I dropped my arm to shield my eyes from the obnoxious glare of the sun that poured through the window, attacking me in the worst way imaginable.

Fuck! How much did I drink last night? I groaned and turned my head to the side.

Double fuck!

I squinted and risked another glance to the side of me. Blonde locks were splayed across my pillow in a tangled mess, and I fought back another groan as I played up my next move. Fuck, Tay, you’re not on the field now. That shit ain’t gonna work.

I could kick her out? That would be the sensible thing to do, but clearly I wasn’t that sensible last night otherwise I wouldn’t have repeated the same thing again. Plus, kicking her out would mean having to deal with her verbal abuse and if that failed, I would have to endure the pouting and fluttering of false black lashes, and that just wasn’t something I could deal with.

I groaned inwardly and started to shift my legs from underneath my latest mistake. Circling her wrist, I placed it to the side as carefully as I could, but far away from me, thanking all the gods upstairs when she didn’t move an inch.

Man, I really must’ve done a number on her last night.

I began to creep across the mattress to the edge of the bed like the pussy I was, scanning the floor for my discarded clothing.

The bathroom.

That’s where it had all started.

Damn tits, and damn Melanie Livingston. She was good. Better than good, actually. She sucked my dick like she couldn’t get enough, and she knew exactly what she was doing and how to get me off. She knew where she stood, too. Or at least, she had. After last night, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Any hope I’d had of coming away from this unscathed went right out the damn window the second I’d hauled her arse into my bed after swearing I wouldn’t go there again. The lines had started to blur, and I was beginning to realise this little arrangement of ours was no longer worth it.

I didn’t do relationships. I fucked… a lot. I was too young to be tied down by a chick who was only good for one thing. Sure, the girls I’d bagged were undeniably beautiful. I had some standards. But these chicks didn’t have much else in the way of qualities and their looks could only get them so far. Melanie was no exception. She had been trying to change my relationship status since our first year at Winslow Falls. I’d made it crystal clear that I wasn’t into that. I’d happily fuck her, so long as she understood that that was all it was. Lately, though, she was becoming more and more clingy, showing up at the house whenever she wanted a seeing to. I was alright with it most of the time. I got to shoot my load and she strutted off out the door with a satisfied grin on her face, like the cat that got the cream. But the frequency had changed, and without realising it, she had started to edge her way further into my life. I couldn’t let that get out of hand.

I made a mental note to set her straight the next time I saw her and finished getting ready. Coach had called last night and said he needed to see me first thing in the morning. He’d questioned if I’d been drinking. I told him I hadn’t. It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t even taken a swig from the bottle that had been in my hand when he’d called. I was already on a warning and Thorn—my football coach— would hand me my own arse if I turned up late again.

Out. I needed to get out.

I headed down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and rounded the corner to find the kitchen empty. Jake must’ve already left because the house was quiet and had been immaculately cleaned up from the night before. Shrugging, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long pull before making the quickest exit of my whole damn life.

Two hours later, I walked out of second period English with my two teammates in tow.

Two down, one to go, I thought to myself as I continued across the field towards the common room.

I had expected Thorn to pull me up on some shit this morning, but lucky for me he was in a surprisingly good mood. Turned out he had a new game play he’d thought up the previous night and wanted to run it past me first thing because, apparently, it couldn’t wait until this afternoon. Dick.

I was halfway through my last year in college and so far, it’d been everything I’d expected it to be—late nights, shitty coursework, and more chicks than I had time for. Still, it was freedom away from the home I didn’t have and my alcoholic mother who, most days, probably didn’t even remember I existed.

College wasn’t just a means to an end for me. It wasn’t some ploy to get out of growing up too soon and facing the inevitability of employment. It wasn’t even an excuse to get away from my mum and the rundown flat she lived in. Although moving down south, miles away from the people I grew up with my whole life, had been an added bonus. But there was a reason behind my decision to move away, attend college and, shocker, study.

Football had been a passion of mine since I’d learned to kick a ball, and when I was faced with an opportunity to attend college and play football at the same time, I couldn’t turn it down, even if that meant leaving Mum behind. Our life had become a shit-storm since Dad had been sent to prison. The day he was sentenced was the day my life had changed. Gone were my loving, proud parents. Instead, there was a big black hole where my heart used to be. I had evolved into a heartless bastard as a result, and I had my dad to thank for that.

My thoughts were abruptly brought to a halt as my chest collided with a firm yet soft pair of… Melanie.

