{18+ COLLEGE ROMANCE COMPLETED}
What sucks more than being rejected by the girl of your dreams? Finding out afterward that she's moving in with you.
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The night that Beau Martin spends with Collins Bryant is the best one of his life. He wants to...
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My palms were sweaty.
Knees weak.
Arms heavy.
Goddamn, I was a walking, talking, breathing—well, barely breathing—Eminem song right now. Minus the vomit on my sweater of course. And thank fucking god for that because my date was already making her way up the stairs toward me, all sophisticated and gorgeous. And very much looking like she wouldn't be the type of person to go out with someone who had remnants of their mom's spaghetti down their front.
Not that Momma Martin would even make spaghetti. Well, maybe she would. As long as it could be paired with at least three other courses. Maybe two.
Shit, focus. Stop thinking about your mom while you're on a date. Think about her, you asshole.
She wore the red one. Somehow I'd known she was going to wear the red dress. Out of all the ones I'd sent her as options, that one stuck out the most. Begged to be put on and showcased at a gala like this one. Only the best for the Cardairel Hotel. Only the best for Collins Bryant, this beauty I didn't even know.
But I was going to know her soon.
Holy hell, I was going to give Bren my Range Rover. That was it. I'd decided. He deserved it after setting me up with this girl. She glanced up at me with those dark, melting eyes, and something flipped on inside me. A light switch? No, not even close. A flame torch would be more like it. And not just any torch but like...a special one. Yep, the Olympic-mother-fucking-torch was burning up my body from the inside out.
An opening ceremony raged on inside me, and my heart was the host. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I rubbed at my chest, needing the thumping in it to chill out with the celebrations. This was just the beginning, and Olympic event number one was coming right up.
Just say hello. Introduce yourself. Be cool, dude.
"Hey."
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A U G U S T
before sophomore year
If I had a time machine, I'd probably take a little ride to that timeless era of the early 2000s and hop into some pee-wee football. Because if I'd learned one thing from this afternoon, it was that football players got girls.
Never did I think I would stoop low enough to be hanging around a football stadium, radiating jealousy, but fuck it. Sell my soul to the pee-wee devil and sign me up.
"I mean, three-quarters of these guys just stand around on the sidelines and twiddle their fucking thumbs. I can do that, right?"
Nessa looked me up and down. "I mean, sure. But is that really how you want to spend half your weekends at college? Sitting on the sidelines of a football field?"
