“Some are, for sure. But others are into you. And I can most definitely tell which are which. Come on, Chelsea. Look around for a minute and pick one you like, and I’ll go over there and play matchmaker for you.”
I gasp. “Oh my God, Daisy. Absolutely not.”
She laughs. “Are you sure?”
“If I promise to try to ‘live a little’ when we get back to school, will you drop this? Right now, we need to be laser-focused on advancing today and taking home the trophy tomorrow.”
Daisy huffs out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
We both return to our computers, and for a quiet, blessed moment, I think Daisy’s finally moved on.
“It tracks that they’re Cornhuskers,” she says, out of the blue. “Since they all look so damned corn-fed. Oooh, look at that stupidly hot one that just came in!Yummy.”
Football players are a dime a dozen to me, no matter what they look like. But I can’t deny I’m curious what my new friend’s idea of “stupidly hot” might be, especially if she’s planning to play matchmaker for me when we get back to school; so I take a quick peek against my better judgment. And that’s when I see the most stupidly hot, gorgeous body I’ve ever seen. He’s got his head turned when I look over there, as he talks animatedly to one of his teammates, but even so, I can tell that he’s extremely tall and muscular, with dark, thick hair andNEBRASKAemblazoned across his broad, impressive chest.
“Yep. He’s pretty hot,” I concede, returning to my computer.
“You didn’t wait for him to turn his head. His face is gorgeous.”
But she’s already lost me. After seeing that boy’s insane body, I’m already searching the internet for Nebraska’s rosterso I can confirm whether he’s a linebacker or a tight end. With a body like that, he’s one or the other, for sure, and I’m dying to find out which.
Before I get to the roster, I peek at the Cornhuskers’ schedule and quickly confirm they’re playing the Hoosiers today. “I was right,” I murmur. “Indiana is playing—”
“He’s looking over here!” Daisy blurts. “At you!”
“Who?”
“The crazy-hot one! He’s looking right at you!”
“Liar.”
Certain she’s just teasing me, I look up and instantly lock eyes with the hottie in the buffet line. Without missing a beat, he shoots me a wide, dimpled smile when our gazes meet. One that sends heat flashing into my cheeks and makes me look down.
“He’s so scorching hot, he physically sears my corneas,” Daisy whispers.
He’d sear mine, too, if only he didn’t so strongly resemble a certain enemy of my people. The devil incarnate.Roman Maguire.The former Michigan quarterback every Ohio State loyalist hates with the passion of a thousand suns, thanks to the way he decimated my father’s team in two consecutive seasons several years ago on his way to back-to-back national championships and the Heisman Trophy.
Feeling deeply flustered, I quickly click into the Cornhuskers’ roster to find him. When I do, I discover the dimpled Roman Maguire doppelganger in the buffet line doesn’t coincidentally look like the Prince of Darkness.He’s the devil’s kin. Roman’s younger brother, Luca Maguire. Number Ninety-Five. A guy who plays my all-time favorite position. Outside linebacker. Even worse, he’s an edge rusher.
Shoot.
With my heart rate increasing, I read the short bio nextto Luca Maguire’s name. He is a freshman like me, but he’s a full year older at nineteen. Surely his parents started him in kindergarten on the later side to give him a leg up in sports throughout his school years. I’m not surprised, given Luca’s pedigree. My parents did the same with my two older brothers, and it worked out spectacularly well, considering they’re both linebackers in the NFL now.
“Good morning, ladies,” a smooth male voice says.
Holy shit.
I jerk my gaze up from the dimpled, smiling face of Luca Maguire on my laptop and discover the same dimpled, smiling face staring down at me from mere feet away.
“Good morning to you!” Daisy replies brightly as I try not to choke on my own tongue. Can Luca see his grinning photo on my computer screen? Given our positioning, that shouldn’t be possible, but based on the cocky grin he’s shooting me, one that’s making me feel like this boy knows all my secrets, I’m irrationally worried there’s some kind of reflection behind me. A window or mirror that’s giving me away.
Barely able to breathe, I slam my laptop shut and glance behind me, and thankfully there’s nothing there but a beige wall.
As I turn back around, Luca asks, “Can I take this?” He motions to the empty chair at our small table, and embarrassment washes over me to find out he didn’t come over here to flirt with Daisy and me, like I thought, but only to drag an empty chair to a table with his friends.
“It’s all yours,” Daisy chirps, batting her eyelashes.
