Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (5 page)

Chapter 10

Hunter

I'm swarmed by people the second I step foot on Frat Row.
They follow me all the way to the house, and then gather on the front lawn as I
go inside. Usually I love the attention, but when my body's aching as much as
it is right now, I find it exhausting.

A groupie hands me a beer, and I down it as she watches.
"Got another one?" I ask, and she quickly waves a friend over, who
hands me one. I down that one, too. "The best non-prescription painkiller
out there," I explain.

"You played so amazing today," the taller one
purrs.

"We're really big fans of yours," the other one
agrees, placing her hand on my bicep and allowing her fingertips to slide under
the end of my t-shirt sleeve. "Both of us are."

I know I'm one sentence away from locking down a threesome,
but for the first time in my life, I'm just not interested. "Maybe
later," I tell them. "Thanks for the beers."

I wander over to a couch and sink down into it. I disappear
for a second in the low light, and I can see everyone for a while without them
seeing me. That's the strange thing about being a celebrity on this campus, I'm
always being watched. For a few minutes, I watch everyone on the dance floor,
and the jockeying for position in line for the kegs. I feel strangely
unattached and empty.

"The fuck's the matter with you?" Adam asks,
sinking down next to me. He grabs a girl passing by and pulls her down onto his
lap as she giggles. "You forget that we won today?" I look over at
the girl as she smiles at me. Have we slept together? I can't even fucking
remember.

"Yeah, I know. I think I just need to clear my
head," I say, standing up. Suddenly, staying here seems like an
impossibility.

"Alright," Adam replies, frowning. "You
coming back later?"

"Sure," I call back over my shoulder as I walk
away. I glance out the window at the front yard. It's absolutely mobbed, the
party spilling out into the street. I hug the wall and make my way around the
living room and into the kitchen, then slip out the back door. There are some
people out in the alley, but I fix a frown on my face. That’s the thing about
being six foot five and weighing 240. Sometimes I look like one scary fuck, and
no one's inclined to bother me.

Away from Frat Row, I feel myself relax a little. It's a
beautiful night, and Nashville isn't such a big city that its lights obscure
the stars. Still, it was a big change from the small football town in Texas
where I grew up.

I walk aimlessly around campus for about twenty minutes, or
so I think. When I finally look up to see where I am, Calhoun dorm is right in
front of me. I run my hands through my short hair. What am I doing here? I
don't even have her number, and I don't have access to her dorm.

And that's not even taking into account that she's
Coach
McKay's daughter.
Now that I think about it, they both have blue eyes,
though Coach's are much darker, and they both have this way of looking at me
like they know everything about me. In Britt's case, though, I actually find it
kind of comforting, like it gives me the sense that we've known each other much
longer than we actually have.

I sit down on the top step by the dorm's front door, next to
a tall white column that supports the portico. If I'm interested in a
relationship, there have to be other girls that I could go after. Problem is,
I'm familiar with a vast majority of the girls on this campus, and I haven't
been interested in dating a single one of them. In fact, I haven't even gone on
a date since I was fourteen. That was before I became the star of my high
school football team, when I actually had to work for girls to sleep with me.

But Britt is Coach's daughter. And that prick already hates
me. He'd probably bench me for even being here, and then I'd have no chance at
being drafted in the pros. He'd have to make up some story about why I'm not
playing anymore – I don't think my pursuing his daughter would cut it – but I
wouldn't put it past him.

I'm jeopardizing my entire future by just sitting here, so
why aren't I leaving?

Chapter 11

Britt

Freshman campus is eerily quiet as I head back from the
library. I hear the echoes of some partygoer's laughter against the buildings,
but mostly people are already out at parties for the night. I feel a slight
pang of loneliness and frown down at the paved walkway in front of me.

I'm lost in thought, and head up the first step of my dorm
before I see him. Hunter Phillips, sitting just next to the door. He stares
back at me as I gape at him.

"Hi," I finally squeak out.

"Hi," he says. My heart races as he stands and I
feel myself flush. I've never felt so out of control of my body.

"Look, I was rude the other night," I start,
"and I owe you an explanation."

"No, I understand now. I know you're Coach's
daughter."

"Oh. Well…" I drift off. "How?"

It's dark, but I think I see a rueful smile cross his face.
"You were...
noticed
at the game today, and Coach made it clear
we're all meant to stay far away from you."

"I can't believe he did that," I grimace, but then
look up at him. "So he warned you away, but here you are."

"Here I am," he echoes, his deep voice seeming to
rumble around in his chest.

We both glance toward the quad as a large group of wasted
co-eds spills onto campus. There must be thirty or so of them, and they're all
in black and gold Vanover football jerseys and headed right for us.

"Shit," Hunter sighs. "I'm really not in the
mood."

"I thought you liked the attention," I say,
turning to face him.

