Campus God (Campus)

My phone chimes with a photo, and the smile I’d been wearing somehow grows wider.

It’s a pic of her bare belly. I drag my thumb over the photo as if it’s possible to touch her. It’s more than enough to have my cock stiffening up.

That’s all you get.

I hunker over my phone and shoot off a response.

I’ll take it.

We go back and forth about our day. I tell her everything, omitting details about football practice. And then she does the same, telling me about her classes and friends.

Even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this question, I ask it anyway.

Do you have a boyfriend?

Bubbles appear as every muscle becomes whipcord tight. I mean…it’s possible that she’s been seeing someone. Even though I try to keep tabs on her, I don’t know everything. If she is, I’ll be forced to rip the guy limb from limb.

Nope.

Relief has my muscles turning lax.

How long has it been since you were involved in a relationship?

I don’t know why I’m asking. Maybe, on some level, I want her to verify that she no longer has feelings for Andrew. Because if she does…

Wow. We’re really getting into it, aren’t we?

I smirk. She has no fucking idea just how into it we’re about to get.

Yup. Now spill.

I haven’t dated in six months. I got burned pretty badly by the last guy I was with.

What happened?

Cheated on. Lots of times.

Ouch. That must have hurt.

It did. I felt like an idiot because I was totally oblivious. Kind of hard to trust anyone after that kind of mindfuck.

I drag a hand across my face. There were too many times to count when I was tempted to pull Brooke aside and clue her in as to what was going on behind her back. Or send her an anonymous note.

Something.

Anything.

But Andrew is one of my oldest friends. How could I really turn around and betray him like that? Even if he was in the wrong. It was a shit place to be.

I’m sorry that happened to you.

That, at least, is the truth.

Me, too.

So…you’re done with dating? You’ve resigned yourself to spinsterhood and a couple of cats?

At least a dozen. Lol!

Another chuckle escapes from me. This is exactly the way it is with this girl. Talking to her—even through text—makes me happy. I’ve never felt like that before. Then again, when have I ever spent time just talking with a chick? Actually drilling beneath the surface and getting to know someone?

The answer to that would be never.

Brooke is a first. And I don’t want it to end.

Before I can fire off another text, a second one rolls in.

When I finally decide to get back out there again, it’s going to take the right guy. Or maybe I should say that I won’t be dating any more athletes. Please tell me you’re not one of those.

I wince.

Fuck.

The lies just keep piling up.

But what can I do? Tell her the truth? I’m already in too deep to do that.

Nope.

Are you sure? You’ve certainly got the abs of one.

Umm…thank you?

She responds with a laughing emoji.

I like to work out. There’s no shame in my game.

Clearly.

I’m sensing you might want more pics.

I certainly wouldn’t say no…

Christ…my cheeks are beginning to hurt from all the smiling. Honestly, this isn’t me. It’s never been me. Brooke would be shocked if she discovered that I was the guy behind the texting. She knows me as a moody bastard. Surly. Always ready with a shitty comment to keep her at arm’s length. And now look at me. I’m like a giddy schoolgirl.

This is bad. Really bad. It’s like quicksand. The more I flail about, the deeper I get sucked in.

With abs like that, I imagine you have a girlfriend.

Is that your way of lowkey asking if I’m available?

Maybe.

I blow out a steady breath.

Nope. No girlfriend.

When was the last time you were involved in a relationship?

Do I tell her the truth?

I fucking hate all these lies. There’s already enough I’m keeping from her. I should be honest whenever possible.

Never.

That response is met with a long silence.

Like, ever?

Nope.

Hmmm.

Hmmm?

And you’re NOT an athlete?

Fuck

Nope.

Because I refuse to date another one.

Interesting. So does this mean we’re going to date?

The words are flying across the keyboard before I can stop them.

What the hell am I doing?

She sends back a laughing emoji.

A second message rolls in before I can fire off another.

You’re really easy to talk to.

I feel the same.

This is the first time I’ve had a genuine conversation or connection with a girl who wasn’t interested in me because of my status on the team. They talk about dudes bagging as many girls as they can. But you know what? Chicks can be just as mercenary, and don’t try to tell me different. It’s like some of these jersey chasers have a team roster they’re carefully working their way through.