Sometimes being an asshole comes in handy.

I never fell for spam, telemarketers, or robo calls. The car I still drove was my high school beater but even at Dad's dealership, my sixteen-year-old self hadn't settled for a purchase price that wasn't a fair deal. During high school, I was never bullied and my fists meant no one, at least at Santa Cruz High, looked at my sister. Breakups, or at least rejections, were like second nature.

Which now includes Brit.

Her blue-gray eyes clouded over with confusion, candy-pink lips parted, and a shrill, eardrum-splitting, glass-breaking, half-scream, half-shriek blasted me like a shock wave.

"Wuuhhhhhyyyyyyy Babes!?"

My right hand's index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of my nose as I mentally prepped the gentlest way to explain how our breakup was beyond necessary.

Don't say Harper, don't say Harper...

I nearly nut in my shorts at the sight of Harper's torn-up appearance. While I knew she wasn't a morning person, nearly bare sleep clothes was the last way I'd expected she looked on her first day of class. The sight brought momentary flashbacks when I'd seen her like this and, with one look at her, my gut clenched tighter as I remembered how many Saturday mornings we slept together while her dad worked early.

Now though, tension strained through my body until every muscle felt wrenched tight as I internally fought between the options that I hauled her over my shoulder straight back to my bedroom or kissed her right on the spot so that every fucking person on this campus knew she was off-limits.

Obviously braless, Harper's breasts jiggled like a wet dream in her black tank top sleep shirt with each step of her long legs. When I pinned her against a campus building for more privacy, slight amounts of green appeared in her light blue eyes as she glared up at me, just how I liked them. Her nipples even poked through the thin material like a double extended handshake that all ten of my fingers twitched at for contact, but I settled for my hands palmed into the rough brick behind her. The low-cut dip in her V-neck gave me a glimpse of the skin that trailed between those breasts that heaved with her elevated breaths and fuck, I wanted in.

Harper's face was completely absent of makeup, with her blonde freckles and lighter lashes as plainly visible as the pink flushed across her cheeks and her normally straightened hair was pulled up into a tight bun. I forcibly clenched my fists tight because all my thoughts went straight to how I ripped it loose, tangled her hair in my hand, and took what I wanted.

My lips smashed against hers for the first of many times.

However, I was more than painfully aware of how enraged Harper was just at the sight of me. Her chest swelled up with a deep breath, the pink deepened across her cheeks, then spread down her neck and splayed over the visible part of her chest. Her light, clear eyes blazed like an inferno ignited inside them and her bare, pale lips wrenched sideways into her right cheek like she'd bit down on the inside.

I was beyond aroused at the sight of angry Harper and all of the suggestive ways we worked that aggression out of her flooded my mind while I remembered why I was at UCLA and snatched up her phone.

First things first.

Harper's anger boiled up to the surface of her restraint limits as fast as my fingers moved while I unlocked her phone courtesy of how well I knew her password was the four digits associated with her favorite swear word, unblocked my number, then left her a particular reminder message so she didn't block me again. A fine sheen of perspiration broke out on her hairline while one her hands clawed at my arm for her phone. While Harper had gotten the junk grab move on me before, I saw it coming and blocked her other hand she reached down for a genital advantage.

What I hadn't expected was Brit's interruption and worse how she assumed I was at UCLA for her and clenched my teeth tightly together when Harper fled the scene. Still, I took advantage of the situation enough that Harper no longer blocked me, I got my point across that I wasn't going to take being ignored, and put myself back into that girl's head.

Because with how dirty her mind is, that's exactly where I want to be.

"Babes."

I glared down at my needed-to-be-ex-girlfriend, who now trailed a long, fake nail down the side of my neck. "I know that -"

Brittany's actions were too little, too late and my eyes were already obsessively fixed on a better prize. In a flat, emotionless voice, I repeated myself, "We need to break up."

While Brit stood frozen still, her eyes wide and mouth curved in an 'o' shape, I snatched up the phone she clutched tightly in her hand and started the painfully necessary sanitization process. Thankfully, Brit was more than organized, kept her pictures of me separated, and I only half-listened to whatever swear word-filled rants she threw at me as I deleted photo album after album of pictures of us.