"Usually," he says with a shrug. "I
just—" He breaks off as one of the women in the group shrieks. She's
spotted Hunter, and is leading her friends toward us at a sprint.

"Come on," I say, hurrying around him and swiping
my card to let us into the dorm. "We better take the stairs," I tell
him and he follows me into the stairwell. I run up the stairs, while his long
legs allow him to take them two at a time without seeming to be in a rush at
all.

Laughing, we burst into my room, and I lock the door behind
us. As I catch my breath, I begin to become more aware of the situation we're
in, alone together in my dorm room. I'm surprised to see that Hunter seems to
feel a little of the awkwardness, too.

"So, how's your roommate?" he asks, nodding toward
her empty bed and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Recovered, thanks to you," I tell him.
"Though very embarrassed. You played well today, by the way."

"Thanks. I'm hurting a little now, though," he
replies, sitting on my bed.

"Yeah, I saw that sack right before I left."

"I got distracted."

"By what?"

"You."

"Hunter, we can't—" I begin, but his huge hands
wrap around my stomach and he pulls me to him, opening his knees so that I'm
pressing against his tree trunk of a torso. With him sitting on my bed and me
standing, I can actually look into his dark brown eyes and see the tiny specks
of gold in his irises. All of a sudden, I'm having trouble breathing.

"Have you been thinking about me?" he asks. Even
if he weren't holding me, his gaze would pin me to this spot.

"Yes," I admit, my head spinning. With a growl,
like I've unleashed an animal, he pulls me tightly against him and covers my
lips with his. Unlike our gentle first kiss, this time I feel like he's
devouring me. And I love it.

Our tongues clash against each other's and his hands slide
over my ass. This time I don't pull away. I wrap my arms around his thick neck
and dig my fingers into his hair. His hands slide down my thighs and he pulls
me up and onto his crotch with my knees resting on either side of him on my bed.
I instinctively raise myself up and lower myself down again and feel his cock
slide against my jeans.

God, I want to feel him everywhere.
I'm filled with an almost uncontrollable urge to rip off my clothes, but
something holds me back. I'm still a virgin, and I know that I'm not ready yet.
Well, my body might be, but my heart and mind aren't.

"Hunter," I gasp, pulling
back and dismounting. "I'm sorry, this is just going too fast for
me."

I wonder if he's going to argue
with me, or try to pressure me, but instead he takes my hand. "Don't
apologize. It's me. I get around you and...do you want me to…?" he nods to
the door.

"You don't have to. I mean,
you could stay, if you want," I offer shyly.

"Really? Don't worry, I won't
try anything," he assures me. He glances around the room. "Wow, I
haven't done this in a really long time," he says with a somewhat bashful
smile.

"What?"

"Just, um, hung out."

"So mostly you just sleep with girls?" I ask,
sitting next to him on the bed.

"You really want to know this stuff?" he asks,
eyeing me.

I shrug. "Well, if it's the truth, then yeah."

"Okay, yeah. I have sex with women, and I don't get to
know them, and they don't get to know me."

"And then you talk about them in the locker room?"
I venture.

His head snaps to me. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replies slowly. "But I want you to
know that you...I would never talk about you like that."

"You know my dad hears that stuff right? He warned me
away from you guys, too."

He turns toward me intently. "So is that why he hates
me so much? The locker room talk? Because all the guys do that, but he seems to
have it out for me specifically."

"Um…" I hesitate.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to get you to break a
confidence."

"No, that's okay. I'm just, I'm trying to string
together what he's told me about you over the years," I reply with a
smile. "I think...I think he expects more from you than from the rest of
his players, that's all."

"But why? That's not fair," Hunter says, frustration
building on his face.

"When you first started, I remember him saying that he
was impressed by your talent, but he was more excited by the fact that you were
smart, that you actually had leadership potential. And then, well, you sort
of…"

"Disappointed the fuck out of him?" he asks
bitterly. "My dad always told me not to worry about that stuff, that pro
scouts aren't witnessing me giving pep talks, so what's the point? It's just a
waste of energy."

"Huh," I reply, trying to be diplomatic. "I
don't want to get in the middle here, but it sounds like one of those ways
you're more, and one of those ways you're less. I mean, the QB is the team's
leader. I think you'd be surprised how the players would follow you if you
showed them how. If you could truly inspire them."

"Inspire them?" he asks, flopping backward onto my
bed. "I'm not sure I'm up to that."

"Of course you are," I tell him. "You've just
never tried it before." I move to lie down next to him, and he turns on
his side to face me so that I can actually fit. When he lies on his back, his
shoulders reach almost all the way across my little twin-sized mattress.

"You say you're not a football fan, but it sounds like
you've picked up a lot," he observes with a smile, and I feel my body warm
at the sight of his lips curving.

