“I’m serious,” he says, pushing the subject.
Yeah, that’s the scary part.
I shake my head, ready to put an end to this conversation.
Over the years, there have been a few girlfriends. What I’ve discovered is that they’re more of a hassle than they’re worth. Division I football is more like a job, and my schedule is packed tight. My life revolves around practice, lifting, film review, travel, and games. Most of the chicks I’ve dated get bent out of shape when they aren’t moved to the top of my priority list and end up forcing me to choose.
Want to guess what gets downsized?
I’ll give you a hint...it’s not football.
After the first couple of times it happened, I decided having a permanent girl in my life wasn’t worth the price of admission. Sure, it would be nice to find someone to spend time with, but that’s just not in the cards. And quite frankly, I’m not sure it will be in the near future. Not with wrapping up my last year of school and hopefully getting picked up by the pros. It’s just easier to screw around with the jersey chasers on campus. For the most part, they understand that sex is nothing more than an hour or so of mindless pleasure. They get to brag about banging guys on the team, and I get a little stress relief to take the edge off.
“Then Kira would have no choice but to leave you alone,” he continues as if I haven’t already nixed the idea.
Like I need to get myself entangled in one bad situation just to get out of another... What the hell would be the point of that?
“She should have backed off when I flat-out told her that nothing was ever going to happen between us,” I mutter.
“Again, if you weren’t so pretty, girls wouldn’t lose their damn minds over you.” His lips curl around the edges before he tacks on slyly, “Mr. Campus Heartthrob.”
I wince at the title I’ve won three years in a row.
Talk about embarrassing.
Sure, I’ll admit it—I was flattered at first. Who wouldn’t be? I got a ton of pussy by winning that stupid competition. My teammates were jealous, and I didn’t mind rubbing it in their faces. As difficult as it is to imagine, screwing your way through all the girls vying to sleep with you gets old after a while. Now the damn thing is just a nuisance. Like I need these chicks trailing after me, following me around all over the place.
Nope. I’m over it.
Last year, I didn’t enter the contest and still managed to win. How is that even possible?
My lips flatten before I grumble, “I prefer to think of it as ruggedly handsome. No dude wants to be called pretty.”
“Please,” he snorts, “your face could be plastered on a billboard. I’m surprised there aren’t more crazies coming out of the woodwork just to sleep with you.”
“Bite your tongue,” I grunt. I don’t even want to imagine that. I’ve got my hands full as it is. The last thing I need is to add more bullshit into the mix.
“I don’t know, man. I think the girlfriend idea is worth considering. It could be the solution to all your problems.”
“Or just give me more headaches.” I shift my weight and take another drink from my bottle. “There’s only one flaw with your plan. There aren’t any girls I’m even remotely interested in.”
His brows jerk together. “Who said anything about this being a real situation? I’m talking about finding a friend who could pretend to like your ass for a couple of weeks. Someone who wouldn’t mind doing you a solid.” He tilts his head. “Don’t you know anyone like that who fits the bill?”
Hmm. I suppose a ploy like that could work. Except...there aren’t any females who I’m strictly friends with. Even the ones who pretend to be platonic end up throwing themselves at me at some point. And the ones who get all drunk at parties and start sobbing about how much they love me are the absolute worst.
“Not really.” I shake my head. “Any other bright ideas?”
He nods toward the backdoor. “I guess you could always try to make a run for it. Lay low at Rowan’s girl’s place for a couple of hours until Kira gets bored and finally takes off.”
Yeah, the last time I did that, she waited around for five hours. Let that sink in.
Five.
Full.
Hours.
The woman is seriously tenacious. Must be part of the stalker job description.
I turn the suggestion over in my head. Heading over to Demi’s would give me a chance to see Sydney. And I rarely pass up an opportunity to do that. There’s something about the blonde-haired, green-eyed soccer player that has gotten under my skin. Kind of like an itch that is impossible to scratch. And steroids haven’t done the trick to cure it, either. If she’s anywhere in the vicinity, my attention is locked on her.