Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (3 page)

Chapter 5

Britt

I blink at my computer screen. Shoot, I lost my train of
thought again. I wanted to finish this paper for my advanced Spanish class
before I went to sleep, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I took AP
Spanish in high school so I was able to place out of the basic courses, and I’m
afraid the coursework is really going to pick up soon, so I want to get a head
start.

I glance at the clock. 1:15. Well, no wonder I’m tired. I
was up early this morning and then studying all day. I close my laptop and
place it on the floor just next to my bed, then reach for my cell phone on the
bedside table to make sure it’s on silent. I frown as the screen lights up with
an incoming call. It’s Danielle. She’s never called me before, and we really just
exchanged numbers when we moved in as a formality.

I swipe it to answer, wondering if she’s just butt-dialing
me. “Hello?”

“Is Britt?” I can barely hear her slurred voice over the
thumping music in the background.

I sit up. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay?”

“Drank…much…people…you come.” I only manage to make out
every other word.

“You need help?”

“Mmph,” she grunts in the affirmative. I jump out of bed,
grabbing a pair of athletic shorts from my bureau and slipping them on.
Danielle and I may not be close, but I’m certainly not going to let her pass
out in a ditch somewhere.

“Okay, I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“Football. Football…house,” she finally says, settling on
the word. Oh, brother. Of course that’s where she is. “Bathroom.”

“Stay there. Don’t move,” I tell her, and hang up. I pull on
a bra and an old t-shirt, then slip on my sneakers and I’m out the door.

At least I know where the football frat house is. It’s
impossible to miss, really, since it’s the biggest residence on frat row, and
there are always football players and groupies lolling about on the front
porch, no matter what time of day it is. I hurry over to the main campus at a
quick walk, and soon I’m dodging piles of throw up on the sidewalk and drunken
girls teetering dangerously on their high heels. Ugh, what do people find
appealing about this environment?

I approach the football house and take a deep breath. Into
the lion’s den. I’m certainly never going to tell my dad about the fact that
I’m here. I’m not sure he’d even care about the extenuating circumstances.

I nervously pick at the hem of my shirt as I head up the
walkway. A couple of girls eye me from their perch on the porch railing and I
blush. I look really out of place. I’m dressed more like one of the boys than
these girls.

I refocus my gaze straight ahead and march through the open
front doorway.
Shit, this is an introvert’s worst nightmare.
If I
thought the music was loud outside, in here it’s almost deafening. And it’s so
hot. And there’s so many people. And the lights are so low. I feel my body want
to withdraw into itself, but I force myself to keep going.

I see a guy standing by himself and approach him. “Excuse
me, where’s the restroom?” I yell, so that he can hear me over the music.

“Right this way,” he says, starting to turn.

“No, no, thanks. You can just point me in the right
direction,” I reply. I don’t want to go with him to a second location. He
shrugs, and points to a doorway in the back of the big room. I nod my thanks,
and scurry toward it, skirting around the writhing mass of people that are
dancing to the music.

When I turn into the back hallway, it’s a little quieter,
though there are a few couples spread out between the closed doorways. They’re
all making out, or maybe more. It’s tough to tell in the dim light. Two
doorways down, there’s a closed door that actually has light peeping out from
under it and spilling onto the floor. Hesitantly, I walk up to it and knock.

“Danielle? You in there? It’s Britt,” I call out. I hear
muffled moaning coming from the other side, and then a click as the door
unlocks. I slowly open it, and then rush in as I see Danielle sinking backward
onto the floor and curling up around the toilet. She looks so pale...I kneel
next to her and pick up her head, placing it on my knees so it doesn’t touch
this dirty tile floor.

“Don’t feel good,” she murmurs.

“I know,” I reply. “Everything will be alright.” Inwardly,
though, I’m freaking out. She looks terrible. What am I supposed to do in this
situation? What if she’s really in danger? “Can you stand up?”

