"Brit left, right?"

My eyes lifted up from my steak, rice, and steamed vegetable dinner plate and met the blue eyes of Evan McGrath, my closest friend on the team, a wide receiver, and the football house's biggest player. Evan put my sexcapades to shame and with one, occasionally two, girls in his bed every night. I wasn't sure how the guy wasn't a walking pile of STDs but, like me, his weekly tests always came up clean.

I comfortably admitted that, with his blonde hair, model-like face, muscular body like most of us, and piercing blue eyes, girls melted into his bullshit charms.

And I'd pay good money to see Harper rip him apart.

The most arrogant guy that I'd come across in college football, which said a lot because I had my own days, was Ethan Burke at UCLA. Ethan was a decent enough quarterback that made our hometown rivalry interesting, but the tool ran his mouth constantly before, during, and after our games to anyone who listened.

I'd thought high school rivalries were bad but college-level were definitely worse and fueled by social media shit-talk. Nationally, Notre Dame was our biggest rival but locally the entire Bruins team and UCLA's student body hated us. Within the ninety-plus number of guys on their team, I found only two of them barely tolerable - Josh Allen, a wide receiver and local guy, and Kieran Meade, tight end - because they avoided the trash-talk between us.

Until now but I deserve every bad word Kieran has to say.

I wasn't stupid, I'd seen pictures of him and Brit splashed all over both their social media pages. Kieran and I texted a lot but because of our busy schedules, we only connected whenever we were back in Santa Cruz. He'd introduced me to Brit when they first started dating and I definitely hadn't pursued her since.

When Brit approached me over the summer, she had assured me, repeatedly, that she and Kieran had broken up. I was on a social media break during camp and she failed to mention that wasn't the case until after we'd slept together.

Red flag number one.

Brit also assured me she'd broken up with Kieran before we became 'official.'

Red flag number two.

I raised one eyebrow at Evan and stated the obvious, "She wasn't here. Why?"

"Murderous blue-balls look in your eyes is gone, bro," Griff, who always butted in with nothing of value to add to a conversation, chirped up from the other end of our dining room table.

"Damn, again?" Zach Campbell, one of my tight ends, grinned and jerked his hand in a motion very similar to what I'd used earlier. "Surprised your left arm isn't bigger than your right at this point."

"Fuck off." I glared at him until his hand stopped.

"Did she leave your ass and go back to Kieran?" Evan shot with a smirk, which only earned him a middle finger. "Dug your own grave there, Jake."

He's not wrong.

After Brit's tear-soaked confession that she hadn't wanted Kieran's feelings hurt, I forced her to call him and she spewed the truth. While internally I hoped she went back to Kieran, without a blink she assured me I was 'her choice.' Kieran had heard enough and blocked my number before I explained the truth.

"Bad move, Harrison," Jackson, our physically smallest player and one of my running backs, chirped up. The biggest mouth on the team flashed a mouth of white teeth at me when he added, "Stick with Brit. One girl drama at a time is best."

"You'd know," I retorted in a sharp tone and narrowed my eyes at Jax.

A senior, Jackson was already engaged to his high school girlfriend Nevaeh, ironically heaven spelled backwards given how much hell that girl gave him. The two had this volatile, argue-first, makeup-second relationship dynamic that exhausted me whenever I witnessed it but they always went back to each other.

And the entire house can hear their make-up sex.

"So you should listen to me." He shoved a forkful of steak into his mouth. "One at a time, minimize the drama."

A few bobbed heads and a muttered, 'he's not wrong' demonstrated the entire table was on Jax's side when they only knew half the real story between me and Brit.

"Fuck no... I need to break up with her," I confessed quietly to the table, which earned me six raised heads. "It's not working."

Per our house rules, Sunday night dinners were closed only to the guys who lived here. While the five empty chairs showed that anyone opted out whenever they wanted but no guests were allowed. Usually we recapped the previous night's games, prepped for the next week's game, even studied for school or just had a chill sesh.

More than enough distractions during the other days of the week.

My eyes circled around and met Griff's raised eyebrows, Evan's smirk, the surprise in London Drake's eyes, Zach's bored expression, Jackson's slight head shake, and then... the wide-open mouth dropped from Adonis Grant, my center.

