I wasn't sure what had crawled up Jake's ass lately but I didn't like it. No, correction, I didn't trust it because he was so... uncharacteristically not Jake.

The normally cool, confident, arrogant guy I'd hated enough that - well, yeah. My point was that normally cocky asshole Jake had become mentally distracted and stressed out, almost to the point where he was unraveled.

And it sure freaked me the fuck out.

Since Jake stayed tight-lipped about whatever the fuck bothered him enough that his eyes filled with panic after we had sex, I was left to draw my own conclusions. And I came up with two, neither of which seemed entirely plausible because my emotional capacity couldn't fit on a grain of sand, but I heaved my best guess.

First, on the surface, Jake could've been stressed about his football season. The better USC performed, the better he played, the more pressure was mounted on his shoulders. I'd known this, as well as how stress relief came along with why he wanted our fuck-only agreement. That was partially why I'd given him the blowjob sendoff, the other part... I wasn't entirely sure but knew I wanted his head cleared because of me. I honestly hadn't expected the retribution but, at the expense he'd started to ruin my BOB-only experiences, fuck, I was glad that he had.

The best part? The way Jake's eyes looked at me while he dipped my new dildo, the one he'd bought me, in and out. Usually Jake squeezed his eyes tightly shut while we fucked until he came, but with the dildo, he gazed down like he memorized every detail of me. The intensity in his dark, heated eyes washed my skin in goosebumps and only magnified the sensations further.

Can't remember the last time I came that hard. I'll need it, to hold me over for a bit.

Him though...

While I felt bad about his elevated stress levels, over and over Jake had not only risen to the different team's challenges on the field this season, but excelled past anyone's expectations. With four games left in the season, he held a career-best passing percentage and was on pace to break his own personal best and also possibly some of USC's quarterback records.

I had zero expectations for Jake when it came to football but even I couldn't drown out the 'analysis' sports announcers ran on him during the San Jose State game's preview, actual game, and postgame coverage I saw leading up to their three road game stretch.

As quarterback, Jake was the first and most scrutinized USC player. Every play, successful or not, were dissected and scrutinized to the point I understood why he shut off his phone the day before a game day. Jake had always handled the pressure and attention football games brought, and at least during interviews, his shoulders seemed relaxed, his deep voice even-toned, and eyes bright with pregame excitement.

Since I assumed Jake was asked over and over about microcosm-level football details, I never asked him myself if that was what bothered him. Drawing attention to a stressor never lessoned its effect, so instead I held up my end of our bargain. The most pathetic part was how happily I opened my legs, wrapped them around him, scissored them between his, knelt down, or put them into whatever the fuck position he needed while he fucked out his frustrations.

In what I considered personal growth, I even cuddled with the fucker. It wasn't any source of pleasure for me personally but if Jake's need for football-related stress relief included his meaty, sweaty arms wrapped around me, then I stayed. Our post-sex pillow talk was fortunately limited and I knew with each puppy-dog eyed look he gave me when I left that he wanted me to stay overnight but I just... couldn't.

Thankfully, he never asked but those looks he gave me bothered me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself. Each hurried exit became harder than the previous one, as some weird pull that I stayed tugged me back harder each time. With each minute longer that I melted into his embrace, the more I ignored the warning signs of attachment that fired off in my brain.

I never mentally asked myself if I wanted to stay because even acknowledgment of the question surged fear from the back of my mind, fueled by memories of how I'd been burned emotionally in the past and by Jake himself. My defensive walls had eroded slowly, until the fucker still had snuck inside and parked his huge ass into my conscience.

Fuck, this feels pathetic and needy.

My actions probably looked heartless but I cared for Jake, deeper than I probably should have given our messy past and casual circumstances. Even when a bit more distanced, the fucker crept into my mind, especially whenever the UCLA-USC rivalry bullshit rose into existence.