Brit had no explicit nudes of me because I'd only ever sent any to one girl but the speed of my fingers was driven by the irritation that flickered inside me at how fast Brit had amassed a vault of personal, intimate pictures. I even cringed at a few that she'd taken of me, obviously asleep, with her phone under a pulled up bedsheet and -

Fuck, I haven't even seen half this shit.

"What are you - no!" When Brit's screeches softened into whimpers, I lifted my eyes over her screen phone right when I deleted the last album folder, then all of her associated cloud backups.

"Yes." I glared at her right while I pulled up her social media apps. "All this shit is getting deleted."

Fuck, this will take forever.

"Those are private, asshole!" she protested with one feeble fist slugged into the center of my chest. The way her lower lip puffed out further than her chin might've tempted me in the past but not anymore.

"Privately shared with the public?" My lips curled downward and I knew from both the heat that built up from behind my eyes and by her flinched facial reaction that my glare had intensified. "You had no right to take or share pictures of me without my permission."

Brittany had no response other than she blankly looked up at me for a few moments but I stared her down until she broke off her gaze and dipped her chin to her chest. With an internal groan at what pictures and videos she'd loaded onto her social media pages, I gave up, took a screenshot with my phone of Brit's profiles, and texted them to London.

me: Can you sanitize me from these?
me: [ image attached ]

Drake: All of them? With pleasure.

That's my boy.

My brief smile faded once Drake got into her accounts.

Drake: 10min, there's a lotta shit here

While technically the social media accounts were Brit's, I'd never given her permission to share pictures of us together. And now that we were the opposite of together, those photos needed to disappear into nonexistence. I was more than grateful that my nearest roommate was not just a Computer Science major but also a paranoid internet hacker.

While my privacy was being restored, I shut off Brit's phone and clenched it tightly in my palm and stalled while London deleted her online pictures. With my other hand on Brit's lower back, I lowered my voice and steered her back into the sidewalk crowd.

"Brit, you know deep down this isn't working." My impassive voice cracked slightly at the tears that welled up in her gray-blue eyes. "Please don't cry."

I stopped walking, tucked her phone into my other pocket, and took her hands in mine. A gentle squeeze of my fingers around hers was all I needed before she looked up at me. Her irises shone behind the wall of tears that glossed over them.

Fuck, she's not going to make this easy.

"Brit -" I started when my phone vibrated in my pocket with a message. My lower lip rolled under my teeth and I held back a smile when I saw that Drake came through like I knew he would.

Drake: All clear in 5min.

At that, I placed Brit's phone in her hand, wrapped both of mine around it, and attempted my nicest bullshit rejection, "Let's be honest. We both know that now you're in Playboy, it'll open up your modeling career like you've dreamed of."

Or whatever the hell door opens that shuts the one for this relationship.

"But Babes..." The girly whine in her voice grated on both my nerves and patience. Miraculously, her tears had vanished and pout returned. "I hoped that we went on that journey together, me in modeling and you in the NFL."

She pulled her hands from mine and I inhaled sharply as she stepped closer. My hand circled around her slender wrist right before her index finger's nail stroked over my chest.

Dig deep into the bullshit, Harrison.

"I..." I paused for a dramatic effect moment, then lied through every one of my teeth, "Just don't want to hold you back. I could get injured next week and football's all over. But you, look at you, Brit. You're..."

At her blank eye blinks, I finished, "Going somewhere."

"You think so?" She gasped and I nodded because if I said anything then I probably would've laughed. Her arms extended and tightly snaked around my neck. "Oh babes! You're right. I'm probably a lot more marketable if men see me as single and available."

"Exactly," I choked out, then coughed quietly at the laugh that bubbled up my throat.

Brittany pulled back and her eyes studied mine for a few silent seconds. "You'll be okay, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded tightly and pressed my lips together firmly. "Will try my best."