Adonis' mom must have either been blinded by a mother's love or had a sick sense of humor, because the 6ft4, 240-pound brute would never win any beauty pageants. With his completely shaved head, the guy looked more like a prison inmate than a football player, but he'd earned every battle scar on his face and neck, and the tattoo he'd gotten after every football milestone he'd achieved were proudly displayed by how his giant arms were both sleeved.

Like almost every time my center spoke, his unexpectedly soft voice chided, "What? I liked that one."

"Then you date her, Grant." I snorted and sat back in my seat. Since we met our freshman year, after our initial introduction, I'd never called him by his first name but sure appreciated the way his ass worked hard and blocked for me during games.

"She was a nice girl," he said more to his second filled plate than me.

"Nah, she's using you," London shot at me from across the table with an edge of warning in his voice. "But please, record the breakup and post it online in retaliation."

As our kicker, London got a lot of unwelcomed pressure during our tight games. Despite how the rest of us played for almost sixty-minutes, if he missed a field goal then he single-handedly cost us the entire game or was the team's triumphant hero according to fan reactions. Either way, the pressure made him incredibly introverted and we all knew what his sentiments were about Brit's intimate-USC social media pictures and videos splashed everywhere.

"I'm not that big of an asshole," I started but again the entire table snapped their heads at me. "What?"

After a few moments where twelve eyes blinked at me, Zach broke the silence, "Seriously, Bro? You're the king of disappointment."

"I am not," I groaned and jerked a thumb at Evan. "He is."

"I don't have entire sites dedicated towards jaded rejects slamming me and wishing me dead," Evan chuckled and rested his elbows on the table.

"One site," I reminded him with a raised index finger. "That was because I didn't sleep with her, if you remember."

If I needed any reason that curbed my string of one-nighters, then it was an 'anonymous' website dedicated to girls bitching about me.

None of them had any complaints when I railed into them though.

In his near-manic obsession with public opinion, London had found the site, where the same story repeated over and over until I'd gotten the message.

jessa.stover: OMG! Yes I met him at a party. Made me feel like I was special then tossed me out like trash the next morning.

annieUSC: Me too! Such a pig. I hate myself for falling for his BS.

Etcetera.

If the website wasn't enough dinner table humor, the way the guys' printed out some of the sayings in giant letters and taped them onto my bedroom door as a gag nailed the point home. Thankfully, London used his comp sci major and shut it down for me.

"So the revolving door's open again?" London brown eyes narrowed at me.

I couldn't blame his reaction since his bedroom was next to mine and we shared a bathroom, which he was unusually sterile-clean about but better than the alternative. He only needed one party where a girl had gotten sick in his bed before he insisted that our bathroom, along with our bedrooms, all stayed locked during house parties and I whole-heartedly agreed.

"Not if I can help it," I muttered quietly then took a huge sip of water before what I meant with those words registered. Just as I thought, a few heads shook and Evan flashed me a thumbs up. "This one's a challenge though."

"Good." Evan sat back, cupped his hands behind his blonde-haired head, and gave me a wide-ass grin.

Fucking idiots.

After dinner, I went through my normal night time routine, and sighed once I slid under my bed covers. My thoughts drifted aimlessly, from what the gentlest way I broke up with Brit was to how I convinced Harper that...

That what?

'Don't hate me Harper but exclusively sleep with me please' is dead on arrival.

I squeezed my eyes closed tightly until my eyelids tingled, took in a deep breath, then sighed loudly. My eyes adjusted to the darkness in my room as I stared up to my bedroom ceiling like the answer was up there. In addition to how Harper hadn't answered my last text, she was also crystal clear in exactly how she felt about me.

Wouldn't be the first time I've been played by her either.

Again, I completely deserved it.

Harper and I's relationship was borderline toxic at times. I'd made the second biggest mistake of my life when I'd told her that our first time together was awful, which was my fault, and that it meant nothing to me, which was a complete and total lie. Overcome with guilt, I lashed out and hurt the one person who could've gotten me through Ellie's assault.

While I never apologized, Harper obviously never forgot because three years later, she threw that same line back at me. Practically grounded by my dad, I spent two hours the night Ellie went to Logan's Homecoming Dance. After we were both newly single and I acknowledged she at least deserved a genuine apology from me, I'd borderline harassed Harper all week to go out with me. She flat out refused, so I hadn't apologized yet.

