2. Chapter 2

I can't believe she's here. I haven't been able to get those emerald-green eyes out of my head for seven months.

I close my eyes and see her smile.

I close my eyes and hear her laugh.

She's like a drug, and I'm an addict who can't get enough.

But now she's my roommate.

What did I do in my past life to deserve this karma?

Not only have I been fighting feelings for an unavailable girl, but she's also my teammate's little sister and my coach's only daughter.

After I carried the few belongings she brought to the empty room in our apartment, we both went our separate ways. The guys are waiting for me in the living room, and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia reruns are playing on the TV. I graciously accept the beer Harris has waiting for me.

"Bro, what the fuck?" He sighs and rests his head on the back of the couch, a cold beer in his hands. "I had no clue the Bret Campbell that applied was a girl, let alone Coach's daughter."

"I think that was her plan this whole time. She's hiding something."

"I texted Grant." Both Harris and I snap our heads in the direction of JP who is sitting on the opposite side of the sectional .

"Why?" I ask, bringing the beer to my lips for a long pull. I savor the cold, hoppy liquid as it slides down my throat.

This beer is much needed. Not only because of the new roommate situation, but practices have been brutal as we gear up for the start of our season. Coach has high expectations since we brought home the hardware last season by winning the national championship. Now that we've tasted success, we're all desperate to bring it home again.

Today was a scorcher in Texas, and I wanted to head to the pool, but the impromptu party prevented me from doing so. Football, partying, and farming are a few of my favorite things, but a pool party after the most brutal practice was not what I was in the mood for.

"He needed to know." JP shrugs. "Grant always worries about his sister, but lately, he's been even more concerned about her. The fact that she dropped out of the University of Arizona, drove solo thirteen hours, and moved in with a group of guys would have any big brother concerned."

I nod, resting my head on the back of the couch, and close my eyes. I know he's right, but a small part of me wants to be the one she turns to. I know it's absolutely ridiculous to be her sounding board, but I want to protect her. It's my job on the field to protect the passing game, and I guess that need to protect has seeped over to her.

There's just something about her that draws me in. The attraction hasn't changed, even though her appearance has completely changed. I noticed all the ink on her perfect olive skin. Her brown hair is now jet black. And damn, don't get me started on her new piercings. I couldn't help but stare at them.

"Did you order the pizza?"

Harris nods his head. "Yeah, should be here in about ten minutes," he says, glancing down at his smartwatch. "I stuck Bret's money in the drawer of the entryway table. She's not buying on her first night here, but I didn't want to start a fight, so I hid the money."

"Smart thinking," I say with a chuckle.

Silence falls over the room as we all turn our attention to the TV as a familiar beat reverberates off the wall separating the living room from Ad— Bret's room. Shit, it's gonna take a minute to get my brain to call her Bret.

Honestly, hearing that her name is Bret makes so much sense. Addy felt too common for her. She's too fucking cool.

A beer cap hits my chest as Harris's chuckle fills the space. I look up and find JP shaking his head at me.

"Dude, you've got it bad," JP says.

"What do you mean?"

"You literally said ‘she's too fucking cool,' like out of the blue," Harris adds.

"Shit, I didn't mean to say that out loud."

There's a knock at the door, and Harris jumps up off the couch and heads down the hall to answer.

"Where the fuck is my sister?" Grant storms into the living room. If this were a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of his ears. His attention whips in my direction, and his eyes narrow. "Did you know about this?"

"Yeah, Campbell, I knew this whole time," I retort sarcastically. His glare has me quickly changing my tune. "No, man, I'm just as blindsided as you are."

Grant runs his finger through his hair, and I can practically feel the turmoil radiating from him. Whatever problems Bret's dealing with is making her brother stress the fuck out.

Another knock on the door has Harris turning back around to answer. Hopefully, it's the pizza this time .

