“We haven’t met, but I wanted to come by and do you a personal favor.” She pursed her lips.

“Everyone has been talking about how he hasn’t been attending the usual parties or hitting up any of the girls he used to fuck.” She let the word ‘fuck’ hang in the air for a few seconds. “He’s somehow trading all of that in for spending time with ‘that whack ass Charlotte girl’ i.e. you, so I thought I’d warn you that he’ll never claim you as anything more than an off-field hobby.”

I’d never slapped someone mid-sentence before, but this girl was seconds away from being the victim of my first attempt.

“I know his M.O.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and looked sympathetic. “He’ll say all the right things and pretend that he wants more from you, that he’s interested in being in a real relationship. He’ll take you on dates in cute cafes to make it look like he’s publicly into you. You may even get a few late nights talking on the phone and some weekend dates, but he’ll never kiss you in public. Even if he does, it’ll be in some corner at night, his car, or some isolated place where he can make sure no one else knows about your pseudo-relationship. When you finally ask to be official, he’ll hit you with his trademark, “I don’t do girlfriends, but I like what we have” line. And once he’s tired of you—and he will get tired of you—he’ll dump you and do it to someone else. Because there will always be someone else willing and waiting to sleep with him in a heartbeat. I wish I listened to those rumors myself. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted an entire summer of my life.”

I stared at her, half wondering where I’d seen her before and half debating whether I still had time to go for the slap.

She turned away as Grayson pulled up to the curb. “You’re welcome for the warning.”

“I don’t recall saying thank you.” I stepped outside and forced a smile as Grayson opened the passenger door for me.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No.” I got into the car and stared straight ahead, trying to think about anything else but what that psycho brunette said. I tried to remember what Nadira told me weeks ago when the onslaught of friend requests began.

“Please don’t let any of these jealous and petty girls get to you.”

Grayson clasped my hand behind the gear shift as we approached a red-light. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“I’m a little tired.” I looked over at him. “That’s all.”

“I’ll bring you back whenever you’re ready to leave—after your two hours, that is. Unless you want to spend the night.”

“I didn’t bring any overnight clothes.”

“It’s not too late for me to turn around.”

I laughed and he continued driving, speeding across the lanes until we reached his apartment. There was a line of people standing outside his door already, and I could hear the bass of the music from the parking lot.

He helped me out of his car and pressed his hand against the small of my back, leading me around to the back entrance. He led me through the grinding bodies in the hallways and the raucous shouting in the living room.

“About time you made it back!” Kyle handed him a beer once we made it to the kitchen. Then he looked at me and smiled. “I made some coffee and cookies especially for you tonight, Charlotte. They’re on the counter.”

“Shut up, Kyle.” Grayson gave me his beer. “Is everyone from the team here?”

“Yeah. You ready to give 10-0 speeches?”

“Absolutely,” Grayson said. He bent down and whispered to me. “You’re staying for two hours, right?”

“Yes.” I sipped the beer and followed them to the living room.

All the football players were huddled around the makeshift DJ booth and chanting, “10-0, 10-0” as the music continued to pulsate through the apartment. In between every song, one of them would grab the mic and make a hilarious, yet completely un-humble speech. They capped off each of their crude soliloquies by taking off their shirts, much to the delight of their screaming fangirls.

“God, he’s so sexy.” A girl on my right whispered to her friend as Grayson took off his shirt and exposed his abs. “I’m going to talk to him tonight.”

“Really?” Her friend moved closer. “About what?”

“About sex with him.” She laughed. “What else? Years from now, I’ll be able to look back on my college years and brag about how I slept with the number one draft pick.”

“Not if I sleep with him first.”

She and her friend laughed louder, and I replayed every word that brunette said to me earlier. I mentally rewound all the recent moments I’d spent with Grayson in cafes and diners, how the stares and jealous glares in my direction always followed. His smile always helped me to ignore them, but after watching at least twenty girls walk up to him tonight and rub his shoulder or offer a “congratulations on being undefeated” hug that was a little too long, I realized that maybe that brunette had a point.

A misguided point, but a point nonetheless.

I downed the rest of my beer and pushed my way through the crowd, walking into Grayson’s bedroom. I shut the door and checked the pickup times for the next Safe Rider shuttle. Then I sent Grayson a text.

ME: I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to head home. (I’ll make this up to you later, I promise.)

I typed in my dorm address as the “drop off” location in the Safe Rider app, but before I could hit “request ride,” Grayson walked into the room and lifted my phone from my hands. He slipped it into his pocket and locked the door.

“You told me nothing was wrong with you,” he said. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit, Charlotte.” He looked into my eyes. “Tell me right now.”

“Before you picked me up at my dorm tonight, one of your ex-girlfriends approached me.”

“I don’t have any ex-girlfriends.”

“She seems to think differently then.”

“I see.” He clenched his jaw. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing concrete, she just put everything in perspective.”

“Tell me what she said, Charlotte.” He looked livid, but his voice was calm.

“She said that you’re putting on an act, that you’ll never really claim me and that everything we’re currently doing—the secret kisses, private meetings, and late night talks on the phone are part of your usual game and will eventually lead to disastrous results,” I said. “I brushed it off, but when I got here and had to listen to a few of your fangirls talk about how determined they are to have sex with you before you get drafted, I realized she had a point. So, as much as I do really like you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to deal with—”

“Stop.” He pressed his finger against my lips. “We’re going to put an end to this right now.” He walked me over to a chair, but he didn’t let me sit. Instead, he kept the chair for himself and clasped my hands—pulling me between his legs.

“First things first,” he said, “you’re the one who insists on kissing in secret and shit like we’re not adults. I’ve told you every day for the past couple weeks that we’re beyond friends at this point, that I want to date you, but you always deflect or act like you don’t hear me. Second, I have no interest in doing anything with anyone on this campus but you, so a couple random girls saying that they want to sleep with me shouldn’t get under your skin at all.”

“I just don’t think you understand how popular you are sometimes.”

“No, I know exactly how popular I am.” A cocky smile formed on his lips, and he pulled me closer so my knees were touching the chair cushion. “It’s flattering, but it’s also fake as hell. I can’t control how the other people on campus act toward us, but I would appreciate it if you start telling me the truth about things as they happen so I can fix it before you start looking for excuses to break up with me.”