My knuckles banged angrily against the gigantic waste of time Dad had forced me to stay home and worked on. "Entire Saturday night wasted, again."

I knew as soon as he'd brought this piece of scrap heap home that it was punishment to keep me here too. Sadly, by my fourth year in college I still hadn't finished the car but was close enough that I'd donated it to Santa Cruz High's auto shop class and happily wiped my hands clean while they finished it, sold it, and used the money for future projects.

My senior year of high school though, that junker was punishment that in hindsight I deserved for the loose ways I was with drinking and girls. Not even decent grades and an undefeated football season were enough and Dad cracked down on me.

Shit, he even made me promise no girls other than Harper in the house.

Didn't say anything about the garage though.

The thought still tugged my mouth into a smile because I still was the best of rule benders.

A dose of reality hit me when my favorite sarcastic, feminine voice jolted my attention and I smacked my head on the hood.

"Your parents went out, but told me you were fucking around in here."

"Oww," I mumbled and rubbed the spot on my skull that stung from the impact.

"You're fine, asshole." There was only one girl who teased me like that and her torments already stirred my usual reactions inside me. "Your fat head's hard enough."

"Thought you said earlier that my ass was fat." An uncontrollable grin split my face when I stood up and wiped the grease off my hands with a rag. "Despite your obsession with my head."

"Unlike us, mirrors don't lie." Harper's usual defensive stance, one hand on her jutted out hip, grabbed my attention from just inside the door into the house. "Fortunately for you, they don't laugh either."

More than my eyes appreciated how her tight clothes displayed every curve of her banging body but, of all things, she held a roll of duct tape in her other hand. While insulting as usual, her words this time struck deeper than usual.

Low blow, even for Harper.

Instead of unpacking her shade, my eyes tracked from the tape up to her eyes and shamelessly drank in everything in between. "What are you doing here?"

"We had a date, right?" One blonde eyebrow arched at me and her clear blue eyes sparkled so mischievously that simple look rushed all the blood in my body straight south.

"As you told me all week," I reminded her in a voice that came out more bitter than I wanted and tossed the rag onto the workbench table. "You don't do dates."

Ever since Chloe dumped me, again deservedly since I'd groaned Harper's name during a blowjob, and I'd seen Harper on Sunday, I'd uncharacteristically bugged her to go out with me. Saying her reaction annoyed me was an understatement.

I'm Jake Harrison, star quarterback and the most popular guy at school.

When it comes to girls, I don't beg. I accept.

"What an idiot," I groaned at my former self and scrubbed my hands over my face.

In a moment of weakness, I'd attempted to be a better - or at least more honest - person. So, a month into our relationship, I came clean to Chloe on everything Harper-related. I dug my own grave since Chloe never trusted me again, especially after I shared what happened before school started this year.

Again, it's never good to fess up the rap sheet.

Harper's previous share of guys hadn't bothered me, but the soft and tender way she looked at her boyfriend Ryan flared up ugly feelings in me like nothing else. If she hadn't broken up with him, then I would've already given him at least a black eye and busted lip because she hadn't looked at someone else like that since... well, me.

Right after I fucked everything up there. No doubt I deserve every one of her insults.

Despite their subject content, Harper's insults and fiery challenges were a massive turn on. Every time the word 'dick' left her mouth, mine practically twitched in reaction. But her rare vulnerability, how she'd cried in my arms had tugged at and cracked open something inside me.

Unfortunately my stupid eighteen year-old self, not unlike my probably just as stupid twenty-two year old self, went straight for the sexual benefits. Harper obviously had other ideas, since she slammed my ego relentlessly with every breath since then. She insulted me every day, with words that were so specific, it was like she tried a little too hard. As always, her body language screamed differently.

"Because you're anything but subtle about it." Her eyes flashed a shade darker, then she gestured with air quotes and grumbled in a low voice that mocked my earlier words from the parking lot at school, "I need to talk to you about... something."

"Subtle is not my game," I threatened as my grin widened. I'd completely forgotten Ellie stood right there in the school parking lot with us. "You're lucky I didn't kiss you and blow your whole 'I have higher dating standards and rules' reputation."

