A smile spread across my face at the message on my phone screen.

Ellie: Hey wonder twin.

That'll definitely cool me off.

If there was one turn-off in my life then any time I'd talked with my younger sister Ellie was definitely it. Despite her message, we were just Irish twins. With my early September birthday and her late August one, us being placed in the same grade and her smarter than me annoyed me growing up.

High school wasn't easy for Ellie, so once my starting quarterback role took over, I spent most of high school days with bloodied knuckles until enough guys at school looked in any direction other than at my sister. With the distance between USC and her school, University of Washington, we'd drifted further apart in college but reconnected our third year after our Dad died.

Ellie and I called each other once a week, every Sunday, so whatever she'd contacted me about before our next scheduled call must have been important.

me: Hey. Get moved in okay?

Ellie: Yup. My roommate is doing most of the heavy lifting though. 😉

I rolled my eyes at my sister's setup. For the second year in a row, she lived with her long-term boyfriend Logan Hightower, my rival in high school and now UW's quarterback. The only difference this year was that their living arrangement was planned.

Hightower was creative swapping roommates with Ellie to get her back, I'll give him that much credit.

UW's football program was still a slight class below USC's, but Hightower made a huge impact. In his first season, he'd taken the Huskies from a rebuilding year into a powerhouse for the bowl games just below the national championship level. Last year, his team lost the PAC-12 Championship game to us but won the Fiesta Bowl for the Huskies. That deserved a lot of respect, which Logan had definitely earned from me, but on a personal level I actually respected the guy more for how he cared about my sister.

Enough that I said he can marry her.

When Hightower asked me, or more like told me, he wanted to marry Ellie during last year's winter break, I'd thought he'd have proposed to her by now. Nine months later, he still hadn't so I assumed he just waited for the right moment.

Whatever the hell that means.

That said, the idea that my sister and her boyfriend lived together with most likely a sex life I sadly envied for the first time in my life was the last thing I wanted to think about.

I paused for a moment on the sidewalk and responded to her message, which hadn't seemed like much of an update.

me: Spare me the details, but sorry I couldn't help you move in.

Ellie: It's okay, you had football... all summer. I just wanted to ask a favor.

me: Anything.

Ellie: Good...

Ellie paused for a moment, then text bubbles appeared on and off for a few minutes.

"Any day now, Ellie." I frowned at the intersection in front of me and waited for whatever she needed. I had a good idea what she attempted and failed to put into written words, so I just hit the call button.

"Hey," she breathed into the phone like she'd heaved a sigh. The uncertainty in her soft voice was obvious, which reinforced my suspicion that I knew what she'd called me about.

Logan approached me at the end of last year, almost nine months ago, for Ellie's hand in marriage. I appreciated the gesture, given our Dad had passed away a month prior.

Honestly, no part of me wanted to give my sister to anyone, but over the past four years Logan had proven how much he loved Ellie. The most unbelievable part, one I'd never have related to in my wildest dreams, was two years' celibacy while he waited to get back together with my sister.

Slowly, I came around and appreciated the fact that I trusted no one else with Ellie... Even if our teams met against each other here the fifth week of the season.

My team will destroy his anyways, just like last year's PAC-Twelve Conference.

"Ellie, are you okay?" Even eighteen hours away, I'd never shut off big brother mode for her. "Did Logan -"

"We're fine. He's unpacking some kitchen stuff for me, so he'll be busy for at least an hour."

Ellie and her kitchen shit.

Ellie inherited an obsession with cooking from our Mom, who'd insisted that I knew the basics as well. The two of them owned more kitchen appliances than any home goods store. My meals were provided by my football scholarship and I pooled my stipend money with the eleven guys for a house chef who prepared our meals. I was still decently capable in the kitchen though.

Only ever cooked one meal for a girl before though...

Wait, Logan hasn't asked Ellie yet. She would've blurted it out already.

Before I unpacked the idea my baby sister was engaged then married, her uncertainty snapped my attention again.

"Jake, I'm not sure how to say this but..."