"Ohhh...." she paused, then slightly tipped her chin sideways. "Because if I find out you cheated on me, like with that Harper skank, then I'll make your life a living hell, Jake Harrison."

"Brit, I haven't been with anyone but you," I assured her without a blink. "And my hand. Harper and I know each other from high school but you'll stay the fuck away from her."

I turned her hand over and tapped my index finger on her phone right when mine vibrated again in my pocket. "And stay away from me or any of my teammates while you're at it, or every one of your social media accounts will be closed and I'll sue your ass for breach of privacy."

Her jaw dropped quickly and a tiny squeak came out of her mouth, "You wouldn't."

"Not unless you force me to," I assured her and ticked my jaw tighter. "Promise me you'll respect our privacy going forwards."

"I..." she paused and rolled her lips inward. After a long pause, she nodded a few times.

One of my fingers dipped under her chin and guided her eyes up to mine. "Like you mean it."

"I promise," she spat out in a bitter voice, laced with the underlying hurt at my lack of trust but I was too far gone into self-preservation mode to care.

I looked into her eyes one last time, then said my much-needed goodbye. "Take care of yourself Brit. Good luck."

She offered a soft, almost wistful smile, then turned and we parted our separate ways. Sadly, the more steps I took, the more distance put between us, the lighter I felt. The last message I got before I shut off my phone gave me all the reassurance I needed.

Drake: All done.

"You owe me," Drake greeted me with not two steps into our house when I got back from UCLA, his jaw tight and arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer who denied me access up the stairs. "Big time."

"Yeah, yeah," I shook my head and stepped around him. "We already discussed this, pizza's on me Friday."

Thankfully, free pizza and beer for Friday's movie night had been enough of a bribe that nine of the guys in the house came with me to UCLA and canvassed the School of Law building until Griff spotted Harper for me.

Talking to EJ Campbell, of all people.

How the fuck did she meet him already? Has she met up with Kieran too?

"You owe me too," Griff called out from his seat on our ratty brown sofa, where I groaned at the sight of a gigantic bowl of cereal and milk on his lap.

"Lunch is in twenty minutes, garbage disposal," I reminded him.

"Couldn't wait," he chirped back and shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. Between bites, which included a few chunks flown out of his mouth, he frowned at me. "I got into it with EJ thanks to you."

"No." I crossed my arms over my chest. "You got into it with EJ because neither of you can keep your fucking mouths shut."

USC and UCLA played each other every year and each game I'd played in had gotten a little bit nastier. EJ Campbell played cornerback, a deep defensive position that he was good at but the ass trash-talked and ran his mouth more and more each exchange. As wide receiver, Griff had been the brunt of EJ's physical and verbal punishments, although Griff definitely dished out his own retaliations.

Guess it makes the games interesting, at least.

I never looked past the most recent upcoming game but assumed most of the team already knew when the UCLA game was.

And not just because it's the very last game of the season before the division.

A finger tapped on my right shoulder, I turned, and met London's brown eyes narrowed at me. "I mean it. Brit had a lot of shit on you. Deleted her posts along with pictures but the girl had some interesting tags my algorithm didn't pick up the first time. She was creative, I'll give her credit."

My eyebrows lifted high into my forehead. "Meaning?"

In a dry, slightly condescending tone, he clarified, "She added a few pictures on Porn Hub which, thankfully for your ass, hadn't been published yet."

Fantastic.

"What!?" My palm smacked my forehead at that development. "Fuck. Drake, I had no idea -"

"Obviously you were asleep but yeah, she... Uhh, I can't unsee those images but they're not there anymore." His eyes dropped down to the phone in my palm. "Lock that shit down though, okay? I saved your ass this time, literally, but your exposed dick probably isn't the kind of PR you want."

"No, thanks Drake. You're a lifesaver." I shook my head and internally cursed myself for how close of a call this had been, without me knowing these pictures existed at all, then offered London a bro handshake. "Name it."

His expression never changed and neither did his flat voice, "You know what I want."

