The Sophomore (College Years 2)

I jerk my gaze away from Ellie and Carson, the dick, to smile tightly at my friend. “Never better. What’s up?”

“What’s up with you? You looked ready to chew through steel just now,” Eli says, his brows lowered in concern.

“I’m fine,” I say with much more assuredness than I mean. I don’t feel fine though. I’m ready to fuck someone up. He touched her.

Touched her.

And she didn’t stop him.

“Jackson, what’s going on with your music right now?” Diego asks me. “Playing any shows soon?”

“I’m on hiatus during football season,” I tell him. “School and football don’t leave me much time to do anything else. I’ve written a couple of songs though.”

“That’s so cool,” Diego says, nodding. “You have options, and both are pretty great.”

“The football thing is going nowhere,” I say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I suck.”

“No, you don’t,” Eli says, immediately rushing to my defense. “You just haven’t had a chance yet to show them what you can really do.”

I completely ignore what Eli says. “I look at it like a vacation. I’m getting a little time off right now with my ass warming the bench.”

They all laugh, including me, and yeah, I’m trying to make light of it. I’ve tried to act like it’s no big deal all season, but I’m starting to feel a little low. Like, why am I even doing this? I enjoy being with my friends and being part of a team, but if I can’t get on the field, then what’s the point? I always bring my all during every practice, and the coaches lavish on the praise when I do something exceptional, which is more often than me screwing up. But they never put me out there during a game.

If this keeps up, I’m out. Seriously. I’m starting to feel like a complete loser, while the rest of my friends are actually playing. Even Caleb is out on the field during games.

We talk more about football and the upcoming game this Saturday. We’re flying to San Diego, so at least we’re not stuck on a bus for hours. Granted, it would be a nice bus, but still. My gaze slips to Ellie every time she passes by, lingering on her until she’s out of my line of vision. Carson is now sitting at a table, eating his food by himself. She stops by every few minutes to say something to him.

Yet, she’s never come back over to our table to say something to me.

What the hell kind of game is she playing? Does she need a reminder of who made her come all over his fingers last night?

Determination filling me, I rise to my feet, without saying anything, about to leave the table when Caleb pipes up.

“Where you goin’?”

“Gotta piss,” I lie.

I make my way toward Ellie, who is currently at a table near the back of the restaurant, close to the bathrooms. She’s cleaning off a table, stacking empty beer glasses in a tub when she sees me. She stands up straighter, wiping her hand on a dishtowel as I approach.

“Hey,” she says.

“Chat for a minute?”

“Uh—”

I grab her elbow and steer her toward the bathrooms, not giving her a chance to answer. I pull her into the short hallway, tucking the two of us into the farthest, darkest corner, her back to the wall, me standing directly in front of her.

“Jackson,” she hisses. “I’m at work.”

I kiss her, effectively shutting her up. She responds immediately, her arms coming around my neck, her lips parting for my invading tongue. I plunder her mouth, sending her the reminder she needs.

I’m the one she wants. I’m the one she’s kissing right now. And I’m determined to make her forget that little fuck Carson is trying to make a move on her.

When I finally end the kiss, we’re both breathing hard, and she’s gazing up at me with wide, dazed eyes. Reaching out, I trail my fingers along her delicate jaw, ignoring the swarm of confusing emotions that swirl within me.

“What was that for?” she asks, breathless.

“Just wanted to kiss you.” I do it again, keeping it light and quick. “I really like the braids.” I tug on the end of one, unable to resist.