2. Maddox

TWO

MADDOX

I jab my elbow back and shove Waller off me.

He shoves me back. "Senior year, bitch!"

I roll my eyes as I shake my head. You'd think our morning weightlifting session would have killed his energy, but nothing calms this fucker down.

The girls' laughter urges him on, so he keeps bouncing around, being a fool.

I'm not sure how this group of sorority chicks found us the second we got on campus, but I shouldn't be surprised. This particular group seems to be everywhere we go.

It's not like I have a problem with them. They've partied at the Football House over the last couple of years, but even though I live there, I don't know them beyond first names.

A feminine hand reaches for my chest, but Waller steps between us, slinging his arm around the girl's shoulders, derailing her attempt to touch me.

I don't like to be pawed at.

I'm no saint. No virgin. Haven't been since my senior year of high school.

And no shame to the guys who still like to cut loose every weekend, but I've had my fill of blurry nights.

I need to stay focused these last two semesters. I got too close to academic probation last year, and I can't get that close again. If I get pulled from the field my senior year, I'll be fucked.

Movement beyond our little crowd catches my attention, and I lift my eyes.

Across the way is a pretty girl with long honey-brown hair and plump bow-shaped lips.

Interest stirs in my ribcage.

I don't recognize her, but she doesn't look like a freshman.

And as I'm taking her in, I realize she's doing the same to me.

Her gaze is locked on my chest.

I'm a big dude. I stand out. I'm used to being looked at. But this? Her notice somehow feels deeper than surface level.

And if I straighten my back and tense my chest muscles, it's just a coincidence.

She's not a part of the current high-pitch crowd. And the plain shirt she's wearing shouldn't be sexy, but the way it stretches tight over her big tits fills me with the urge to cut the distance between us and press my face into the bright white fabric.

I drag my eyes up, noting her soft, round cheeks and the freckles across the bridge of her nose. A breath passes before her eyes lift and land on mine.

Her eyes widen, and I can feel her embarrassment over getting caught looking.

I can't help my humor, or my relief, at being the one who looked up first, so I do the only thing that feels appropriate.

I wink.

Pink hits her cheeks as she drops her gaze and hurries down the path.

My eyes follow her. And I can't help but notice how edible her ass looks in those jeans. The animal inside me begs me to chase her down. Except this tackle would be full of desire, not aggression.

But I don't follow her.

I can't.

I need to focus.

So, as the intriguing stranger rushes through the entrance of the econ building, I turn away.

I have my own class to get to.