Spiked

“I’m not— but I’m thinking about taking this next semester. Thought I’d get a preview,” Jacob said with a dashing smile.

“Well, we’re pleased to have you here,” the professor said, and this looked true— the man actually glowed a bit, like Jacob Everett’s presence was akin to having Will or Kate show up in his lecture hall.

The professor launched into the lecture and I tried in vain to follow along and take notes. Jacob, however, was too distracting for me to do much of anything but focus on my breathing. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to get angry at him, get even for the thing with the tickets, wanted to kiss him, wanted to slap him. I just wanted him.

But I was also afraid. He was still bigger than life, literally and figuratively.

The class was nearly over when a note slid across my desk, written in barely legible handwriting.

You seriously chose this as an elective?

The note had arrived so quickly that I only caught the smallest glimpse of Jacob pulling back after depositing it on my desk. I forced myself to take a slow, steady breath, then wrote a careful response.

How do you know that? What are you doing?

I handed it back, painfully aware of the fact that even though the professor didn’t notice, I was most definitely being watched by the rest of the students in the hall behind me.

The note popped back to me quickly.

I make it a point to know about people that interest me.

I avoided his eyes and wrote in response, pleased that I could write what I didn’t have the nerve to say.

Little bit stalkerish.

He laughed when he read the note— out loud, bright and cheerful, and the professor turned around.

“Everything all right, Mr. Everett?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. What you just said reminded me of something. I apologize,” Jacob said swiftly, with the confidence of a guy who had talked his way out of trouble since grade school.

The professor— who normally hated being interrupted, smiled and went on like nothing had happened. A few moments later, the note came back.

9:30 pm

Manhattan Bar

I started. Was he serious? I dared to look at him and, to my surprise, saw that although his eyes were heavy on me, his mouth was no longer curved into that wry, arrogant smile. He looked…eager. Hopeful, maybe— like the note was more of a question than I’d immediately thought.

I folded the piece of paper in half quietly and, after taking a deep breath, nodded once. Jacob broke into a grin, then stood up.

“Thanks so much for letting me sit in, professor, but I’ve got to get to weight training. But this class is great! I’ll definitely look into adding it next semester,” Jacob said, voice commanding the room.

“We’d love to have you. Please email me if you have any questions about it, alright?” the professor said cheerily.

Jacob nodded and gave a sort of saluting wave, then darted up the lecture hall steps three at a time, a giant in a room made for mortals. He pushed through the doors at the top, and just like that, was gone— but there was no recovering from the buzz or energy and excitement that he left in his wake. Everyone, it seemed, even the professor, could feel it. He was Harton’s hero, after all. And, from the looks of it, I had a date with him that evening.

No, it wasn’t a date.

A date would imply him asking me out, and he hadn’t. He’d just given me a piece of paper with a time and a place on it. This was an appointment, basically.

I repeated this to myself over and over as I got dressed that evening— wearing one of the outfits I’d bought with my ticket money. Jacob Everett had consumed my thoughts for most of the day, and I was slowly growing furious over the fact. I was here to study, not to get stalked by some sort of football god. I ran through all the things I wanted to say to him tonight to make sure he understood that I had no interest in being one of his pre-game blowjob girls, thank you very much.

Except, when I thought that, I started thinking about what it would be like to give him a blowjob, which consumed my thoughts to the point that I considered touching myself for a bit to calm myself down, relieve some tension. But then it occurred to me that that was the exact purpose of Jacob’s pre-game blowjobs, and I didn’t want to have anything in common with him, since he was obviously just a big-headed jock that was just messing with my head.

Right?

Right.

“What are you all dressed up for?” Piper asked when I emerged from my room. Piper had settled down a little after the drama of the Football House party and the free tickets, though she was still edgy around me. Kiersten more often than not served as the in-between, the person whose presence made the air in our home a little less tense. Still, it was clear to me that in a pinch, Kiersten would always team up with Piper.