I didn’t even have time to groan before her long, painted fingernail began to roam its way down my chest to my groin.

The girl had no tact what-so-fuckin’-ever.

“Hey, good-looking. I missed you this morning,” she purred and I shook her off, putting distance between us.

“Yeah, about that…” I started, lifting my hand to scratch the back of my neck. The top she wore barely covered her chest, exposing her pierced belly button, and her tits were pushed to the sky, fully on display.

“I know. It was epic, right? I know you’re still thinking about my mouth around your—”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” I cut in, suddenly feeling queasy. “See, our little arrangement?” I lifted a finger, gesturing between the two of us. “It’s no longer working out for me.”

“We’ll see,” she said. A daring sparkle lit her eyes, as if she really believed she could change my mind.

I looked to my teammates for help, but they just stood there gawking, apparently shocked as hell. Heck, even I was shocked I’d let that happen again and I was there.

“Sorry, Mel,” Darren jumped in, saving my arse. “We've gotta shoot. Coach will kill us if we’re late and your boy here is already on a warning. Wouldn’t want to lose our star striker now, would we?”

“Most certainly not,” she agreed, grabbing a handful of my arse and squeezing. Flicking her hair over to one side, she threw me a wink and mouthed we’ll see before strutting off in heels that should have been illegal.

Dropping my head, I blew out a breath and waited for the impending interrogation.

“Mate, please tell me you didn’t go there again? I saw the red bra hung on the door but figured you just got lucky. But that ain’t luck,” Jake said, shaking his head.

I shot him a warning glare, daring the fucker to say another word.

“Look. All I’m saying is that girl wants nothing more than to sink her claws into you. She’s been trying to tame you since the first time you fucked her, and you’re giving in to her again? You must have some sort of death wish.”

For once the fucker was right. I was in deep with no floats or rubber fucking dinghies to save my sorry arse.

“It’s probably all around the halls by now. Taylor Lawson—tamed and taken,” Darren quipped, and I tightened the grip on my bag to refrain from flooring the bastard.

I hated Darren. I wasn't even sure why he hung around with us. I only tolerated him because he was on the team, and as much as I hated to admit it, we needed him.

“You’re going soft on us, bud,” he piped up again. “Coach will have you strung up by the bollocks if he catches wind of this. You know the rules, Tay. No birds and definitely no fornicating with on-campus students that could lead to trouble on the field. I’d say you just grabbed them rules and rubbed ‘em right in his face,” he continued, adding fuel to the already burning fire.

Shoving his arsehole comment to one side, I pocketed my hands and stalked across the field, pissed as hell. It was in that particular moment, when my hands were shaking with anger and my blood began to boil, that my gaze landed on the most enchanting green eyes I had ever seen. It was enough to have me halting in my tracks and forgetting all about the shit that was my life.

Lola Henderson.

Dammit all to hell! Why did I have to look?

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had taken a fancy to little miss hostile. My dickhead cousin and his best mate had both stopped dead and were openly gawking at her.

“What’s her deal anyway?” I asked nonchalantly, nodding my head in her direction as if they didn’t already know who the hell I was taking about.

Lola was new to Winslow. I’d heard the rumours, but I never really paid much attention to the idle gossip that floated around the common room. I’d been on the receiving end of plenty back home, most of which was completely fucking ludicrous. Still, there was definitely a story behind those big green eyes of hers. If she hadn’t been so emotionally detached, I’d probably have bagged her already. She seemed different, refreshing even. Not like the other girls who loitered around the hallway hoping to catch a glimpse of me, or hell, maybe even hoping I’d acknowledge them enough to take them home. As much as I liked women and what they could give me, it was slowly wearing thin. Unlike Lola, those girls were needy. A girl like her would take some major work. Not that I wasn’t up for the challenge. It was clear that men made her nervous. Or maybe it was just me? That made more sense. I had seen it for myself yesterday when I’d caught up with Riley at lunch. The girl practically ran into the door when I slid up next to her. I knew she wasn’t comfortable around me, yet I couldn't help but make her feel worse. I was an arse like that.

Darren shrugged. “Dunno, man. Heard she killed her boyfriend back home for trying to shove his tongue down her throat.”

I rolled my eyes and tossed my bag over my shoulder.

Jake mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t make out and shoved Darren’s head with the palm of his hand. “You really are a dick,” he said, shaking his head.

“What was that for? You asked, I told you. But you know, if I knew I was gonna die anyway, I’d shove more than my tongue down that hot little mouth of hers.”