"Did she seem okay?" he asks. I'm not sure what Campbell knows about my friendship with his sister. There honestly isn't much there. A few videos were sent to each other on social media, a liked picture here and there, and the occasional text. He warned me off of her last winter, and I've done my best to honor that. Of course, I felt a connection, but damn, that's my Coach's daughter, who is clearly going through some shit. I need to tread lightly, very lightly.

I'm about to respond when her door swings open. "Is the pizza…" Her words trail off as her eyes widen at seeing her big brother standing outside her door. Since she's entered her room, she's tossed on an oversized hoodie with her high school basketball logo across the chest. Thank God she covered up her tits.

Shock crosses both of their faces as his sister's appearance literally takes Grant aback. "What happened to your hair?"

She scoffs. "Well, hello to you too, brother." Her eyes narrow as she bounces her gaze from JP to Harris, who's setting our pizza order down on the table, and then they land on me. The glare she gives me is glacial. And reminds me way too much of the glare her brother just gave me.

I raise my hands, one still holding my beer. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't say shit. If you want to blame anyone, blame the jackass on the other side."

Her head quirks as she props her hands on her hips. "Oh, so this is how it's going to be, roomie?"

Grant goes to grab Bret's arm, and she freezes. Her back goes ramrod straight as fear covers her face. It's the same reaction she gave me in the parking lot when I questioned who hurt her. At that moment, every guy in this room knew she was hiding something. Someone fucking hurt her. Call it male instinct, but a protectiveness went through each of us .

"Don't," she says, her words soft. "I'm fine, Grant. I just missed the family and wanted to be an Eagle like you."

He pulls her into his arms, and I'm jealous that I'm not wrapping my arms around her. He whispers something in her hair, and she grabs him tighter. He pulls away with a quick peck to the top of her head. "We'll talk about this more."

She gives him a terse nod before he steps away from her. Heaviness weighs on his shoulder as he stares at his sister.

"Wanna stay for some food?" Harris asks, tossing paper plates next to the pizza boxes. It looks like he ordered Cousin Jimmy's, a staple around campus. They're the only place on campus that stays open until four a.m. Their pizza is super greasy, super tasty, and super cheap. When the late-night drunk munchies hit, they're the go-to. Somehow, they even cure hangovers. They also have a helluva deal of an extra-large pizza, ten breadsticks, and two large drinks for ten dollars. You can't freaking beat it.

Grant shakes his head. "Nah, man. You sure you're good, Addy?"

"Yeah, and don't be mad at them," she says. Her green doe eyes sparkle as she looks up at him. "I did everything under Bret Campbell. They had no idea."

"I still don't like it. Why didn't you call me? You could've taken my extra room."

"Some things need to be done on my own."

He eyes her, much like a parent would search their child for any traces of a lie. When he seems satisfied with her answer—at least for the moment—he pulls her in for one last hug. The two are close. I'm jealous of their relationship. I have an older brother and a younger sister. My sister and I are somewhat close, but she's quite a bit younger than I am. And as much as I wished I was closer to my brother, we've never had the chance to be close .

He's four years older than me, and when he was in high school, he was quite the shithead. Trouble always seemed to find him, so I never got much opportunity to grow close to him. Then, after he graduated high school, he enlisted in the Army. My dad would have been proud of him. He would have been more proud if Jett had followed in my dad's footsteps and enlisted in the Air Force, but I guess the Army is the next best thing.

For the past six years, he's been serving overseas. Building a relationship with someone who never wants to come home is hard. It's not like I'm at home in Ohio either, but we aren't even in the same country. The two of us email back and forth, and he tries to catch replays of my games when he has the chance. But it isn't the same.

Maybe once I graduate, he'll be ready to leave the service, and we can both be home together. Dad's dream was always for the two of us to take over the family farm since my younger sister never had any interest in it—at least, she didn't when I lived at home.

"See you guys in the morning," Grant says as he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a card for his sister. "Here's my keycard to get into the practice facility. We have practice from six to nine. You have until ten to talk to Dad, or I'm doing it for you."