"Spit it out already, Ellie." I looked up and took a visual inventory of where I'd walked to oncampus but instead caught sight of the Colosseum, USC's football stadium, that loomed in the background.

Ever since I was seven, which by no coincidence was my jersey number, I'd dreamt that I played for the USC Trojans. Since nothing in life was guaranteed, from a moment of stupidity where I'd lost the potential opportunity that I played here, I'd straightened up mine in almost all areas possible.

Saying I had an anger management problem throughout high school was an understatement, which got me into trouble my senior year. After I beat the shit out of the guy who assaulted my sister when she was fourteen, USC suspended my football scholarship offer, which was only reinstated as academic and athletic probation after Ellie herself came to the Athletic Department Director and revealed the truth.

I'd hit rock-bottom the moment Ellie saved my ass, both academically and in football, and swore that I improved myself. In a slow, painful combination of anger management classes, one-on-one counseling, group sessions, and just plain figured out the shit I wanted in my life, I was almost an entirely improved guy.

Almost. Probably still lacking in one particular area, but no one's perfect.

Of all people, one particular girl I'd been way too obsessed with for almost one-third of my life had finally smacked more than enough awareness into me about how selfish I was with how I used girls. Every sexual experience I'd had with a girl had been mutual, never when they were drunk, but they were just meaningless one-night stands.

The most sobering moment I'd had with a girl happened the same time Hightower asked me about marrying Ellie. After an amazing sex-filled weekend that simultaneously cracked into my usually closed up emotions and blew away any previous physical experiences, the one I'd thought I'd wanted for more than casual hookups flat out tossed me aside like a piece of trash.

Harper Reynolds.

Like I'd eaten too spicy food, my gut flamed and chest clenched at just the repeat of that girl's name in my head. Given Harper essentially told me I was her life's biggest regret, I couldn't have been more surprised when Ellie blurted out, "Harper is transferring to UCLA this semester. She's driving down today, so will you look out for her?"

My throat tightened in on itself and I coughed on my own saliva. If anything stood in my walking path at that moment, then I would've smashed into it and landed flat on my face.

Shit, if I'd had Ellie's lack of coordination, then I would've tripped over thin air.

Not much rendered me speechless and immobile, but Ellie accomplished both with just five words.

Harper is transferring to UCLA!?

"Harper... Reynolds?" My voice squeaked higher like my balls were in a vice. I sounded like exactly I was back in high school when I was so whipped over Harper that, once I got to college, I fucked anyone with two legs to get over how crazy I was about her.

For the record, that approach is fun but never works.

"Yes, how many important Harpers are there in my life?" Ellie asked dryly.

In an equally sarcastic voice, I gave the understatement of the century, "Harper hates me."

Had anyone except Ellie informed me of Harper's transfer, then I would've assumed it was a joke. My mind reeled with this information, while other parts of my body - particularly the recently neglected ones - already considered mutiny against my common sense like they always did with that girl.

"Well, she doesn't know anyone there and I'd, umm... I mean, she'd feel better if someone familiar looked out for her." Ellie hadn't convinced me at all, neither did her shitty poker face and previous assurances that she was fine if Harper and I were together. "She's never been away from home, she's stayed in Santa Cruz with her dad since high school."

"That doesn't sound like her at all." The Harper I knew instilled fear in any guy and never needed protection for anything. "If anything, the dicks and balls in the greater Los Angeles area are now at risk."

"Dicks and balls aside..." Static buzzed into my ear as Ellie sighed. "Her dad asked me to ask you."

"Right..." I frowned since that answer made just as little sense as if Harper had asked Ellie herself, especially because I still had Harper's number and, not coincidentally, heard nothing from her in the past nine months.

I put aside my suspicions about why Ellie really told me this and instead asked, "Why is she coming down here now, during her senior year?"

"She's going into UCLA's paralegal program." Ellie gave me surprisingly good news, considering the last time I'd really spoken to Harper, her dad cracked down on her until she figured out her life plan. "I know you guys argued a lot but her dad said he'd sleep better knowing she had someone, anyone, to trust down there. LA is a big city, Santa Cruz is... Well, you know."