"And you're lucky I didn't junk punch you until your balls ascended," was her automatic response. "Since when do you care about my reputation? Or rules?"

I care enough to know that you break every one you make.

"More than you know." I shook my head at the ridiculous shit Camille blackmailed me with after I cheated on her.

"Oh please." Harper scoffed. "Not even one week after Chloe came to her senses, you're already banging some random fangirl."

"Jealousy looks good on you..." The flash in her eyes definitely attracted me towards her. Like she pulled me in with an invisible magnet, my feet dragged me closer until I stood inches from her. Since no part of me trusted her with duct tape, I removed that from her hand and tossed it on the workbench.

My eyes never left hers when I assured her of the truth, "...But I haven't slept with anyone since you."

I still perfectly saw Harper's face years later, her eyes widened and lips parted at my words. I fully understood her reaction, since I probably wouldn't have believed me either, but it was true. My dick had been with only my hand since I'd cheated on Camille with Harper three months prior.

And feels too fucking familiar with Brit.

During the rare occurrence of Harper's silent shock, I leaned over and skimmed my nose up the side of her neck. "Know what else looks good on you? Me."

"Your lines always were completely shit," was her breathy response. My eyes appreciated not only the view down her low cut shirt but also how the swell of her breasts heaved with her elevated breathing from our close proximity. "What's next? Roses are red, violets are blue?"

"If that's what you want to hear." I smirked into her skin, both at the reference to our past and how her pulse buzzed.

She remained vocally stubborn as always. "You're not charming your way into my pants like sloppy seconds."

I pressed my lips into the soft skin of her neck, then gently nibbled on her at my leisure. She did nothing to suppress her reaction, only moaned into my ear and threaded one of her hand's fingers into my hair.

I took further advantage of the open exposure from her lifted arm and palmed her breast in one hand. My lips smirked into her skin when her back arched in reaction to how my fingers kneaded her roughly.

"So, if you don't want me to get in your pants, then why are you really here?" I reminded her that she hadn't truthfully answered my earlier question.

My hand traveled down over her ribs and rested on the side of her hips, where her shirt had ridden up and flashed a sliver of skin. My fingers trailed along the edge of that exposure, which rewarded me with a quiet groan in my ear.

Her reminder about doing Ellie's hair before her boyfriend's Homecoming doused me like a cold shower. "Don't go there," I warned her and pulled back with a clenched jaw.

"He's not as bad as you think." Harper's arms crossed over her chest and her eyes burned up at me from under her lashes. "I think they caught feelings for each other."

"She deserves better," I mumbled to myself as my hand raked through my hair, then scrubbed over the back of my neck.

Back then, just the thought of Ellie being taken advantage of burned in my chest and my fists squeezed tightly shut. After a moment of silence and knowing look from Harper, my sarcasm fixated on one word and bitterly lashed out at her, "Feelings is a word I never thought you'd say, Reynolds."

"Ouch," was the emotionless response. "If that was from anyone else, then I might feel offended."

"Harper -" I warned her. After more usual Harper teasing, I grumbled "I don't have the time or patience for fucking games," and turned away from her. Her fingers enclosed around my wrist and by the time my head turned back, her lips were close to my ear.

"I know why Chloe really broke up with you."

My eyes widened at her words, and her breath raised the hairs on the side of my neck around my ear. My throat dried, which I unsuccessfully swallowed against. "How -"

"Most girls would find that quite offensive, Jacob." Her lips traveled over my skin like a whisper that tingled from their contact point all the way down into my balls. Her next words were the end of me.

"Lucky for you, I'm not like most girls."

I tilted my chin in her direction, stared down into those eyes that flooded all kinds of urges through me, and blurted out the truth, "You aren't like any girl." My fists now completely relaxed, I extended one hand around her. After I intentionally brushed it against her right breast, my fingers found the door handle and flipped the lock.

"Which is why I'm going to fuck your brains out."

At the memory of Harper and I together, all the details rushed back into my mind and flooded urges through me again. My cock swelled the more I remembered the way the blue in her light irises stood out as her pupils pooled black, how her smaller frame caged perfectly between my arms and, at her height, the apex between her thighs aligned perfectly with my cock.