For that reason, the weeks Jake focused on his away games, I took longer walks around campus on weekends and after my class ended at noon. Li understood when I bailed on our lunch plans and met with her BioPhys study groups. I never walked anywhere with a purpose, just meandered around like a tourist. My eyes stayed largely glazed over and I just went wherever my feet took me.

"What the fuck is that?" I glanced up at the larger than normal sidewalk crowd on my way back from class on Wednesday. Not only were the sidewalks jammed three students deep, they were stopped at a standstill in a large crowd that ringed around the Inverted Fountain.

Located outside Franz Hall, the circular fountain reminded me of a large, cement and brick decorated donut, where the water poured inward into the hole. Other people called it a toilet, which I also saw... except now it looked more like a very well-orchestrated prank.

"Shit, not again," a female voice grumbled out behind me and grabbed my attention.

"Again?" I echoed and turned my chin to my shoulder.

A girl with dark brown hair in a messy bun and her face twisted in annoyance groaned down at her phone. "Yep, they also got the Shapiro Fountain and one in the sculpture garden."

Even the sculpture gardens? Damn.

"They who?" I blurted out because, as far as I was concerned, this hold up kept me from a much-needed rice bowl with kimchi and pork ribs lunch from entering my mouth.

"USC," she spat out bitterly. "They colored the fountains... Again."

"Hmm." By the time I passed the Inverted Fountain, I saw that its inward-flowing water was, in fact, a maroon, Kool Aid-inspired color. The pool looked like a crime scene being continually washed away.

While I snapped a picture, understandably the students around me stood tight-fisted, shook their heads, and snapped their own pictures with their mouths wrenched downward. A collective thirst for revenge spread in the muttered conversations. I only had one connection to USC but texted him because of the slight stink of a possibly football-related prank also hung in the air.

me: Is this your handiwork?
me: [ image attached ]

dickhead: nope. Fucking hilarious though.

"Guess he's innocent, for once," I muttered and stepped my way out of the spectator crowd. By the time I'd steered myself back on path towards Reiber, my phone buzzed again with a cheesy message that was for-sure Jake's doing.

dickhead: bring your ass over here and I'll show you my handiwork.

I left his ass on read status, tucked my phone, and continued back to my dorm room. While I'd meant to drop my backpack-stuffed course materials off at my desk, the quiet groan from Li's grabbed my attention and I glanced over at her.

Her small frame knelt, half bent over from her lofted bed's close proximity to the ceiling, as she hung up another poster of Kieran. In this one, number eighteen looked like he was in a game action photo, his body in an angular, air-born position. The football was an inch from his outstretched hands and, by where his feet were positioned, he was in the end zone.

Li's small hands patted the curled up poster smooth and a soft snort escaped my lips as she patted over his butt.

"You hear about the fountains?" I asked and showed her the picture I'd taken.

"Yep. It's just the start." Li sighed and shook her head at my screen. "Ask Jake about Tommy the Trojan. They have twenty-four-seven security teams stationed outside that statue. He's probably already wrapped up in duct tape and being guarded by the Trojan Knights."

I blinked a few times at whatever the fuck Li had just explained to me, then remembered another changed UCLA landmark I'd seen guarded like the popemobile earlier this week. "Is that why the bear statue is boxed in plexiglass?"

She nodded. "Actually, I think by the end of the week it'll be wrapped with a thick blue tarp and a sign that says, 'The Bruin Bear is Hibernating' for protection."

"Protection." I snorted softly at the extent idiots went to defacing public property. "Who's behind it?"

"Students, alum, who knows." She gave me a half-amused smile and swung her short legs over the side of her bed. "You should see the meme war online."

"Meme war..." I repeated, sat down at my desk, and opened my laptop. "Now that's more like it."

A hearty laugh left me at the first option I brought up, a picture of a guy and a girl on the top of a building with pinkish-orange brick. The girl leaned her elbows over the edge, ass hinged up, while the guy stood behind her presumably naked and fucked her from behind, with the caption, "Even girls at UCLA have a Trojan in them."