“Uh-uh,” she groans.

“What if I get you some water?” She doesn’t reply, and her
eyelids begin to flutter closed. “Wait, don’t go to sleep!”

“Everything okay in here?” a deep voice asks. My head snaps
up, and I freeze as I see a hulking shape in the doorway.

Hunter Phillips is staring down at me.

Chapter 6

Hunter

She kneels on the ground, another girl’s head in her lap. I
stare at her quizzically, feeling like I almost manifested her out of my
imagination.

“You coming?” the cheerleader, I already forget her name,
asks as she appears next to me, tugging plaintively on my t-shirt.

“You go on, I’ll join you later,” I lie. The cheerleader
pouts, but continues on down the hallway and back to the party. I turn back to
the mystery girl and raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“I, um, well, yes,” she stammers, her pale blue eyes wide.
She’s a terrible liar, and she knows it. And what the fuck is she wearing? Did
she just come from working out? And unlike every other person at this party,
she seems to be stone cold sober.

“You sure about that?” I ask, nodding to her passed out
friend.

Her little shoulders slump in defeat. “No. I just...I don’t
know what to do. Should I take her to the hospital, do you think? I think I should,
right? What if she has alcohol poisoning?” she asks, looking up at me
helplessly. I step toward her as I see her lower lip start to tremble.

“Mind if I give something a try?” I ask, shutting the door
behind me. She looks a little alarmed, and actually flinches back, but then
nods. I take a knee next to her, and take her friend’s face in my hand. “What’s
her name?” I ask.

“Danielle,” the girl whispers.

I lean down. “Danielle!” I yell, inches from her face, and
give her head a little shake. Her eyes blink open. I move my hands to under her
armpits and lift her to a sitting position. She flops like a bag of flour.
“Hey! Wake up!” She grunts, but her eyes open, and I can see her struggling to
focus on my face. “Listen, I’m going to help you feel better, okay?” She nods.
“I’m going to need you to stick your fingers down your throat.”

“What?” the mystery girl asks, sounding alarmed.

“Trust me,” I tell her. Danielle groans, seeming reluctant.
“If you don’t stick your fingers down your throat right now, you’re going to
have to go to the hospital and get your stomach pumped, and then I bet your
parents will find out because you’re probably on their insurance. Do you want
that to happen?” She shakes her head no. “Okay then.” I turn her around so that
she’s facing the toilet, and she places one hand on the seat to steady herself.
After a deep breath, she reaches one finger toward her mouth.

“Oh my god,” the mystery girl murmurs, as Danielle begins to
vomit into the toilet. I smile.

“See? Easy.”

“I, um, thank you,” she says, not making eye contact with
me. Strange. I mean, granted, there is a girl puking her guts out right next to
us, but this isn’t how women usually react to me.

“I’m Hunter,” I say.

“I know,” she replies shortly.

“So, what? You a State fan?” I ask, referencing our rivals.

She snorts. “No. That would be...impossible.” I frown.
What
the fuck does that mean?

Danielle leans back from the toilet. “Done,” she mutters.

“Thank goodness,” the girl sighs. “Let’s get you back to the
dorm.” She stands up, then reaches down to try to pull Danielle to her feet. I
stand up, and watch her struggle for a moment.

“I got it,” Danielle argues, but she’s lurching so much that
she almost knocks her friend over.

“Need a hand?” I ask.

“No, I’ve got it from here. Thanks,” the girl says
dismissively. Now that she’s not scared anymore, she’s completely closed off.

“Great,” I reply, but stand there watching them. It’s quite
an amusing show, actually. They’re both so little, but they’re really crashing
around. “Stop,” I finally say, and step forward. I reach down and pull Danielle
up, holding onto the sides of her arms to keep her standing upright.

“Thank you,” the girl grumbles, wiping her forehead. There’s
a curly lock of hair stuck to it, and I have a troubling urge to reach out and
brush it off.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” the girl says, a frown
creasing her perfect skin.