Bret takes the card from Grant and nods her head. With that, Grant leaves us alone for our first dinner with our new roommate.

Dinner went smoothly. We watched It's Always Sunny reruns before Bret beat JP in a game of rock, paper, scissors, and the winner got to choose the movie. The three of us all sat on the edge of our seats as we waited—eyes closed, per Bret's request—for the movie she selected to start playing. It turns out that Bret is a big fan of action movies. We all sighed in relief that it wasn't a chick flick.

However, halfway through the movie, I glanced over and found a sleeping Bret. She had curled up in the corner of the sectional and fallen asleep. Her hood was up, her hands folded underneath her head, and her legs curled in the fetal position. It was at that moment I saw a genuinely relaxed Bret. Her walls weren't standing tall. She seemed at peace.

When ten o'clock rolled around, the guys and I were ready to call it a night. We've been waking up at five in the morning to make sure we fuel up before our morning workouts, which meant early bedtimes. Harris nudged Bret awake, and the four of us went our separate ways.

Now it's after two, and I'm staring at my ceiling knowing only a bathroom separates us, not hundreds of miles. I can't get her out of my head. Her pitch-black hair hanging long down her back and her toned-athletic framed body. Those eyes remind me of summer days on the lake in my hometown. The tattoos she now wears have me wondering if she's hiding more under her clothes, which has me begging to explore her body more than I already did. And dear lord, those piercings on her perfect, perky tits.

Rebellion looks good on her.

My body is exhausted, and my eyes are heavy, but my brain won't quiet down to allow sleep to consume me. I've tossed and turned enough times tonight the sheets are no longer tucked underneath the mattress. Rolling over, I tap the screen on my phone to check the time. Deciding a glass of water might help me go back to sleep, I toss the covers from my bed and lazily stumble across the hallway to the kitchen.

With heavy lids, I barely make out a lone figure sitting across from me on the counter with a bowl in her hand in the dimly lit room. Without thought, I stride across the cool linoleum floor and close the gap between us. My hand wraps around her head as I tug her toward me. Our lips meet, and she lets out a small gasp in surprise. My tongue takes the opportunity to plunge inside as cinnamon sugar hits my taste buds. She startles at the contact as her hands find my bare chest, and she pushes me away.

"Shit!" I gasp. "I'm sorry, I thought maybe I dreamed you were here in my apartment."

"Nope," she says, popping the p. "I'm here, Crew."

Running my fingers through my hair, I stare at her. "Yes, you are."

Tipping the bowl toward me, she adds, "I'll buy another box for whoever has the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I had the late-night munchies."

Reaching into the cabinet, I pull down a glass. Holding it against the built-in water dispenser, I glance toward her. "They're mine. Help yourself whenever you want."

Turning, Bret swings her legs out in front of her rather than where her feet had rested on the countertop. That's when I take in what she's wearing in the low glow of the under-the-cabinet lighting. She's in a green tank top and a pair of panties.

Fuck me.

Leaning with my back against the counter, I do my best to avoid looking at her. I know if I give into the temptation that is her, I'll end up staring at her tits as I trail down all of her exposed flesh. Her perfectly toned olive skin.

Shit, I can feel the blood rushing to my cock right now with the brief thought of her body.

"Are you still upset with me?" Her words are low and timid, and I hate that she's shying away .

Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head in her direction. "I'm not mad exactly. But did you think we'd never see each other again?"

"Honestly, I didn't think so. I never come to CTU, and I figured you'd lose interest eventually. You can't honestly say you'd carry on a friendship with someone you never see. Come on, Crew."

"You're right. I guess I was living in a delusional world. I thought we shared a moment at Q's at Christmas. You told me you had a boyfriend, and I respected that, but I felt something between us. Didn't you?"

Her eyes drop down to her lap as she turns away, avoiding eye contact with me. Bringing my glass to my mouth, I chug the water. I empty the contents in seconds before placing the glass into the kitchen sink.

