Me: Trust me, the sexiest thing you can wear is confidence.
Padawan: You’re right. I’m probably being extra.
Padawan: Thanks.
I slip the phone in my pocket and turn my attention back to my roommates. “Well, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find someone who appreciates my finer assets.”
The guys snicker and as I’m walking away, someone makes a crack about my finer assets.
I don’t bother replying.
Nope. I just strut into the hall, my assets on full display.
When I enter the living room, I’m greeted by another round of Wildcat cheers.
Waverly fans are nothing if not loyal. They’re as pumped about the winning season as the guys on the team.
I make small talk as I weave through the crowd, but it doesn’t take long to spot Zoe.
Our eyes meet through the crush of bodies and she waves me over to where she’s dancing with a couple of Tri Delts.
What the hell.
She’s a cool chick, and we always have a good time.
“Cooper!” She flashes a bright smile, revealing perfect white teeth. “You found me.”
“You’re kind of hard to miss.” I flick my eyes to the bright red dress she’s wearing. Scratch that. It’s definitely a shirt. It might be belted at the waist, but it’s too short to be anything else. Not that I’m complaining. Zoe’s got great legs.
Quinn’s are better.
They’re also off limits.
Which is what I tell myself every time I think about touching her again.
“Where have you been hiding out?” Zoe asks, a sultry smile curving her full lips. “I haven’t seen you around all semester.”
I take a pull on my beer and rake a hand through my hair. “Coach is keeping us busy. You know how it is.”
“Whatever he’s doing, it’s working,” the brunette to Zoe’s right chimes in. She has a tiny Wildcat painted on each cheek. “You guys killed it today.”
“Thanks. Our new kicker’s a godsend.”
When Reid proposed poaching talent from the women’s soccer team, I thought he’d lost his damn mind. But Carter’s holding her own. On the field and on the team.
“Don’t be so modest.” Zoe squeezes my arm and it takes all my self-control not to laugh. No one has ever accused me of modesty. “You looked good today.”
So good, I’m staring down the Waverly record for receiving yards. As long as Reid and I both stay healthy, I’m practically a lock.
“Oh, I love this song!” Zoe’s eyes brighten as the opening notes ofHot Girl Summerfill the living room. “Dance with me?”
She grabs my hand and drags me toward the center of the room where the sea of bodies is thickest.
Zoe’s a good dancer and I follow her lead as she molds her body to mine. We dance for five songs straight, and I’m parched when the DJ finally mixes it up, dropping a Def Leppard throwback.
Disappointment flashes across her face, but it’s quickly replaced by a smile as she punches a fist in the air and sings along, belting out the lyrics along with everyone else.
I’m not much of a singer, so I take the opportunity to drain my beer as Zoe rocks out next to me, her body moving in time with the swaying crowd.
