Chapter 2

Lincoln

If I were a betting man, I’d say this chick’s breasts are as fake as the smile she’s trying to pass on to me. I’ll give her some bonus points for trying to appear genuine.

Her smile. Not her breasts.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against gummy bears. When I was twelve, my grandma battled breast cancer and had a full mastectomy, followed by breast augmentation. No judging here. But this chick wants people to notice them. That’s why her shirt is so low, and she’s not wearing a bra, exposing the full form of her breasts through her thin tee.

“Hey, Pres.” She giggles. “How was your summer?”

Much of the past few months was spent with my future-to-be-step-mother drinking herself comatose and my dad ignoring her obvious issues by riding my ass and reminding me how few are drafted into the NFL and how I should be following in his footsteps. Steps that would lead me to a corner office, a plush salary, and the letters J.D. to follow my last name. A lawyer. A suit. He’s paved the road for me, and his last name—my last name is on the stationary and brick building, waiting for me to join and eventually become a partner. He has it all planned out. They don’t want to hear about the mornings I woke up too early to drive to the college to practice or the days I spent in the weight room, strengthening to secure my starting position. But that’s not what she or anyone else wants to hear. They want me to tell them my summer was nothing short of perfection, filled with vacations abroad where I laid on white-sand beaches and napped, and girls want to hear that I missed them.

I also wish this alternate reality was real. But it’s about as real as her breasts.

I smile. “It was great. How was yours?”

She leans forward, laughing though I haven’t said anything to warrant humor.

Beside me, Poppy clears her throat. Like this girl, Poppy doesn’t make any attempt to make her interruption seem authentic. “Sorry to interrupt, but we were just going.”

My knowledge of Poppy could fit on a notecard: she’s Raegan’s best friend. She has a really loud laugh. Her expressions expose her feelings at all times. And, like Raegan, she’s a “good girl.”

The stranger doesn’t seem deterred, or if she is, her smile doesn’t show it. She’s confident. I like that.

“Maybe you could catch up with Pres later?” She keeps her eyes on me, holding my stare.

She’s bold.

Arlo chuckles then pats my shoulder. “I’ll see you at practice.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch him hook an arm around Poppy's shoulders and walk away.

“Sorry. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” She smiles again, this time wider like she’s hoping I’ll admit that she did. Admit that I’ve chosen her as the victor.

I didn’t.

Not entirely.

Well, maybe for the moment, she won, but in reality, I have to head in the opposite direction of where those two are headed, so it’s kind of irrelevant.

“I’m Julia.”

“Nice to meet you, Julia.”

She giggles when her name leaves my lips.

“I have to go to class, but,” she looks toward the math building, then back to me, hope rounding her light blue eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” That confidence radiates in her eyes before she turns and saunters away, pausing to look over her shoulder and wave before continuing on.

Julia.

It’s a cute name.

A cute girl.

I could get behind that.

I check my watch and realize I’m going to be late if I don’t hustle. I have to jog to my class, arriving with a thin layer of perspiration on my forehead.

“Hey!” A girl in the next seat says as I try to extend my legs and get comfortable. I don’t recognize her, but she’s staring at me as I should.

“Hey. How are you?”

She runs her hand through her hair and smiles. “I’m glad we have a class together this year.”

I nod. “Definitely.”

Her smile grows, and just like that, she’s offering to take notes for me.

The next couple of days pass in a similar fashion, school and practice stealing most of my time.

It’s Friday afternoon, and the house is quiet. It’s just Paxton and me watching tape of the Huskies, one of our greatest rivals. We have a game against them in just four weeks, and I plan to obliterate them.

“You need to watch for that pocket,” he says. “They leave it open intentionally and then close hard on it.”

I rub my hand over my chin, up to my ear and back, feeling the short stubble scratch against my fingers. He’s right but noted that detail a while ago. Right now, I’m trying to ascertain their weaknesses because when I focus on a team’s threats, it makes it all the harder to see any opportunities for our team.

“What up, players?” Arlo calls, slamming the front door behind him. Noise follows him like a shadow. Everything he does is loud, including his movements. The dude stomps rather than walks. It’s amazing he’s able to run as fast as he does. “What party do you guys want to hit up tonight? Freshmen are on the loose!” He whoops.

“You’re such a perv,” Pax mutters, pausing the TV.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Arlo’s eyebrows dance, and then he laughs. “But, really. Where do you guys want to go? Frat party? There’s also a couple off-campus I was told about. A few in the dorms. Some hot chick gave me her number and said all football players get the VIP treatment.”