I guess that's my answer.

Turning, I start to storm out of our kitchen, but my name on her lips has my steps faltering. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as Bret quickly erases the space between us. Her hand lands on my arm as she turns me back toward her. Our chests brush, her threadbare tank against my bare chest, as her hands find a home behind my neck.

Before I can react, she's pulling my head down and crashing her lips against mine. I groan at the contact. Her plush, perfectly pink lips are smashed against mine. It's a feeling I've thought about way too many times. As if I hadn't just had her lips against mine.

Her tongue flicks against the seam of my lips, and I grant her the entrance she's begging for. Our tongues brush against each other, and the shock that flows through my body has my dick growing rock hard. I know she can feel it, but I refuse to break the kiss.

I should not be kissing my teammate's sister, hell, my coach's daughter, but my brain refuses to step away from her .

Her hands slide up my neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck as I pull her closer to my body before sliding my hands down her back, over her tight ass, and down her thighs. In one quick motion, I'm hoisting her in the air, and her legs wrap around my waist. My erection presses into her core where I can feel moisture pooling in the thin panties she's wearing.

She grinds against my length, and I struggle with every fiber of my being not to carry her into my bedroom. But instead, I use my brain and halt our movements.

Her face heats as she scurries down my body. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't apologize," I beg.

"I had to kiss you one last time."

Wait, what? Who says this has to be the last time?

She must read the confusion on my face because she's answering the questions I never spoke aloud. "We can't do this, Crew. I need a place to live, and you're my brother's friend. We can't cross this line."

Reaching forward, I skate my thumb down her cheek before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But—"

"No, buts. This can't happen again. I-I-I'm not ready to be in a relationship, and I don't want to complicate things. It's bad enough already."

Blowing a frustrated sigh out of my nose, I lean forward, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Whatever you need, Bret."

And with that, I turn and walk back to my bedroom. Crawling under the covers, I toss and turn some more and will sleep to take me. But it never does.

Instead the images of her in my arms, her tongue down my throat, assault my mind .

She never answered if she felt something for me like I did her. Was it all a game to her? Did she come here over Christmas break and play me? She doesn't seem like that type of person, but that girl I met months ago is no longer the girl on the other side of this wall. Something happened to her because she's changed drastically. I want so badly to believe she feels the connection, the zap of electricity that sparks every time we touch.

Even if she feels the same way as I do, what can I possibly do about it? She's right that she's not only my teammate—and friend's—sister, but she's my coach's daughter.

Am I going to risk losing playing time in my junior year because I want to sleep with my coach's daughter? Hell, I want more than that. I want to date her. But I can't even say that she feels the same way toward me.

Is it worth it? I can't risk having a bad relationship with my coach because he found out I was messing around with his daughter.

Dammit. This isn't how this year was supposed to play out. It was supposed to be simple. Play football and continue getting good grades. I only have two more seasons left until reality comes crashing down on me. Two more years of playing the game that I love before I fly home to Ohio and take over the family business. That's always been the plan.

Even though thoughts of playing in the NFL plague me, especially since I've watched my friends go on to get drafted. Last season, Quinton Boyd took me under his wing, and in the spring, he was drafted into the NFL. It was a dream come true for him. I've never given the NFL much thought. It's never been a dream of mine, as a kid we'd play in the yard like we were professional football players, but that's all it ever was.

After watching Quinton leave CTU for Denver, his parting words have struck a chord deep inside. He told me I had what it takes to make it to the league. That if I keep working hard this season, the scouts are going to notice.

But is that what I want? Do I want to play professionally, or do I want to go back to Ohio and help lower the stress on my mom? If my brother was around, I could talk to him or at least feel him out for what his future plans are. But of course, he's off playing hero to avoid his reality.

And now there's Bret.

So much for easy. It looks like this year just got a whole lot more complicated.