Guilty... pick a hole, really.

Wonder if there's any about - oop, yes.

My finger clicked through the options for Jake-related memes, which the UCLA-internet didn't disappoint.

Every time Jake Harrison gets sacked, an angel gets its wings.

Jake Harrison walks into a bar... to watch Ethan Burke play in the next round.

Harrison, your mom called. You left your game at home.

This sign has more personality than Jake Harrison.

"Not wrong." I snorted at a Forrest Gump cut-and-paste one, where Forrest leaned over and spoke to number seven's USC-uniformed frame.

But you ain't got no legs, Lieutenant Harrison.

"Some of these are..." I paused and looked over one with Patrick from SpongeBob. "Ehh, what the hell."

A few quick snapshots later, I spammed Jake with the insults.

me: [ link ]
me: [ link ]
me: [ link ]
me: [ link ]
me: [ link ]
me: [ link ]

dickhead: Thanks. I've only seen those a hundred times today posted all over my social media pages.

dickhead: Even worse, my USC email address must've been leaked. My inbox is flooded with Viagra ads.

My head pitched back as I barked out a loud laugh.

me: No shame in ED, Jake.

me: We'll work through it.

His three little dots teased me for a few message attempts. He finally replied once his two working brain cells had gotten together and figured out how I'd paid him back for the trashed dildos.

dickhead: you!? Itching powder in my underwear wasn't enough?

Another laugh cackled out of me, followed by a smile that tugged my lips wider.

me: you hurt my dicks, I hurt yours back.

me: Itchy balls, ED, sounds like I need an equipment upgrade.

"Stop being so cute," Li muttered as she jumped down.

My head snapped up at her words and I ignored Jake's response. After a few seconds' pause, I realized that she was right. A wide, goofyass grin pinched tension up into my cheeks. I dropped it faster than a teenage boy's first time coming to porn and lifted up my shoulders slightly. "I enjoy insulting him. I can't help it, easy target."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but I caught the way her mouth tugged towards one side. "Wait, why are you in a bad mood?"

"My parents told me to visit home this weekend." She cupped her face in her hands.

"And...?" I pressed, although by the way her shoulders wrenched up towards her ears, I assumed that poor Li had another not-Kieran date in her future.

"They're bringing Han," she stated flatly.

"Han... Solo?" I joked, at the most inappropriate time based on the string of Mandarin curse words she shot me.

Fucking inappropriate, white girl.

Me, being me, just smiled. "Han is?"

"Another potential son-in-law," she groaned and thrust her phone at me.

I blinked down at her text messages, which looked like hieroglyphics to me. A few scrolls down was a picture of a thin, terrified-looking Asian guy with glasses who stood backed into a wall next to a shiny, fake potted plant.

"He looks, uhh..." I pressed my lips together but my shoulders still bounced. "You'll never lose a single argument, Li. He looks more like a flan than a Han."

"Ahh, no!" My smartass comment set off an unusual spark from my roommate and fire burned in her dark irises. "But I'm with Kieran! I like Kieran! I -"

I nearly dropped her phone as she clamped both palms over her mouth. Various shades of pink crept up her cheeks and spread like a rash to her entire face, neck, and chest.

"You..." The L-word dissolved on my tongue like a bad taste and I curled it inward in retreat.

"I... don't... know," she mumbled from behind her hands.

Since my bullshit meter wasn't convinced, I crossed my elbows over my stomach and stood silently. Li's facial reactions shifted like she moved in slow motion, but I caught every one of them. Her eyes darkened as her gaze hardened and a fine line creased the ivory skin between her thin, black brows. Her blush receded the more her eyes narrowed but a soft glow cast over her skin like a fucking halo.

By the time Li's hands lowered, her thin, pale lips were set in a firm line. "No," her voice came out quiet but steady, confident, and full of conviction.

