1
BROOKE
“Girl, I’m in desperate need of a break,” my bestie says as we hustle our way through the crowd of students traveling across campus like a herd of slow-moving cattle.
“Easton wearing you out already with all that sex?”
Sasha’s eyes widen as she knocks her shoulder into mine. “What? Of course not!”
I grin as her face turns beet red.
Uh-huh, sure…
I know exactly what’s going on in the room across from mine. Those two are so loud it would be impossible not to know. Although, I can’t begrudge Sasha for finding her happily ever after and enjoying every moment of it.
That girl deserves it.
She’s been crushing on her best guy friend since they were kids and didn’t think there’d come a time when Easton saw her as anything more than his soccer-playing gal pal. But dreams really do come true, because here we are. They’ve been going strong for about a month now.
And it’s all thanks to yours truly. I’m the one who pushed her into going out with my hockey-playing cousin, Ryder. That was all the prompting Easton needed to see her for the gorgeous woman Sasha has grown into. And the rest is relationship history.
They fit so perfectly that it’s almost like they’ve been together for years. Two pieces of the same puzzle.
Am I a wee bit jealous of what they have?
Of course not.
All right, maybe a little. Who wouldn’t want to be with a guy who looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky especially for him? That’s exactly the way it is with Easton.
My last relationship ended in spectacular disaster. We’re talking flames, plumes of black smoke, and no survivors.
Andrew Hickenlooper.
Football player.
More like all-around player.
We were together for almost a year when I’d learned that he’d been cheating.
A nasty chlamydia diagnosis was the ultimate tip-off. Imagine sitting on a table in a doctor’s office, only to be told you had an STI. And since I wasn’t screwing around on the side, I knew exactly where it had come from.
The only thing worse than that was when he tried to deny it. When that didn’t work, he’d attempted to tell me that I caught it from a toilet seat.
Ummm…no.
It’s not called a sexually transmitted infection for nothing.
The situation jackhammered to an all-new low when I found out that almost everyone at Western knew he was screwing around behind my back, and that it had been going on throughout most of our relationship. I won’t lie, for a few minutes, I’d considered transferring colleges.
But here’s the thing—I didn’t do anything wrong.
Even though it wasn’t easy, I held my head up high and ignored all the ugly gossip until it eventually died down. Now, if Andrew would take a hint and leave me alone, I could finally put the whole nasty mess behind me, where it belongs.
“You might not have noticed, but the walls in our apartment are paper thin.”
“Oh, god,” she groans, cheeks growing more flushed with every step we take.
I can’t resist the chuckle that slips free.
“If we could go to his place, I would. But you know what it’s like over at the football house. Constant parties and cleat sniffers looking to get laid. I’d prefer to keep them away from my man.”
“Like you have anything to worry about. That guy only has eyes for one girl and that’s you, my friend.”
It’s sweet.
The smile that blooms across her face tells me that she knows it as well. Just as she opens her mouth to respond, strong arms wrap around her from behind and sweep her off her feet.
Literally.
Speak of the devil...
Sasha beams as Easton presses her against his muscular body. By the besotted look in my bestie’s eyes, the world around her has completely fallen away. People jostle past, shooting irritated looks in their direction, but neither cares. It wouldn’t surprise me to see little red and pink hearts dancing above their heads.
Ugh.
They’re seriously too cute for words. It’s enough to induce vomiting.
Just as I’m about to sigh, movement catches the corner of my eye. A shiver of awareness slices through me and the delicate hair at the nape of my neck prickles as my gaze lands on the figure loitering a few feet away.
Crosby Rhodes.
Left tackle for the Western Wildcats.
My initial reaction is to step away and put more distance between us, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I steel myself for a confrontation. I’ve spent too much time around him not to know exactly how this interaction will play out.
And that’s badly.
The funny part—if there’s anything amusing about this situation—is that he has a reputation on campus as a real player. The guy doesn’t do girlfriends. To my knowledge, he’s never entertained the idea of one. Even with his surly disposition, he can still charm the panties off any female within a ten-mile radius.