I retype the message, but I still can’t bring myself to press send.
“Forget about the recruits,” Reid says, voice slicing through my thoughts. “We need to buckle down and focus on this week’s game. Wisconsin’s looking good. They’re going to make us work for it.”
He’s right. I need to get my head on straight. National titles don’t win themselves. We’re 6-1. This isn’t the time to get distracted. We lose another game and we can kiss our championship run goodbye.
Plus, Coach let slip that there will be NFL scouts in the stands this week.
No pressure.
I stand and lock my phone, dropping it in my pocket. “Who’s up for a run?”
Surely six miles around campus will be enough to pound all thoughts of Quinn from my head.
34
QUINN
Sex has addled my brain.
It’s Monday evening and I haven’t been able to think of anything but orgasms for the last thirty-six hours. It’s becoming a real problem, especially since Call-Me-David caught me daydreaming in Creative Nonfiction this morning. Priya bailed me out, but I didn’t miss the disapproving way he stared at me for the rest of the class.
Which I’m sure will have no effect on the grade for my latest assignment.
Yeah, right.
I sigh and return my attention to the laptop balanced on my knees. The article I’ve just written for The Collegian is ready to submit, but I can’t bring myself to press send. I’d hoped—naively—that writing about my night with Coop would curb my rampant desire, but it seems to have had the opposite effect.
My gaze slides to the nightstand.
There’s no rule that says you can’t masturbate at 8pm on a Monday.
True, but I’m not sure my rabbit vibrator can live up to the reality of sex with Cooper.
Or the fantasies that have since taken up residence in my head.
So. Many. Fantasies.
All of which will go unfulfilled, since our hookup was a onetime deal.
Stupid-freaking-rules.
Heat pools between my legs and I squirm, my backside burrowing into the soft mattress.
So much for satisfying my craving by writing about my night of toe-curling, mind-blowing, life-altering sex.
If anything, it’s amplified my need.
Who knew losing your virginity could leave you in a permanent state of lust?
Only every sexually active person ever.
It would certainly explain Haley and Bryan’s on-again, off-again relationship.
After all, they say makeup sex is the best kind of sex.
Yeah, this train of thought so isn’t helping.
I force my attention back to the article on-screen, my mouse hovering over the submit button.
