Chapter 4

chapter four

Grant

I realized one of two things pretty fucking quickly with this elaborate plan of Davis's.

One was that I should not have let him be in charge of what actually went on the flyer since he idiotically put my cell phone number on the flyer that we're putting up around the entire campus.

And two… I will never under any circumstance let him talk me into anything ever again.

"Will you stop freaking out? Shit, man, you're making me nervous. And do you know how hard it is to make me nervous?" he says, taping another bright blue flyer to a light pole in the common area. "It's gonna work. Chilllllll ."

Is it though?

Because as of right now, I am not convinced that it will. What I am convinced of, though, is that this is the worst idea I've ever had. My phone chimes in my pocket for the hundredth time in the last hour, which cements that feeling.

I narrow my eyes at him, shaking my head. "I'm going to kill you. With my bare hands."

"Okay, fine, maybe we shouldn't have put your number on the poster, but what else were we gonna do? We have to find your Cinderella, which means you're going to just have to deal with it. Now, quit complaining, take these, and go put them up on that bulletin board." He shoves a stack of papers at me, points to a board across the commons, then walks off in the opposite direction.

Great, now I'm taking directions from the Rookie.

This girl is probably going to think I've lost my mind, and you know what, maybe I have. That's probably why I agreed to this in the first place.

But fuck… I just want to find her, get her sketchbook back to her, and finally meet her after all this time.

I get three signs up before my phone rings in my pocket… again . I pull it out, ready to turn it off, when I see my best friend Reese's name on the screen.

I put it to my ear, answering with a cheery "Well, hello, stranger."

"Dude, we literally just FaceTimed yesterday. So, you wanna tell me why there's flyers posted all over OU social media and up all over campus with your phone number on it that say, ‘ Prince Charming searching for his ArtGirl .' What the hell happened in the last twenty-four hours, man?"

How is he playing in the minors all the way in Washington yet still knows what's happening on OU's campus?

"Rosie heard about it and sent me pictures," he says, answering the question I didn't even need to ask out loud.

Of course she did. His younger sister, Rosie, goes to Juilliard in New York, but most of her high school friends go to OU, which means she's the plug for info.

I sigh, narrowing my gaze at Davis, who's now flirting with a perky cheerleader without a care in the world instead of hanging up the fliers. "It's a… long story."

"Yeah? Good thing I've got time," Reese retorts. "Wait till Lane hears about this, Prince Charming."

I can practically hear his shit-eating grin through the speaker, and I groan. "Fuck off. See, this is why I didn't tell you two."

"The disrespect! I'm your best fucking friend, dick, and just because I graduated and moved across the country does not mean that you don't have to fill me in on your life."

I know he's just giving me shit, but damn it, he's right. Walking over to a nearby bench, I drop down onto the seat. "I know. It's just a new… development. Super fucking new."

"I'm listening…" He trails off, waiting for me to continue.

I quickly fill him in on what happened last year: ArtGirl ghosting me, the crazy-as-fuck twist of fate of me finding her sketchbook, and now me following along with Davis's plan to find her with these stupid fucking flyers.

By the time I'm done, my chest feels slightly lighter. I probably should've told him a long time ago, but part of me was fucked-up about the fact that I had these feelings for her and she ghosted me. And a selfish part wanted to keep whatever it was between us to myself.

"You really wanna find her, huh?" he says when I'm done.

"Yeah, I really fucking do."

"I mean, the fact that you're going along with something Davis has come up with says it all, my man."

"Tell me about it," I laugh as I scan the courtyard looking for him. He's a royal pain in my ass, but I will say… when the kid gets something in his head, he goes all in, puts every fiber of who he is behind it. It's why he's such an asset to the team. I appreciate that, though I'll never tell him because his ego is already too fucking big. "I hope it works. I hope she doesn't see it and run in the opposite direction."

She was so insistent that we never meet before, and in the end, she blew me off. Maybe she just really didn't want to be found. Maybe I came on too strong, or maybe she just wasn't interested in the same way that I was. I mean, all of this could totally blow up in my face. But… it was worth the risk. She told me to leave it to fate… and fate led that sketchbook right to me.

"Nah, dude, women love grand gestures, and this is an epic grand gesture. Probably shouldn't have put your number on there though." Reese laughs, and I nod in agreement.

"Fuck, don't I know it? I was about to turn my phone off until I saw it was you calling. My shit's been blowing up all day, which means determining who's actually ArtGirl and who's not is going to be a bit of a problem." I drop my head into my hands, tugging at the short strands of my hair. "Probably should've thought that part through."

Reese pauses, hesitation hanging in his tone. "I mean, if I've seen it, you know who else has seen it?"

"Hmm?"

"Jeremy."

I stiffen at the mention of my agent. Fuck, I didn't even think about him seeing this. Damnit, I should've at least given him a heads-up. We're so close to signing this sponsorship I hope I didn't inadvertently fuck things up more.

"Shit," I curse before glancing down at the flyers.

"I take it he's still riding your ass?"

I exhale, my fingers tightening around the flyers until they're nearly crumpled. "Yeah, something like that. There's just so much riding on this sponsorship, and I feel like every way I turn, I'm fucking things up. Jeremy thinks this is pivotal in making me more noticeable for the draft, but I'm scared I'm not going to land it, and it'll fuck up my chances."

