2. Ryan

2

Ryan

“ D ude, what was that?” Hartley says obnoxiously at me in the dining hall. I sit there stone-faced with my arms crossed over my chest as he flails his hands around in the air. Why is this guy so dramatic?

“What was what? I was being myself. Would you rather me not?” I answer sarcastically because this is who I am. I don’t really care about anything besides football, myself, and making sure my mom is taken care of. Everything else is a distraction.

“Well, tone it down a little with Violet. She’s fragile, very sensitive, and hard on herself. She will probably analyze this ten times before she gets to her next class and stress about it all night.”

I shrug casually. “She seems like she can hold her own,” I say to get a rise out of Hartley. He’s so easy to work up. He grunts and throws his hands in the air again as he leans so far back that he almost falls out of his chair. Ha.

I like when girls are feisty. The way she didn’t back down did something funny to my chest. Not to mention she’s beautiful. I’m talking drop dead gorgeous. She looks different than most girls on their first day of college. Her hair was thrown up, but there were these two little pieces that framed her face. That pink shirt paired with tight running shorts hugged her curves in the best way, but the part that stopped me dead in my tracks were those icy blue eyes. Her eyes looked surreal. Most girls at Springs U try too hard with heavy makeup, dresses, the whole nine, and they throw themselves at me like I care.

Violet seemed flustered when we locked eyes in class. She couldn’t look away fast enough to get back to that boring lecture. She would have rathered chat it up with Mr. ‘Try Hard’ Professor than skirt out of class the minute we could. When Hartley started waving like a complete idiot in class, I had no idea that the girl he was waving to would stop me cold in the middle of the lecture hall. People don’t have that effect on me, never did. I can take them or leave them, honestly. I don’t like anyone enough to remember their name or what they look like. Girls are girls. They come around, we hook up, they leave, and I never see them again. If I do, I ignore them because they know what they are getting into with me. I don’t stick around anyone long enough to care, and I don’t do strings, but there I was, staring in class like a fool. Hartley told me his roommate was a freshman, his little sister, someone he would die for because, according to him, they have “been through too much together.” I have my own demons and don’t plan to dig up anyone else’s.

Hartley and I met at summer training camp last year. We were both fresh out of high school on full rides. I knew I couldn’t mess this up. I told myself before coming to college that I wasn’t here to make friends, but that fool has a way of creeping into your life and staying. He would not leave me alone. He asked questions about football and asked me to hang out with him constantly. He always forgot his practice gear, so I started packing extra for him. I was overly prepared. He was underprepared. Clearly, he didn’t take college football as seriously as me. One night, after a long and grueling practice, I finally caved and went downtown with him. We both found out that night that none of the downtown bars ID. It didn’t matter to me. I don’t drink in public, but he drank too much and did not stop dancing the entire night. At 2 a.m., I had to bribe him to leave the bar alone with leftover pizza at my apartment. After carrying his dead weight up two flights of stairs, we ate cold pizza, and the rest is history. He hasn’t left my side since. He’s an idiot, but I’m stuck with him. None of it matters. He doesn’t have to worry about me and his roommate. I made it a point to push Violet away when I met her at lunch, and I’ll do it again if I have to. Making a play on my teammate’s little sister isn’t in the cards because a face like hers spells out too much trouble.