At this, I raise my eyebrows. “What kind of treatment?”

His lips slip into a grin that exudes trouble. “If we’re lucky, it means whatever we want.”

Paxton chuckles. “You guys can go, but I think I need to find out where Raegan and Poppy are going.”

“Dude, you can’t escort them to parties.” I shake my head. “That will kill both of your social lives.”

“We saw what happened last week. Plus, my mom will kill me if something happens.”

“Mamma's boys unite,” Arlo says, pounding his chest.

I shake my head. “You can’t intervene. You’ve got to let her be and do what she wants.”

Paxton pulls his chin back. “Like hell I do.”

“For fuck’s sake. She’s eighteen. An adult. You really think she wants you telling her what she can’t do?” I wait for reasoning to join his current thoughts. A part of me realizes this is unlikely. That Pax has a love for his little sister that is far from what most would consider normal. Most guys I know who have sisters barely speak to each other, let alone spend time together. But, I learned they were different after the first time he invited me to go home for dinner with him. I avoided my own family dinners like they were warzones—because they were—and somehow, Pax led me to believe that going to his family’s house for his dad’s famous fried chicken was a good idea. I’m pretty sure it was the hangover I was nursing paired with the flu I’d barely recovered from that had me dehydrated and not thinking clearly, but I went, and it felt like I’d entered another dimension. They all got along, laughing and talking like they genuinely enjoyed one another, and I quickly realized they did. There’s nothing fake or forced about their family, especially Pax and his sisters.

“Raegan is too good for any guy here. I don’t want some asshole to think he’s going to get lucky,” Pax says.

Arlo raises his eyebrows, running a hand over his hair. “Just be careful, man. You’re treading on some thin ice by messing with who she dates and hangs out with.”

“As I said, you guys don’t have to come.” He’s already sending a text, likely to Raegan.

“I have a feeling you’re going to need us,” I say.

He guffaws.

“Where are we going?” Arlo asks.

Paxton stands, releasing a long sigh. “Frat party. Of course.” His jaw is tense, like his fists which are balled at his sides. I consider not going and heading to a local bar or hitting up another guy on the team to see where they’re going tonight. I don’t want drama, and I sure as hell don’t want to babysit, but Paxton has had my back since freshman year, and I’d feel like a complete ass hat if I ditched him now.

“Which house?”

“Alpha dumbasses.”

Shit. I breathe out a curse. Alpha dumbasses is the house Derek Paulson is a part of. It would figure she’d go there.

“Just for clarification, if any shit goes down, I get to punch Paulson.” I slide on my baseball hat and shove my phone into my pocket.

“Paulson’s stupid, but he knows to stay away from her,” Pax says, shaking his head.

“I don’t care if he’s on the other side of the house. I’ll just tell Coach I was trying to protect someone and couldn’t tell who was who.”

Arlo barks out a laugh. “Yeah, because that doesn’t sound like a lie.”

I shrug. I don’t care if it does. I’ve been looking for an excuse to knock his ass out for two months. I’m kind of hoping he does hit on Raegan.

Frat parties aren’t always what you see in the movies. Some houses aren’t about sex and drinking, but Alpha Assholes is.

Girls are on the front lawn wearing bikinis, giggling and wrapping each other in toilet paper. Guys are wandering around in sheets holding large goblets like they’re actually from Roman times.

Douchebags.

“Are you sure they’re here?” I ask. “This doesn’t really scream your sister.” I can’t imagine Raegan getting drunk, let alone thinking these assholes look cool. She talks about books and shit she thinks should be in the news, like girls being abducted from schools in Africa and the rape crisis in India. She’ll discuss politics and religion, and eat entire tacos and go back for seconds and even thirds. This doesn’t seem like her jam.

“She’s here. And alone. She said Poppy is running late.” Pax is already scanning over the crowds, looking for his little sister.

“Hey!” A girl calls, waving to us as she saunters closer, a full drink in her hand. “I know you guys,” she says. “You’re on the football team.”

Pax pats my chest. “He’s a wide receiver. Meet the President.”

The chick giggles and Pax takes the out, saying something to Arlo before he disappears.

The girl introduces herself, but I don’t catch her name. I’m terrible with names, and tonight more than fifty people will introduce themselves to me. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to remember who everyone was.

“Remind me tomorrow when I wake up with blue balls and an empty bed that I like Paxton,” I tell Arlo. “Do you mind?” I reach toward the cup the girl’s holding.

She releases it with a giggle.

I smile, taking a long drink. “Let’s go hunt down little Lawson.”