"I've already given Emily a good review," I grumbled since Sophia asked me for that endorsement although Emily only gazed up at me strangely while I sang Drake's praises. If Sohpia had asked me to do that for any other guy in our house then I would've suggested the girl ran away as fast as she could but London was a good guy.

Two brown eyes narrowed into thin slits at me. "Not that."

"So, the impossible," I grumbled and rolled my eyes. "I'm not throwing away scoring chances so you can chip in easy field goals, London."

"Two in Colorado." He nodded firmly.

"You know I don't play like that." My arms crossed because this sounded a lot like blackmail, from a friend, roommate, and teammate no less.

I might be many, many things but a guy who throws games in a certain direction isn't one of them.

"One," he replied like any of this conversation was up for negotiation, so I just shook my head. With a quiet groan, he gave up, "Fine. Be a guinea pig in my capstone project this semester."

"Deal." At that, I extended one hand, which he squeezed tightly and nodded.

This wasn't the first time I'd helped London on a class assignment. For all of his genius intuition and hacker skills, his dyslexia held him back academically. I wasn't the brightest guy with computer science but helped him study whenever I could, made sure he kept up with his tutoring appointments during and after the season ended, and like now, let him use me as a guinea pig.

"What is it this time?" My eyebrows pinched a line of tension down my forehead.

"You're already started on it," he replied and dropped his eyes down to my phone. "My modified search algorithm for wiping stolen social media."

"I'm not giving you any more content," I joked but he looked at me seriously, so my grin faded. "Of course, whatever you need Drake."

"So..." Griff bounded up to us like a puppy that had too much energy, clapped his palms on my and London's shoulders, and looked straight at me. "Was she worth it? From what I saw -"

"Fuck yes." My growled out warning preceded my hand that shrugged off Griff's hold. "She's Ellie's best friend -"

"Fuck, that was her?" Our loud conversation attracted Zach's attention, who came down the stairs, ran his fingers through his black hair, and threw me a lopsided grin. "The one you're -"

"Don't," I interrupted him with a slight shove into his chest. He just palmed the area lightly but his grin only widened.

In a moment of weakness that I regretted every time the guys brought it up, in one of my few drunken stupor evenings after our season end's celebration, I'd confessed my feelings about Harper after I'd come back from the ski trip. Nearly every guy on the team saw my embarrassing confession of vomited feelings, either in person or on one of the many recorded replays from Griff or Evan's phones. Only Mister Steady Relationship Zach offered me any sympathy.

Not even the strongest of alcohol slurred my "Fuck, why doesn't she like me?" statement, which I had no desire that I heard again now. While I'd appreciated the guys' help earlier today, the last thing I wanted was another rehashed round of teasing, so with narrowed eyes at every one of them, I warned them, "End of discussion."

"Did you tell her whatever the fuck was so important that we needed a field trip?" Evan pressed.

"No," I admitted but my lips curled up at the corners. "I'm just getting started with this one. You'll see for yourselves next Saturday."

By the three skeptical looks tossed in my direction, Drake, Griff, and Zach didn't believe me. While I was possibly rusty in how I'd only actively pursued one girl since high school, the fact it was this very same girl and how I knew how to push all her buttons worked in my favor.

Even though I have no idea how she'll take my 'I'm sorry I was such an asshole' apology.

She'd probably respond better to 'I want to fuck you senseless' at this point.

I pulled out my phone and started with the direct, up-front approach.

me: Just checking that you haven't blocked me.

Once my message went through with a read receipt, I grinned like a kid on fucking Christmas.

me: Joking aside, I need to talk to you.
me: full honesty, I had a girlfriend but she means nothing. I broke up with her after I saw you.

me: She's not you.

I hesitated for a moment at my next choice of words since I assumed Harper wouldn't take them as a compliment like I intended. Like a dumbass, I sent them anyway.

me: No one is.

Again, Harper's only response was she read my messages but I knew that all I needed was what I'd been robbed of today.

One chance.

An incoming call on my phone interrupted my thoughts, so I excused myself from the expectant looks and greeted the most supportive woman in my life, "Hey Mom."