“I assume you also need me to carry her home.”

“You can’t carry her all the—" she begins, but stops as
I bend down and lift Danielle into my arms like a baby.

"I can bench press over four hundred pounds," I
say with a smile, but she just frowns back up at me. "Or would you like to
carry her?" I ask.

"Fine," she grumbles, like she's doing me a favor.
"But I live on freshman campus. All the way in Calhoun," she tells me
warningly. I shrug, Danielle bouncing slightly in my arms.

"I know you?" she asks, peering up at me. I wince
at the smell of her vomit and alcohol scented breath.

"Almost definitely," I reply. "After
you," I say to the girl, nodding toward the door. She hesitates, but then
walks forward and opens up the bathroom door. I follow her back out through the
party. Most people are too wasted to pay attention to anything other than the
person they're currently grinding up against, but a couple of my teammates give
me surprised looks. I ignore them.

On the street, the girl and I walk next to each other in
silence, and I start to question what the hell I'm doing. I glance sidelong at her,
but she's staring straight ahead. This kind of charitable bullshit isn't like
me at all. I could've just called her a fucking cab. Not that Danielle would've
been able to make it up the steps to her room, but still. And this fucking girl
doesn't even seem thankful. She seems...pissed.

"She your roommate?" I finally ask.

"Yeah," the girl replies. Danielle looks up at me
hazily. I doubt she'll remember this in the morning.

"What's your name?"

There's a long silence. "Britt," she finally
replies.

"Britt. You don't look like you were intending to come
out tonight," I observe.

"I wasn't. I was studying, and then I was just about to
go to sleep."

"It's a Saturday night. Your first Saturday night at
college," I point out.

"Shoot, looks like I missed out on all the fun,"
she says, nodding pointedly at her roommate.

I have to smile. "True. But you don't have to get
wasted."

"I know," she replies with a shrug. "It's
just not my thing, I guess."

"What is your thing?"

"Um, I like reading. I'm reading
House of the Spirits
in the original Spanish for the first time," she offers, sounding cheerful
and open for the first time. Then she glances at me. "That's a book
by—"

"Isabel Allende, right? I read it for a class sophomore
year, I think." She looks mildly impressed. "Thought football players
couldn't read, huh?"

"Sure, you read the blitz," she replies jokingly.

"So you
are
a football fan...from something you
said earlier I—"

"No. No, I'm not."

"Okay, weirdo," I say.

"I'm not a weirdo!" she gasps indignantly stopping
in her tracks. She squints up at my face. "Oh, you're trying to tease
me," she says, and keeps walking. "I wouldn't say I'm a
fan
, I
just pick things up here and there," she states.

"Uh-huh," I reply, as thought that clarifies
anything. I see Calhoun dormitory rising up in front of us, and find myself
trying to walk slower.

"So what's your major then?" she asks. Is she
trying to change the subject?

"English Lit," I reply.

"Really?" she asks, sounding shocked.

"Yeah. I mean, I figured it didn't really matter what I
chose, since I wouldn't be making a career out of it anyway. And I like books,
they take my mind off things."

"And you have time? With practices and
everything?"

"Not really, but I do what I can. I never ace my
courses or anything, not that the school cares as long as I stay
eligible." I'm surprised to hear a hint of bitterness creep into my voice.

"That's a shame," she says, shaking her head as we
make our way through the front door of the dorm and into the elevator. "I
mean, it sounds like if you had more time, you'd be able to—forget it,"
she says, suddenly pressing her lips together. The elevator doors open, and I
follow her down her hallway in silence, and wait as she unlocks her door.
"Can you put her on her bed?" she asks, nodding to the one beneath
all the Vanover paraphernalia. I smile as I recognize a photo of myself on a
calendar.

I walk over and gently lay Danielle on top of her covers.
Britt walks to the foot of the bed, and gently removes her heels.