My jaw tensed. All resolve was gone. I wanted to smack him in that smart mouth of his, but I was far too distracted, especially when her eyes locked on mine. For a fraction of a second I saw something more—more than the usual hostility and cold exterior she wore around campus. More than she’d ever given me before, but it was gone quicker than it came, and I found myself feeling a sense of familiarity—like I knew her from somewhere. Not just from around here. The feeling was ridiculous. If I had known her, there was no way I’d have forgotten her in a hurry.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the ridiculous thoughts.

“I’m outta here,” I said, before either of them had a chance to come up with another wise crack.

“Don’t be late for practice,” Darren called out. I flipped him the bird.

When I was a kid, I had only one goal in life, and that was to play football. Even before I knew how to kick one, I was adamant that was what I wanted to do. I could remember my first ever ball. Not the crappy ones you got in the supermarket toy section, but a real one. It was black and white, and the leather probably weighed more than I did, but it was my ball, and something about that feeling made me more determined to reach my goal and find my spot in the Premier League someday—be Dennis Bergkamp or someone equally as great. Football wasn’t just a hobby, it was my life, and when Dad had handed me that football on that rainy summer’s day, I felt like a king being handed his crown. I knew then that nothing would ever come between me and the sport I loved more than life. But the thing about life is you never truly know where it’s going to take you, and that dream you once had could so easily be taken from you.

I was into my third year at college and one trophy away from taking the team to the play-offs, but that hadn’t always been the case.

Unlike most kids, I had a happy upbringing—two parents who loved me, a family that was proud of me and a nice home just north of Winslow that, to most, seemed fucking ridiculous. Mum was a stay at home mum, living the dream through Dad’s hefty wage packet, but she was happy, and she always made me her number one priority. Dad was a partner at her brother-in-law’s law firm right here in Winslow. He wasn't around much when I was a kid, but he was a good dad, and I didn’t want for anything. The time we did have together was spent playing football in the grounds at Winslow Falls. We travelled here a lot when I was growing up. It was near Dad’s office and in the grounds of the college I’d had my heart set on attending. Even at five years old, I knew what I wanted. So we did that every other weekend, or whenever he had time off. He would bring me here and we would spend hours playing football. He was always the goalkeeper and would often step out of the net to fake tackle me, only to let me slip past him and shoot one into the back of the net. At that time in my life, I didn’t mind so much. I was just happy that Dad was there, encouraging me to live my dream, even if he was cheating. But even back then, I was damn good at it. Then everything changed. Two years earlier, my world had been ripped out from underneath me, and my dream had almost been destroyed.

Although Dad had always been a decent father, his loyalties to my mother hadn’t been as high on his agenda as I was led to believe. Thinking back, I was no doubt blind to it. The bad stuff, I mean. They rarely argued in front of me. In fact, I didn’t really remember them arguing at all.

It hadn’t been until the previous year when more revelations had come to the surface—a whole year after he’d been sentenced—that it all came to a head and my life was tainted forever.

Christmas two years ago had been like any other. Dad would always come home late on Christmas Eve, his arms filled with a tonne of presents that were always neatly wrapped. I didn’t even question who had wrapped them.

The only thing that changed each year was the number of presents he had in his arms. As I grew older, the presents became smaller, but more expensive. This time, he came back with only one present, but he had a big fucking grin on his face that clearly said he’d outdone himself. What he hadn’t known was that I’d already seen the brochures in his office and the red circle surrounding the black Range Rover. I didn’t have a licence at the time; I was still learning. It was a ridiculous gift for a seventeen-year-old, but that was Dad. Always trying to do one better than the last. I didn't let on that I knew, though. Dad would have been crushed and probably would have taken it back, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. Unfortunately, I never got around to opening that present. That following day, my world turned to shit and no tanked up, over the top Range could erase the hatred I felt towards my father. Those two knocks on the door ripped my family apart and made damn sure I spent the rest of my days angry and pissed at the world because I’d not only lost my father, but my mother, too.

When Lola glanced my way and our eyes locked, I saw something familiar. Not just anger, but loss. It was almost as if finally, someone in this world understood me—understood the loss I felt when my father fucked up and went to prison, or when my mother picked up that first bottle of Vodka and never put it down. For that brief moment in time, I wasn’t alone.

It was just a shame she fucking hated me, otherwise I’d have clung on to that feeling and fucked her senseless.