"Well, it's just me and my dad, so sometimes he uses me
as a sounding board."

"Got any other tips for me?"

"Seriously? Because your footwork—"

He laughs. "No, no, forget it! I've already got enough
coaches telling me what to do. Tell me...tell me about your classes," he
finally says, and wraps an arm around me, pulling me in so that my head rests
in the crook of his neck.

"Okay, well, you know Fozzie Bear from the Muppets?
That's who my Pysch 101 teacher reminds me of," I say, and feel him bury
his head in my hair with a grin.  

Chapter 12

Hunter

I wake up, and feel an unfamiliar weight on my arm. I'm
about to shake it off, when I look down and realize that it's Britt's head, using
me as a pillow. An unfamiliar feeling of contentment spreads through me. I'm so
used to a feeling of restlessness...it drives me forward, making me want to be
better than everyone around me, but it also makes it nearly impossible to stop
and enjoy the moment. But right now, I feel like I could stay in this narrow
twin bed forever.

Well, maybe not forever. I do really need to piss. I look
down at Britt. She's half on top of me, since it's the only way we can fit on
this tiny mattress. I gently slide my hand under her head, intending to scoop
her up. Her eyes flutter open, her long eyelashes batting against her brow
bone.

"Hi," she whispers, blushing as though she feels
shy.

"Hi," I murmur back, and the shy feeling hits me,
too.

The door bursts open and we both start. "Hi," her
roommate says, standing frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide. "I'll
just—" she begins to turn around and leave.

"No, it's your room," I say, and Britt sits up to
allow me to get out of bed. I'm still in my clothes; we both fell asleep
talking with them on.

Danielle slowly closes the door. "Hey, um, Britt filled
me in on last weekend, and I just wanted to say thanks," she says.

"Don't worry about it," I tell her. "But if
you could maybe not tell anyone that—"

"I'm sworn to secrecy," Danielle assures me with a
smile.

"Well, I better get going then," I say, turning
back to Britt. She looks gorgeous, even first thing in the morning. Her lips
are the colors of raspberries, and she self-consciously tucks her unruly brown
curls behind her ears. "I need to see you again," I murmur into her
ear.

I watch a smile spread across her
face, and she crawls to the foot of her bed and reaches for a pencil and piece
of paper on her desk. She writes out her number, and then hands it to me. I
stuff it into my pocket, kiss her softly on the lips, and nod to Danielle, who
looks positively delighted by what she's witnessing.

As I head out of the dorm, I check the time on my phone.
Good thing Danielle woke us up, actually, because I need to be at practice. It's
not a full practice since we had a game last night, but Coach McKay wants the
first team to meet with our offensive coordinator to go over some missteps. Not
that any of them were on me. Some of these younger players just don't spend
enough time with the playbook and end up fucking up.

During the meeting, I listen with half an ear as I turn my
phone over and over in my pocket. I want to ask Britt on a proper date, but I
haven't had to do that for years. I guess I should call, rather than text.

Fuck, I know this is a bad idea. I mean, she's Coach's
daughter, and I could tell by the look in his eyes when he held Devon up
against those lockers that he wasn't fooling around. But there's something
about Britt...she's like a drug to me. The fact that I'm going to see her again
feels inevitable.

I want to roll my eyes as I catch Rob, the sophomore tight
end who fumbled in the game, frowning over the playbook, but then I catch
myself. I wonder what Britt would think of me, dismissing this kid so quickly.
She's a better person than me, that's obvious. So how can I make myself worthy
of her?

The meeting wraps up, and Rob looks like he's about to get a
migraine as he rubs his temples and stares at the patterns that our offensive
coordinator has been trying to drill into our heads. My body feels stiff and
bruised. There's nothing I'd like more right now than to head back to my
apartment and sink into a nice hot bath.

"Come on," I say to Rob, cuffing him on the
shoulder.

"What? Why?" he asks, looking alarmed.

"You're clearly not learning anything by sitting here,
so let's go," I reply brusquely, and he frowns. Shit, I sound like I'm
insulting him. I sigh. "I'm going to help you," I clarify.

"Oh, shit, really?" he asks, quickly getting to
his feet. I lead him down the hallway and out toward the practice field.
"This playbook is so overwhelming, man."

"Maybe you're just not a visual learner," I tell
him. "Some people have to learn by doing." I grab a rack of practice
balls and pull it onto the field behind me, rolling my shoulder around to get
it loose. Rob gets into the three-point position, and for the next hour, I
drill him over and over in our most commonly used plays. My throwing arm is
begging me for a break, but by the end, Rob looks way better than I've ever
seen him.

I turn back toward the building for a second, and see a face
watching us from the offices. It's Coach McKay, and he's staring right at me. I
look away, feeling unsettled. He couldn't have found out about me and Britt,
right?