"Jake!" her voice rushed out quickly. "I thought I wouldn't catch you."

"Bad time?" I asked while my feet pounded up the stairs.

Mom hesitated long enough that I unlocked my bedroom door and shut it behind me. "I'm so sorry Jake, your first game opener next weekend, against Stanford -"

"Let me guess." A smile flinched across my mouth at how flustered she sounded. "You can't make it."

"I mean, I can," she started before hesitation took over her voice. "Maria and I got a huge order for a Sunday church service's breakfast and -"

"Mom, it's okay," I interrupted but fully knew she hadn't heard me.

"I just need to find someone to fill in, maybe Angelina or Tony -"

My ass sank down onto my bed and interrupted her again before she ran through every fucking Anthony name on her side of the family, "It's alright."

"No, it's not," she insisted quietly and I practically saw how she wrung her hands like whenever she was anxious. "I've never missed one of your home games, Jake."

"And now you work weekends," I reminded her. "There's ninety-three thousand fans, I'm sure some of them will cheer for me."

"But they're cheering for the USC quarterback," her voice wavered. "Not Jake Harrison. I'll see what I can do, call in some favors."

My thumb flipped over my phone and I pulled up our game schedule. "Why don't you just make it for week three? Notre Dame is here."

"Wouldn't miss that one, I promise." Static buzzed in my ear as she sighed loudly and the tension that strained her voice was replaced with guilt when she said, "I just don't like the idea that you don't have someone personally there for you."

With an eye roll she couldn't see, I replied dryly, "Whole team is behind me Mom, I'm fine."

"Right Honey," she dismissed my deflection attempts. "Anything else new?"

"Broke up with Brittany." A low groan left my mouth as I flopped back onto my bed and the stupid white comforter my now ex-girlfriend insisted on puffed around me. "Wasn't working."

"Oh thank goodness, Jake she was awful," Mom gushed out. "That girl had the nerve to ask me for baby pictures."

One of my palms rubbed over my forehead as news about Brit's oversharing just got worse the more I heard about it, but before I even asked how Brit contacted Mom, thankfully she assured me, "I didn't give her any. She found my email from our catering website."

Still, this is getting creepy as fuck.

I was more than grateful when Mom changed the subject, until she said, "So speaking of news, I heard Harper's now at UCLA."

"Do I even want to know how you found out?" My hand lifted off my forehead momentarily as I assumed Ellie had told the biggest shipper of me and Harper together.

"Logan's Mom Grace," she answered right away. "We're trying to coordinate coming down for the UW game. But you know how I feel about that girl, Jake."

"Yeah," I grunted the word out quietly because Mom had practically adopted Harper at first sight when we were thirteen. And she also never let me forget -

"I'll never forget the first time you met her, Jake..." Another sigh buzzed in my ears and Mom's voice took on the sappy tone she got whenever she watched her Lifetime channel movies. "Only time I've seen you tongue-tied over a girl."

With a soft slap, my hand hit my forehead again. "Mom."

"Say what you want, Jacob," a definite smile slipped into Mom's voice. "She's good for you, even as a friend. Doesn't put up with your bullshit."

While none of me admitted what I actually wanted out of Harper, especially to my mom, I deflected again, "We're not on speaking terms really Mom."

"Well..." she paused for a moment. "Whatever you did, apologize so you can have a good relationship with Harper again."

"Now you sound like Ellie," I grumbled and flopped my hand down at my side.

"No, Ellie's just gotten more mature," Mom retorted in a tone that sounded half-teasing, half-serious. "We're still waiting for you to catch up."

Thankfully, a knock at the door and Evan's downward pointed finger downstairs for dinner interrupted this conversation before it became even more of a lecture. "I'll talk to you Sunday, Mom. Don't worry about game two, I'll see you for game three."

"Good luck, Jake."

I mumbled thanks, sat up, tossed my phone on my bed next to me, and dragged both my hands through my hair. With all ten fingers cupped around the back of my neck, I squeezed my elbows tightly into my ears and exhaled sharply.

Relationship with Harper. Fucking hilarious.