"You think she'll be okay?" she asks quietly.

"She'll be fine," I assure her.

"Well, thanks then," she says formally, and stands
there looking at me.

Chapter 7

Britt

Why isn't he leaving? He should leave now. Not that anything
about tonight has gone as I expected it to. He certainly hasn't turned out the
way I expected him to.

He turns and wanders over to my side of the room. "So
what's your major?" he asks quietly, sitting on the edge of my desk. I
feel a nervous fluttering in my stomach. Why does he even care? My goodness, he
is handsome up close. No, no. I can't be having those kinds of thoughts. I've
already been way too friendly, far nicer than I intended to be. Time to shut it
down.

"It's getting late," I say.

"I'll say," he agrees with a smile.

"You know what I meant," I retort pointedly.

"I did," he agrees, standing up. He towers over
me, a solid brick of muscle. "You know, I think this might be the longest
conversation I've had with a woman in years."

I blanch. "That's...horrible."

To my surprise, he laughs. "You're right, it is,"
he acknowledges, shaking his head at himself. "You're a very intriguing
woman," he says, walking up to me. I have to tilt my head way back to look
up at him, he's so tall. I swallow at the hungry look in his eyes, and feel my
skin start to ripple with heat.

"I'm sure there are lots of intriguing girls back at
the party," I whisper.

"None like you," he murmurs. I feel his arms
gently wrap around my waist. I begin to tremble...from fear, pleasure, I don't
know. My emotions are running so high that I can't tell.

"Hunter, I—"

But his head is bending down toward me, his dark, unreadable
eyes holding me in place until his lips softly touch mine. I feel a surge of
heat rush from the bottom of my feet to my mouth. It's such a strong sensation
that it almost carries me off my feet, but here is Hunter Phillips, standing in
front of me and holding me up.

He caresses my lips open with his, and I feel his tongue
slide gently against mine. I raise my hands and let them rest against his
chest. His skin feels hot against my palms, and I can feel his heart beating.
His hand slides from my waist and down my ass, and he presses his crotch into
me. Something hard is pushing into my waist... my brain goes fuzzy for a minute
as I try to process what it could be.

I step back with a gasp. "You have to leave."

He frowns. "What? Seriously?"

"Yes. That was a very bad idea. Very bad."

"Felt pretty good to me. And I think it did to you,
too," he says, a little smirk reaching his lips.

I shake my head, even though I couldn't agree with him more.
"No. Sorry."

"Liar. When can I see you again, then?"

"You're not listening. This, we, or whatever, it's a
non-starter," I stride decisively toward my door and open it. "Thank
you for helping me with my roommate."

He stares at me, opens his mouth as though he's about to
argue with me, then shuts it again. With a frown, he stalks toward the door,
then disappears as he turns down the hallway. I quickly shut the door, and lock
it.

In a daze, I walk toward my bed, kicking off my sneakers as
I go. I hear Danielle snoring softly a few feet away as I slide under my sheets
and pull them up to my neck.

Hunter Phillips just kissed me. Holy crap.

The guy that my father most specifically warned me against.
Well, it doesn't matter now, anyway. I kicked him out of my room, and we won't
see each other again. Whatever craziness happened tonight, whatever strange
impulse inspired him to kiss me...it's over. In the past.

I shut my eyes, but his face is burned on the inside of my
eyelids. Not just his face, that body, too. I mean, I've seen plenty of
pictures, and I watch my dad's games to support him, but Hunter Phillips is
something else in person. It's not just how handsome he is, and how massive and
sculpted his body is. There's something else…

He's magnetic.

I can't help it. My hand drifts southward, under my shorts
and panties. I'm so turned on, my underwear is practically soaking. I begin to
touch myself, imagining what might have happened had Hunter Phillips stayed in
my room. His shirt coming off, being able to feel my skin naked against his,
and that bulge that I felt on my stomach sliding down and then thrusting inside
me over and over again…