Small enough that everyone knows everyone's business.

Ellie wasn't wrong, Los Angeles had nearly four million people sprawled over a very large geographic area. I'd lived here three years so I knew the hellish highways as well as the back and side roads, the bars and clubs where people went to be noticed, and the discreet restaurants for privacy.

The University of Southern California was technically a private research college with almost fifty thousand students. With its ridiculously high cost of tuition, I only attended USC because of my football scholarship. At the next intersection I stopped at, I lifted my eyes and a small smile tugged on my mouth at the sight of the familiar red-brick, cement, and Mediterranean-style buildings.

Home away from home.

"Hang on Ellie, I'm walking back." As soon as I crossed over Jefferson Street and followed USC's long, straight sidewalks, right away I attracted head nods, smiles, fist bumps, and picture requests. As I nodded politely at the strangers I passed who felt they already knew me and pulled my phone off my ear for a few selfies, my thoughts wandered.

Harper and I had a history that was both simple and complicated. Simply put, we'd hooked up a few times but always under complicated circumstances. Early hatred between me and Harper was entirely my fault, for which I hadn't apologized for. And the explicit details of these circumstances, including the most recent one ten months ago, for Ellie's sake, we'd kept secret from her.

Ellie knows enough and claims it doesn't bother her but I slept with her best friend, mutually but behind her back... How couldn't it bother her?

Obviously, Mr. Reynolds had no idea of what I'd done with his daughter, or how I'd give my left nut to do anything to her again if the opportunity arose. Had he known even one Harper-related thought that still ran through my mind, he'd want me nowhere near her.

When I was thirteen, I'd convinced myself that I was in love with Harper. She was my first crush and, like a bad afterschool Disney special, I wanted nothing more than her to be my girlfriend. Even though I had no idea what her being 'mine' meant, I just wanted her. The moment she agreed was the sappiest moment of my high school life. She was my first everything but we'd taken each other's V-cards while a certain piece of shit Ryder Stevens violated my sister's innocence in a sexual assault that changed all three of our lives..

I know now it wasn't entirely my fault but fuck, it felt like it was for years.

I still thought I was the worst brother in the world for what happened to Ellie. I'd brought my younger sister to a party where I left her by herself and she was sexually assaulted while, worst of all, I slept with her best friend while it happened.

I wasn't there for Ellie because I was physically wrapped up in Harper, but fuck I'd invited both of them with me that night, and guilt that flooded into me hardened my emotions faster than Ellie's tears stained her cheeks. Years of anger management therapy taught me that I'd misplaced my guilt that I'd failed Ellie into short-tempered, quickly flared up anger. I became our high school's asshole and Harper unfortunately was the first girl that I was an asshole towards.

The night Ellie, Harper, and I sat outside, even after I attempted to kick Ryder's ass and he kicked mine instead, all my priorities changed. Cemented rock hard with guilt, my heart had no room for other emotions. Once Ryder graduated, I unapologetically vowed that I protected my sister at any expense and went through high school with enough fists thrown that I upheld that vow until Hightower snuck into the picture.

The real asshole move was I never apologized to Harper for what I did.

I'd even fought off my best friend Kieran Meade until Ellie decided she no longer needed me to fill that role in her life. After high school, Kieran and I actually stayed in touch easily because of his close proximity. He attended UCLA, played tight end for our local rival the Bruins, and occasionally chilled with me for a drink or two.

Until I fucked that up recently too.

I texted Kieran with a lame apology and excuse that I hadn't realized Brit was his girlfriend when she came onto me at the hotel bar, but only got a blocked number response. I'd also initiated equally lame apology attempts with Harper throughout high school, but her feelings were so closed off by the time I came to my senses that I never stood a chance. I was fully aware of how pathetic I became with anything Harper-related, but cold shoulder push after push from her, eventually I got the hint and stayed away.

One of my hands rubbed over my forehead because I couldn't deny the obvious, infuriating fact about myself.

Like I could ever stay away from that girl. She's my fucking dick-magnet.