My lips remembered how hers tasted, sweet from her favorite red candy, her damn vanilla-scented perfume, probably still fogged my brain if I smelled it today. I palmed my hand into my chest, where she'd shoved me down onto that shit car, pinned me in place, and kissed me wildly, hungrily, and shamelessly.

I lowered my hand to my tented bedsheets and groaned when I ran my fingers over my second hard-on today over Harper. My eyes slid closed right when my fist squeezed tight over my shaft, stroked down once in a hard hand jerk, and settled myself back against my bed pillows as I milked out a few beads of precum. The warm fluid sent my mind back to when my fingers slipped up inside Harper and she shamelessly fucked them, took what she wanted, and gave me the best fucking view as she did. Her loud moans echoed in the back of my mind as I tugged up and down the uncontrollable affect this girl had on me.

"Fuck, Harper," I groaned out bucked my hips in rhythm against my hand.

My body flamed warmed until I broke out into a slight sweat but I panted and stroked myself through the rest of the memory. The imprinted view of her ass, hinged over the car and up in the air for my taking, the way she took my cock in, and pushed back until my balls tapped into her ass, grinded against me thrust for thrust, edged her, then teased her back hole.

I wasn't usually up for anal play, giving or receiving, but the added efforts pushed Harper's orgasms higher and I happily obliged. Initially, she hissed when I teased the same finger around her small puckered hole, then gently slid inside and stretched her with my finger. I stopped when less than an inch inside, then thrust my cock deep inside her. While I fucked her deep and hard in the vagina, I timed my thrusts with soft, tender, and shallow strokes with my finger tip. Small beads of perspiration formed on my forehead as I worked her in and out. Like every time with Harper, each stroke coiled a satisfying sense of hot, tense pleasure through me.

"Fucking shit," I grunted out her response at the time. The friction I stroked, the tension of my tight grip, and the heat that flamed in my gut warned me I was close. With one last downward yank, my cock pulsed internally then released again all over my stomach.

With raspy breaths and a heartbeat that thumped wildly in my chest, I squeezed out the last few drops and flopped my head back. "This is so fucked up."

No sooner had I'd gotten dressed and turned from the trash can I'd tossed the condom into, Harper stood upright, inches from me and fully clothed. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her short, sharp pants matched mine, but the rest of her looked completely relaxed. She took one tentative step, then flashed a smirk that challenged me for round two.

Within a blink, her retaliation attempts were crystal clear with one hardened expression. Her lips curled into a cocky smirk, and when she finally spoke, her voice was cold and expressionless. My subsequent cocky teasing did me no help and the cold, harsh reality of Harper's payback sobered inside me when she shoved my shoulder roughly, then brushed past me back to the door.

She waited three years for that moment.

I cupped my lower hand around my balls, warmed and relaxed between my thighs, and palmed my other hand right over the tightness that coiled in the middle of my chest. That night, I'd practically begged her for more and deserved nothing but the payback she'd intended.

"As you said." Harper's ice cold eyes reappeared in my mind. "I don't do feelings."

"Then do something else with me." I reached out and stroked one of her cheeks with the back of my knuckles. The uncomfortable feeling knotted tighter in my chest while her eyes studied mine. "Anything."

In a moment that felt like it moved in slow motion, her mouth pulled into a wistful, almost tentative smile that softened her entire expression.

She really is beautiful. And I've been nothing but an ass to her.

Within a blink, her full, slightly swollen lips tugged into a firm line and her gaze hardened again. When she finally spoke, her emotion-soaked voice and particular, deliberate choice of words chilled my spine.

"Besides, we both know it was shit and didn't mean anything."

I stepped back in defeat at those words, which ripped open the guilt in my chest that still remained today. When she repeated those word for word to me, she hurt me more than if she'd physically struck me. As I nursed my wounded ego, typical Harper responded with a dirty look, hasty exit, and door slammed in my face.

Like an idiot, I'd vowed that I wasn't done with Harper and, like an even bigger idiot, the same resolve still existed in me today. The moment a spark of doubt flickered in me, I snuffed it out quickly because I knew even a chance with Harper was worth more than weeks of bullshit from my soon-to-be ex- girlfriend Brit.