I Promise You: Stand-Alone College Sports Romance(18)

“Damn. Where’s the popcorn?” Sawyer says under his breath. “How did we miss this last night?”

I missed it because I ditched the party. I jump in to defuse the situation. “Hang on, Chantal. Obviously, you’ve changed your mind about the contest. I’m what you girls call high maintenance, and you made the right choice. You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to do anyone’s bidding. Be you. Be fierce, I say.” I toss an arm around her and give her a quick hug.

Chantal gives me a thoughtful look. “Honestly? Seeing how Serena didn’t fall under your spell like everyone else got to me. Being part of the contest is exciting, and I do love to win, especially beating Ashley”—her lips tighten—“but I don’t relish the idea of spending the next few weeks researching team stats just for the chance of a date with you.” She shrugs. “Besides, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of us.”

“What?” Sawyer says, eyes swiveling to me. “Is that true? Are you making the contest difficult? You know this is an important tradition.”

“If it’s so important, why didn’t you do it? You’re not dating anyone,” I mutter.

“Yet.”

Okay, not sure what that means… “I’ve done nothing but let the girls hang around, as asked!”

“Uh-huh,” Chantal replies.

The sorority never set any rules for the contest, so there is some gray area. Perhaps I took some liberties by asking the girls to come up with the statistical analysis, but I’m desperate. Since classes started, the three of them have been following me around, offering to pick up my books, cleaning my room, rubbing my shoulders. Yeah, normally that’s cool and girls have done this for me in the past with no expectation, but now, it’s like a gnat in my ear. They’re more vicious than a defensive player when it comes to competing, even sweet Bambi.

I heave out a breath. Of course, I could just be a dick to the girls to run them off. I’m just a trophy for them, a popular guy on their arm, but I don’t want to let my team down. They’re counting on this. Could I sit down with Sawyer and explain how this contest, coupled with my anxiety, is aggravating? Sure, but we’re dudes, and I don’t talk to him about deep things. I give off a carefree vibe, but on the inside, I keep my feelings locked down. I’m the team captain. I have to be strong and suck it up. Plus, it’s too late. They voted in May and the deal is done. I have to follow through or risk the season. If it’s a bad year and I don’t do the rituals, the team might blame me.

“She isn’t part of your posse anymore,” Troy mutters as he elbows me out of the way, shuffling between Chantal and me as he attempts to take her arm.

“Stop assuming you know what I want, Troy,” she snips, shaking him off.

As soon as they step out on the front porch, I punch into the air. “One girl down, baby.”

Sawyer sighs. “I like having girls around though. It’s our senior year. We need to soak it up. I’m going to arrange a pool tournament for Ashley and Bambi to compete in. We need to find another Theta to fill in for Chantal’s spot. Their treasurer is a hot little strawberry blonde—”

“Nope. Don’t you dare,” I call out as I stalk back to my room to grab my duffle for practice.

His laughter follows me, a reminder that he can afford to be relaxed about this year. His stats are incredible. Not as good as Blaze’s last season, but he’ll be drafted. He’s a starter and cool under pressure. Me—I’m freaking out.

I just hope I’m the one throwing him the ball this year.





6





After a team meeting, we grab our helmets and head out to the field. “Alvarez is supposed to announce the quarterback today. You ready?” Sawyer asks as he slides his gloves on.

“It has to be me.” I’ve put in the years, the work—

“Don’t be so sure,” Owen Sinclair says, interrupting as he jogs up with a football in his hand. About six one, he’s lean and fast, his face smug as he rakes his pine green eyes over me. His hair is cobalt blue, a fauxhawk with lightning bolts shaved on the sides of his head.

I tense, waiting for his usual dig. Three, two, one…

“Coach loves how I throw, McQueen. Told me so himself every time he watched me play. Did I tell you he came to see me three times in Florida?”

“Almost every day.”

He bounces a football in the air, one he’s always holding, on the sidelines, in the locker room—hell, word is he even carries one to class. He also shows up for practice half an hour early every day. I know because I do too. He’s a competitive little shit.

I snatch his ball in midair. “Timing in college is different than high school.” I toss the ball back to him. “You’ll get there by the end of the year, rookie.”

His lips tighten as he palms the ball and spots Kendrick Rose, another super freshman. Sawyer’s gaze is on that one. Yeah, welcome to my world, where the young guns have us in their sights. It’s cool, I get it, but Sinclair takes it a step further, and I get the sense he’s in it for the glory. I’m in it because it’s all I have. I live and breathe this game. I have since I was ten years old and moved from Malibu to Alabama. While my parents’ marriage was falling apart, I clung to the one thing I was good at.