"Nah, you'll get it because you're going to do whatever it takes. Whatever . You hear me? Look, before you know it, you're going to be headed to the minors. On your way to the majors. You've worked your whole life for this, and you're not going to let it, or this sponsorship, slip through your fingers. You've got this."

I appreciate the pep talk from my best friend more than he knows. Makes it a little easier knowing the phone call I have to make. "Thanks, man. Probably should call him before he has a coronary. Can I call you later?"

"Yep. Keep me posted on your search, Prince Charming ."

I roll my eyes, my laugh gruff. "Yeah, yeah. Later."

I hang up and peer down at the screen before opening my messages. There's got to be at least a hundred texts in here, most of them claiming to be ArtGirl. There are pictures of random people, and hell, there are even a few nudes in here, which I know are not her.

She's not like that.

But the fucked-up part is, even if she did send a photo of herself… I wouldn't even know if it was her because we never exchanged photos. Or names.

I was willing to latch onto anything that I could find her with, and that's why I agreed to this shit in the first place. Because having this sketchbook means I can maybe draw her out but still let her be the one to make the move since the flyers put the ball in her court.

"Alright, I think it's time for a new batch," Davis says as he flops down next to me on the bench.

I turn my phone toward him to show him the screen. His dark eyes widen slightly when I scroll, showing him the number of messages.

"Damn."

"Yeah," I grumble. "How do you suppose we vet all of these girls claiming to be her?"

Silence meets my question until he says, "Easy. Ask her to message you on the forum. Only the real ArtGirl will know where to find you there, right?"

True. Yeah. Jesus, why didn't he think of that in the first place? Then my number wouldn't be floating around campus.

He plucks the phone from my hand. "You go hand the rest of these out, and I'll work my magic."

"Not sure if I trust your magic right now."

"You'll be thanking me later when my genius plan works and you find your girl. Mark my words, Bergeron."

I successfully avoided Jeremy until the following morning when he blew my phone up so many times that I knew if I didn't answer, he'd be showing up at the front door and ripping me a new asshole.

Leaning back against the couch, I sigh as I swipe my finger along the screen and answer.

"Jeremy, what's up?"

His scratchy, deep voice rings through the speaker. " What's up ? You know what's up? You continually making my job harder than it's supposed to be, Bergeron."

Yeah, I knew this was coming, hence the fact that I avoided his phone call as long as possible. I knew he was going to be pissed.

He doesn't wait for me to respond before he goes in because his question was actually rhetorical.

"I'm fucking tired . You know what's at stake here. We've had this same conversation over and over. Not only do I see you posted your damn phone number on a flyer all over the campus looking for a random girl, but there's photos from a frat party the other night with you and Davis Guidry where he appears to be taking his pants off in front of a group of girls."

Goddamnit. Fuck.

I drop my head back against the couch and bite back a groan. That dumbass. Of course photos of me would end up on socials, even though I was trying to keep the situation under control.

"Okay, in my defense, I was trying to keep his pants on ."

Jeremy sighs raggedly, and I can tell he's sick of my shit. Hell, I'm sick of my shit at this point. "You know how you stay out of situations like that? By not going to the damn party in the first place. Grant, this sponsorship could change your life. Not just put you on the map with other potential sponsors but financially too. I know how important it is to you to get drafted and set yourself and your mom up. These companies aren't investing big money into a kid who's partying hard and acting like a horny campus playboy, cycling through a new girl every week."

"I do not fuck around like that…" I trail off in frustration. Just because I go to parties and hang out with females doesn't mean I'm sticking my dick in all of them.

"Doesn't matter whether you do or not because that's how it's perceived. Image is everything, and right now, you need to clean it up, or they're going to pull from this deal."

Fuck no, I can't lose this deal. I've been working so hard to make it happen that I can't let it slip away, not when it's this close.

"Okay, I understand."

Dragging my hand down my face, I blow out an exasperated breath.

"Settle down, Grant. Stop going to parties, stop getting drunk with your guys. Get off social media if you have to. I don't care what you do. But we need your image to be squeaky-clean. So get it together, because if they pull it, there's not gonna be a second chance. I can only do so much."

"Got it."

"Talk soon."

The line disconnects, a short beep sounding in my ear when he's gone, and I drop the phone onto the couch cushion next to me.

I heard him, loud and fucking clear. Even if I'm not actually out there fucking off, social media makes everything look different than it really is. And the team can get a little rowdy.

Honestly… I'm over partying. Lately, it feels like a chore even going to the Kappa house, especially when I'm the sober one trying to keep the guys from doing some dumb shit.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just over college life. I've done it, and it doesn't appeal to me anymore.

What do I want?

I want to find ArtGirl. I want to spend my nights talking to her the way that we used to.

I swipe my phone from the couch and open the forum only to be disappointed yet again that there's no message from her.

Who knows… maybe she'll never see the posters. Or if she does, maybe she'll think it's ridiculous that I put flyers up looking for her and will never reach out.

Who knows… maybe it was all for nothing.

I just really fucking hope it isn't.