Campus Player

I don’t need to glance at the person holding me to realize who it is. My skin is abuzz with recognition. There’s only one guy capable of producing that kind of sensation within me.

Rowan.

As if to solidify my suspicions, he growls, “Knock it off, Harrison.” He pulls me so close that I’m able to feel every hard line of his body. Another punch of awareness hits me before settling in my core. “Leave her alone.”

The deep rumble of his voice ties my insides up into a series of complicated little knots. As much as I want to pretend I’m stone cold inside and feel nothing where Rowan is concerned, I can’t. The attraction is too explosive to ignore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why can’t I control my body’s reaction to him?

It’s frustrating to want someone you know you can’t have. Someone who isn’t good for you. And yet, that knowledge does nothing to stop the surge of hormones from flooding through me, lighting me up from the inside out. Since day one, when we were fourteen years old, I’ve been all too aware of Rowan Michaels. He’s ridiculously good looking. I can acknowledge that. At least privately to myself. And from the attention he garners, I’m certainly not the only one who thinks so.

Up to this point, I’ve been successful in pushing all thoughts of him to the back of my brain, where I can ignore them. That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, and I don’t understand why. Something indelible has changed, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s like we’ve reached a tipping point.

What I need right now is for our relationship to go back to the way it’s always been.

Is that even possible?

For some reason, I don’t think so.

And that, my friends, is a huge freaking problem. One I have no idea how to solve.

With no other choice but to confront the situation, I spin around in his arms before pressing my palms against his chest.

What is it about him that makes my pulse race?

I’ve never been attracted to guys with hair that nearly brushes their shoulders. I’ve always gone for clean cut boys. And yet, my fingers itch to tangle in the thick length. And when he wears one of those hair band thingies at practice?

A shiver slides through me just thinking about it.

The intensity of his gaze burns into mine, and it takes a moment to find my voice. “You’re kind of a buzzkill.” I exhale as everything spinning gradually resettles inside me. The last thing I want or need is for him to realize how easily he’s able to knock me off-kilter.

Rowan quirks a brow. “Is that so?”

“Yes. We were dancing. It wasn’t a big deal.”

He doesn’t move, and yet somehow manages to loom closer, obscuring everything in my line of sight except for him. The raucous party fades as I’m trapped in the blueness of his eyes. They remind me so much of the ocean. Of waves crashing against the shoreline. It takes everything I have inside not to glance away and reveal how much he unnerves me. Even when my knees turn to jelly and I’m in immanent danger of sliding to the floor, I hold myself upright.

“It’s doubtful Coach would approve of his players grinding up on his daughter.”

He’s right. Dad wouldn’t care for it at all.

But that doesn’t stop me from firing back with, “Do you think he would approve of you holding me like this?” His hands burn into my bare skin, making me wonder if I’ll be sporting marks for days.

His lips thin as his eyes darken. “Probably not.”

When his arms reluctantly fall to his sides, I take a hasty step back, needing distance to regain my bearings. I don’t fool myself into believing it’s anything less than full-on retreat. I need to distance myself from Rowan before something happens. There’s an explosive energy brewing in the air. It feels as if one strike of a match could blow us all to hell. I can’t take the chance of our relationship shifting anymore than it already has.

“I need to find Justin.” Before Rowan can deter me, I swing away, shoving through the thick crowd that presses in on me. The more space I put between us, the easier it is to think straight. No one has ever affected me this way. Certainly not Justin. If I’m lucky, I won’t run into Rowan again for the rest of the night. It’s bad enough I see him three times a week in stats, and he insists on parking himself next to me every class period. Now I’ll have to spend time tutoring him.

Alone.

I gulp down the strange mixture of nerves and excitement that burst inside me like an overinflated balloon.

When I set out this evening, I had no desire to meet up with the dark-haired baseball player. I figured we would talk at some point over the weekend, and I would gently break off our relationship. But right now, he feels like the safest alternative. Once I find him, I plan on sticking to the guy like glue.