I took a deep breath, exhaled sharply, and turned off Jefferson Street into a residential neighborhood just two blocks from the main part of campus. A few steps and completely distracted thoughts later, my feet had brought me to the front of a white brick, black shuttered, two-story house that I rented with eleven of my teammates, i.e., 'the football house.'

Normally the smell of body odor hit me once I stepped inside but today I breathed in only lemon and bleach-based cleaners. The living room was cleaned up, furniture dusted, windows clear, and most importantly, the floors absent of Griff's food crumbs.

Rookies finally showed up.

"Hey Jake," Griff, or Chase Griffin, greeted me with a chin lift since one of his dark-skinned hands clutched a large pizza box and the other a gigantic bottle of water. My fifth-year wide receiver packed down greasy food like no one else and I had no idea how it never slowed him down, but appreciated that it didn't. We had a mutual benefit relationship on the field, since his name was on the watchlist for potential NFL-drafted players.

"Griff," I grunted at him, then held up the phone I still held in my ear. "Hang on Ellie."

While Griff flopped himself down onto one of our ratty, brown sofas before he no doubtedly covered it with crumbs, I walked out of the living room, headed upstairs, and ended up down the hall to the room on the very end. With twelve guys and a revolving door of girls, I was extremely paranoid about my privacy. With one twist of my wrist, I unlocked my bedroom door, locked it behind me, and sat down on the edge of the queen-sized bed that took up most of the small room's floor space.

"While I waited..." Ellie probably heard the background silent around me and spoke up. "I texted you Harper's new number."

"She has a new one?" I mumbled absently while I scrolled through my phone contacts. Sure enough, Ellie sent me a new number, so I pulled up Harper's info and changed the number. My mouth curled up at the picture of her scowl and two middle fingers flashed up under the contact I'd listed as 'HER,' which held more meaning than just Harper's initials.

Harper was the kind of girl who drew an entire room's interest when she walked in. She was ridiculously beautiful, tall, sun-kissed blonde hair, sky blue eyes, legs for miles, and a naturally gorgeous body. Her slender curves were one of my favorite, if not the favorite, body that had laid under and over mine.

Harper's looks were just the visual temptation flower but her personality was the Venus fly trap. Her signature body language included all-knowing smirks, a direct eye gaze, stubborn chin lifted, straightened spine, and hips that swayed to their own beat. Her entire aura projected, 'Fuck you,' with a side of those two middle fingers for any guy who hadn't gotten her message the first time.

From a guy's perspective though, there's nothing sexier than a confident girl.

As a confident girl with a sky-high sex drive, a willingness to do anything that satisfied herself, and a vulgar vocabulary that rivaled any guy I'd ever met, Harper fit into a goddess class of her own. Despite my best efforts as I fought against my desires, my urges, my feelings, one thing was constant over the seven years I'd known her...

Harper Reynolds had my dick twisted around her little finger.

Thanks to me, the possibility that Harper and I were in a relationship was a pipe dream. But we were always drawn back to each other, where even she couldn't deny the magnetic pull when we were in each other's presence. I was the moth, as just the sight of her churned my senses, and she was the flame threatened to burn me alive.

I couldn't begin to describe how fucked up my now non-relationship with Harper Reynolds was but our last 'conversation' provided enough hints. After what, sadly for me, started out as one of the best damn trips of my life, which I hadn't expected, Harper and I found ourselves outed in the hot seat by my sister about what exactly existed between me and her best friend.

Short answer, a hot, complicated mess.

Within a blink, the memory of when Harper revealed her true feelings replayed through my mind. From across an outdoor bar table in the middle of nowhere Canada, Ellie's eyes bored down at me with the same heat I felt from Harper next to me, so I rubbed one hand over the back of my neck, then slipped it behind Harper's chair. At the time I was still fucked up in my head after our Dad died, which in hindsight had left me more emotionally vulnerable than normal.

Like a dumbass, I started, "Harper and I -"

"Woah woah, hold the HPV, ten second Tim," Harper interrupted me with an ice-cold chill in her voice. "There is no Harper and Jake. And if you want that hand intact for your next football game, kindly withdraw it."

