house, when he led her out of the living room. Kona doubted it had anything to do with the fall air outside.

“I didn’t realize you and that Keira girl were together.” Even her voice sounded icy, like there was no warmth hidden between the syllables. When Kona’s attention kept shifting back to where Keira stood chatting with Luka, Tonya pulled on his face, made him stare at her. “So? What’s the deal?”

“Don’t fish, Tonya. It makes you look common.” And Kona realized that’s what he didn’t like about her, about girls like her. They were common. They were all the same, clones of each other trying to stick out, each one mimicking the other until their faces were indistinguishable.

Keira wasn’t like that. Keira would never be common.

And so Kona let common Tonya Lucas leave his house, pissed off that he couldn’t make his eyes stay on her, that he couldn’t be bothered to ask for her number, that he couldn’t think of anything else but getting back to Keira and apologizing for something he shouldn’t feel guilty about.

He caught Luka’s eyes first, not liking how close his twin stood to Keira, not understanding why Luka didn’t seem to make Keira feel nervous. But he couldn’t dwell on that, not when Keira stepped away from them, pretended to be interested in the team pictures lining the wall.

“Bad?” he asked his twin, but his brother only shrugged, telling Kona silently that he wouldn’t help him out of this one. “Thanks, brah. No really.” A small jab at Luka’s shoulder and his brother left Kona alone with Keira.

She hadn’t moved, eyes still up at those row of pictures, decades of CPU players who had gone on to lives Kona could only dream of. He slipped in behind her, fingers aching to touch her hair, to pull what she’d seen of him and Tonya from her head.

“You missed class,” she finally said, making a slow turn that had Kona stepping away from her. He couldn’t read her expression, though he tried. Keira was so closed off sometimes; she was a shit liar, but sometimes, Kona had noticed, her temper would get so great that it bypassed rage and moved into simmering calm, hiding whatever she was thinking from her expressions. He thought this moment might be inching toward that calm.

“Yeah, I felt like shit this morning.”

She didn’t believe him, and really, Kona knew it was stupid to lie to her. But he let the look she gave him pass—eyebrow lifted and a small tremor vibrating her top lip as though she was trying hard not to scowl.

 “Better now?”  Her gaze moved behind him to the front door where Tonya had left and Kona meant to say something, tell Keira it wasn’t any of her business what he’d done this morning or why he’d missed class, but before he could utter a sound, she shook her head, blinking twice before her expression shifted, became distant, hard. “Miller said if we don’t both have our rough drafts handed in by three this afternoon, then we’ll get points taken off.”

 “Okay.” Kona hoped he could be cool, could let her know without sounding like a groveling asshole that he felt bad. He hoped his tone was sincere, that she could somehow read each inflection and would know that he wanted her, that he was sorry he’d touched Tonya. He failed miserably. “Listen, Wildcat…”

“Don’t call me that.” Simmering calm, he thought. This is simmering calm, and Kona’s own frustration began to bubble. He took a step, and she retreated, sidestepping until the coffee table separated them. Kona hated the distance, hated that her cool tone was affecting him. He opened his mouth, licked his lips to keep them from cracking against his hot breath, but Keira wouldn’t let him excuse anything away. Hand up to silence him, she let that distant tone fill each syllable. “Is your rough draft finished?” Kona nodded, not sure she’d let him say anything at all. “Good. Please get it to Miller in time. I’d appreciate it.”

When she turned to leave, Kona moved, catching her before she could make it to the front door. “Listen to me for a second, okay? Tonya, this morning…” He paused, fighting for words that didn’t sound like pathetic excuses. When nothing came to him, he waved his hand, “that was nothing.”

“It’s none of my business what you do away from our class, Kona.”

“I just meant—”

“In fact,” she said, smiling, and Kona didn’t like how quick the grin came, how there was no warmth in it. “I don’t give a shit about what you…do.” Eyes downcast, glancing over his dick, Keira’s lethal smile faltered. “The only thing I care about is my grade, and if you don’t turn in the rough draft—”

“I’ll turn in the damn draft.” He cut her off because he was pissed. He was mad that she was playing off whatever she was feeling because she was somehow disappointed in him. And, she was lying. She had to be. Those great blue eyes became wet, and Keira blinked, lashes moving like a fan, and Kona knew she was fighting whatever emotion had her angry at him. It pissed him off. She did. She confused him, and the tone—her dismissive attitude— did nothing but frustrate Kona.

“Good, then we don’t have a problem.”

Again she turned to leave, but Kona took her elbows, backed her against the wall so she’d look at him. “Why are you pissed at me?”

“Why the hell would I be pissed at you?”

That calm was fractured, rendered useless by the lick of heat working over her cheeks. He knew she wanted him. He knew seeing Tonya here this morning had hurt her. She was just too damn stubborn to admit it. “You jealous?”

“Excuse me?” He didn’t expect her laughter. He didn’t expect her to be cruel, condescending. It stung. “You think I’m jealous that you’re passing along STDs to the female student body? Get over yourself, Kona.” When she pushed against his chest, he caught her fingers, holding her struggling hand against his chest. The heat coiled tight, rose up to swell between them. It was the same unexplainable sensation he’d felt the night of her attack; the same thing that crackled the air that day at the hospital. It was bitterness and want, peeking out from his anger, from her jealousy, and right then, Kona moved closer, leaned against her, and he didn’t have to hold her fingers still on his chest.

They stayed there, challenging him, taunting him. But the venom in her voice, the anger in her expression did not shift in the slightest. “I wouldn’t be jealous of Tonya Lucas if you paid me, Kona. I know what she is. I know what you are. I knew that before we were assigned this project.” Kona could smell the hint of caramel and coffee on her breath. He watched her expression, the small curl of her mouth, the tremor that bumped a tiny pulse on her cheek as she pushed him back, still standing too close, with that tempting mouth just inches from him. Lips that were sweet, words that were poison. “People like you never fucking change.”