Campus Player

“I tried to pay,” I say with a shrug. “He wouldn’t accept it.”

“The least you could do is offer me a slice.”

I wave my hand toward the kitchen. “Be my guest. You know where the plates are.” Rowan probably knows the set up of this house as well as I do. He’s certainly been here enough times.

He takes one step toward the kitchen before grinding to a halt. With more interest, his gaze slides over the length of me. It’s a physical caress I feel straight down to my bones. Only then, do I become aware of my fashion choices for the evening. Since I wasn’t expecting company, I’m wearing tiny pajama shorts and an oversized Wildcats jersey.

Minus a bra.

Did I mention that Rowan’s name is stamped across the back?

“Huh.” The frown he had been wearing morphs into a smirk. “Nice shirt.”

A bolt of heat hits my cheeks. I could kick myself for giving in to the urge when I came across the jersey stuffed in my dresser drawer. “Don’t read anything into it. Dad gave it to me a while ago. He mentioned something about there being a lot of extras they needed to get rid of.”

“Is that so?” With a grin, he strokes his fingers over the sexy five o’clock shadow that lines his jaw. For a moment, I get caught up in the movement. “Usually, the campus bookstore can’t keep my jersey stocked on the shelves.”

I shrug, feeling very much like a groupie with a Rowan Michaels crush. This guy already has a massive ego. The last thing I want to be accused of is stroking it.

“Looks good on you.” His voice drops, strumming something deep inside as heat fills his eyes.

There is no way I’m touching that comment with a ten-foot pole.

When I remain silent, he disappears into the kitchen, presumably to grab a plate and something to drink. An army of butterflies wing their way to life in the pit of my belly as I migrate to the couch, settling at the far end to give him enough room in case he decides to bypass the armchair. Instead, he takes a seat directly next to me, barely leaving a few inches of space to separate us. I’m ridiculously aware of his muscular body next to mine. Even though I try to tamp down the sparks of attraction shooting through me, they flare to life like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He points to the big screen television mounted over the fireplace. “What are we watching?”

We?

When did this situation turn into a we?

“A psychological thriller that came out last summer.” I clear my throat and stare at the frozen screen. “You, ah, don’t have to stay.” My gaze flicks to his. “I’m fine. I just needed to get away from campus for a bit.”

“I don’t mind hanging out.” He shrugs as his gaze collides with mine. “Plus, I could use a breather. It would be kind of nice to chill for the evening.”

I gnaw my lower lip with indecision. The two of us spending more time alone together sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. All of my usual defenses have been beaten down, which has left me feeling unusually vulnerable where Rowan is concerned.

When I remain silent, his voice drops. “No one knows I’m here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Those butterflies now feel more like an uncontrollable horde trying to fight their way out by any means necessary.

Is that my concern?

That people might find out we’re spending time together? It would only feed the rumors and speculation already running rampant. And yet, I’m strangely torn. There is something comforting about his presence.

“Demi?”

The scrape of his voice jostles me from the internal struggle being waged within. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Carefully he searches my face. “If you want me to take off, I will.”

Even though I’m confused, I shake my head. All we’re going to do is eat pizza and watch a movie. What could possibly go wrong?

It’s probably best not to answer that question.

In no time at all, we polish off the pizza. Apparently, Rowan is as hungry as I am. While he runs the plates to the kitchen, I restart the movie. It takes about fifteen minutes to lose myself in the plot and forget about the handsome football player sitting next to me. When he shifts, slinging an arm across the back of the couch, I don’t pay much attention to it. My focus remains on the screen. My muscles coil when the violins of the musical score grow more pronounced. I shutter my eyes before peeking through the cracks between my fingers.

Something’s about to—

I yelp when the villain jumps out.

“How did you not see that coming?” Rowan chuckles, stroking my shoulder with his fingers.

“I knew something was going to happen,” I mumble as my heart beats into overdrive, “just not that.”