Ellie and her boyfriend Logan exchanged some gross couples' muttered conversation before she clasped her hands again and frowned at Harper. "I know better than to ask if it's a relationship but clearly you're sleeping together, so... What are you?"

After a moment of silence, Harper and I blurted out our answers at the same time.

"Nothing." "Situationship."

In hindsight, I wanted to smack myself at that moment. I'd just spent three days straight, the whole day, with the same girl and hadn't gotten bored, and my emotions weren't stable. At one point, even repressed feelings came out about my Dad's death. Harper was understanding, one of her fingers dragged away the surprising tears that sprung up uncontrollably and, in a flash moment of absolute stupidity, I saw the possibility of a deeper connection with her.

When all she wanted was to remove me from her life.

After the phrases Harper threw out in response, she couldn't have felt more opposite. Each slam she threw out stabbed right into my stupid, fractured heart.

"So basically I'm just another one of your jersey-chasing fuck girls, for you to screw whenever your itch needs a scratch."

Not true.

"It was just random sex and meant absolutely nothing."

Not for me.

Behind my back, she added the final insult, "The only thing I'm sorry for is ever getting involved with that asshole."

Point made, firecracker. Message received.

I meant every word when I told Harper that I didn't need her to tell me twice. After she laid out how she couldn't have possibly cared less for me, I backed off and left her alone. We saw each other casually but I left that weekend more affected by her than I comfortably admitted.

On my long flights back to LA, I realized that Harper was partially right. I was too casual, too detached, so unlike what the USC rumors still spread, I became more selective and actually attempted to find a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I either attracted the wrong girls, was attracted to them, or a combination of both because all my 'relationship' attempts ended up like... my current situation.

Whatever this shit is with Brit, it's not working.

"Look, if you don't want to help her then that's okay." Ellie's words cut through my thoughts. "I'll ask Josh or Kieran, they're both at UCLA."

Not a chance, she'll eat either or both of those softies alive.

"Sorry, I'm thinking..." I stalled, laid down on my bed, and kicked off my shoes.

Despite how I'd dedicated one-third of my life and sabotaged away my dignity from this raw, toxic infatuation I had with Harper, the facts were undeniably obvious.

Harper hates me.

Harper doesn't do intimate relationships, which is probably my fault.

She's also the only one who's ever fucked me senseless.

Her new school is ten minutes away.

After my cock had gone flaccid from Brittany's rejection and talking with Ellie, it pulsed with life at the possibility of being with Harper. The more images of her that flooded into my brain, not even the fact I still had Ellie on the phone quelled the urges that fogged my brain and rendered my common sense inoperable.

If I had Harper in my sexual corner for the semester, then my dick would never be wetter and head clearer.

Semester? Who am I kidding? I'd be lucky to have my cock buried inside her for one more night.

More movement between my legs, followed by a painful constriction, suggested my dick more than agreed with that idea.

"I can't promise anything," I finally replied to Ellie. "But I'll reach out to her."

She sighed loudly again and relief hit my ear with her response, "Thank you. Good luck this semester. Mom and I will see you in five weeks against the Huskies, okay?"

"Of course," I replied quickly. "Text me if you and Mom want USC or visitor side tickets. I'll give you my center stadium, first row seats if you sit on USC's side, but you get the nosebleed, drunk student section if you want to cheer for those loser Huskies."

"Ugh." Ellie groaned at my teasing. "You're terrible."

"No argument here but plan for dinner with Mom afterwards," I reminded her.

Despite the long drive from Santa Cruz, Mom attended every one of my home games, plus away games that were nearby. She was a huge hit in the football house since she always arrived with a car load of baked or cooked things, an interest Ellie shared with her. But, after Dad died, I always took her out for dinner after every game.

I'd have done anything for my sister Ellie, including looked after Harper if needed. Problem was, I had no idea what her perspective was. I knew many, many things about Harper Reynolds, one of which was I never had to wonder what her opinion was.

A quick glance down at the red, swollen head of my cock stuck straight up between my legs was the only motivation I needed.

And I know just how to tease that out of her.