Oh no. Don't do it, Li. Save your -

Her eyes flooded with brightness, like two stars hung in her dark brown irises. Her lips pulled into a huge smile, stretched so far that I could've given her a dental exam.

She fucking beamed at me... and glowed like she internally burst with absolutely pure joy and happiness.

"Uhh..." I absently scratch my nails on my chin. "Li? Do you need to sit -"

"I love him. Oh fuck, I love Kieran!" she squealed out, surged forwards, and choked her small arms around me. "I love him!"

Oh fuck. She's not going to break out in song, is she?

Sure looks like she is.

"Cool," I choked out and patted my palm on top of her head. "Uhh... You should tell, uhh, him."

"I know it's soon, just nine weeks but I haven't felt this way about anyone." My ribs crunched inward as she gasped and squeezed me harder. "Do you know how amazing he is?"

"No," I started with the sinking sensation that she hit me with her favorite Kieran qualities. The way her eyes lit up and lips parted slightly as she stared at me, she sure looked like she built up the reasons in her mind.

Mine however, settled into a state of silent shock.

Li loves Kieran.

Fuck, Friendzone had better not screw this up or I'll toss his balls into the Pacific to feed those ugly-ass fish they make Filet-o-Fish patties out of.

Once she started rambling, my brain tuned out Li's laundry list of what she liked about Kieran. I caught sight of Jake's remaining three wall posters, which directed my thoughts towards the asshole.

The second reason I'd hypothesized about Jake's uneasiness, the way he tensed whenever I left, was related to our deal. While the end of football season meant the end of Jake's performance pressure, I assumed that it also meant the end of our agreement. With a finite number of days left, and decreased, maybe Jake felt the need that he appreciated whatever time we still had together.

Just a theory. Didn't say it was a good one.

I wanted to say we continued our deal through February for the NFL Combine and then the draft in May, but he wasn't draft-eligible this year.

Sadly, even with whatever shreds of ego and independent stubbornness I had left completely ignored, I didn't want to end our deal. As much as I hated to admit an emotionally attached weakness, part of me craved the idea Jake was with me because he wanted to be, not just needed for the obvious reasons that we both benefited from.

Probably stupid to even think that. Get your head out of your vagina, Harper.

If I needed any more obvious of a reminder of what we were, and more important weren't, Jake had spelled it out clearly in his reply.

dickhead: There isn't any upgrade over me, firecracker.

dickhead: Get your ass over here and I'll prove it, unless you want me coming over there. Your pick of who hears you screaming.

As I texted my response, I realized how focused and clear-headed I'd been this semester because of our agreement. With the exception of Jake's annoying but ignorable jersey-chaser drama, I had solid relationships within my life. Sure, I wasn't the top performer in my class but did well enough that I saw a certification in my future that approached closer one day at a time.

For once in my life, I had clarity and direction on my life's path and that... felt pretty fucking good.

Maybe I'm giving too much credit to Jake.

And my vagina.

He's probably getting ready to fuck and chuck me once football's done. Not like he doesn't have a lining of willing vaginas breaking into his fucking room.

Those reasons, which resurfaced the last time I'd thought about our next date, were why I dreaded it. Two possibilities of where Jake and I went after his season ended rose up from the back of my mind. I was torn between the stupid idea that I pitched out us not ending whatever the fuck we were and erecting my emotional wall in preparation for the inevitable dissolvement of our agreement.

My forehead throbbed with a threatened headache and I massaged it with the tips of my fingers. The corners of my mouth curled up as I looked down between my legs, but felt anything but happy with a bipolar outcome.

At least we had a good run?

My eyes closed under the weight of my own thoughts, the uncertainty of which bothered me a lot. The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, sagged my shoulders, and twisted my stomach.

I'd never judged Jake for his promiscuity with others but the idea he was with someone else, pleasured her body, gazed down at her in awe, wrapped his arms around her afterwards... bothered me. A lot.

Even I couldn't deny how much that shit hurt.