Play With Me (Love The Game #8)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“Why the fuck is he here?” I grunt, looking at the cocky guy making his way through the crowd of people at the frat house.

His dark brown hair is loose and wavy, falling over his forehead before he pushes it back carelessly.

My eyes swivel down to his outfit. He’s wearing jeans and a half-unbuttoned shirt, showing off his bare, muscular chest and a few tattoos that are etched onto his skin there.

He even dresses like an asshole. Guess he can’t help himself.

Paulie looks to where my attention has landed and then shrugs. “I mean, he lives here. And even if he didn’t, it’s Colton Cavanaugh. He can go wherever he wants. His stepdad is like a donor to the school. They named a whole building after him.”

“Fuck off with that. He’s no better than anyone else. Money or not.”

Paulie turns and peers up at me through his locks of red curls. “I mean, Xochitl didn’t seem to think so. She did leave you for him.”

My eyes narrow as I watch Colton slap hands with a few guys, then grab a beer and sip it. His tan throat bobs, and I imagine wrapping my hands around that lithe column and squeezing.

I could do it, too. I’m stronger than him, bigger. I’m a rugby player, the fly-half. I could bench press the little soccer-playing shit. Not that it stopped Xochitl from dumping me for him, but still.

I could take him any day, and there’s nothing he could do about it.

“For what it’s worth, she’s not with him anymore either, if that makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” I say as I sip from my plastic cup of beer.

It only makes me angrier. I liked Xochitl.

We only dated for a few weeks, but I would have kept it going if she hadn’t left me for him.

I don’t really blame her, though. The way he walks and talks, the smarmy grins he gives people, the way he throws his money and popularity around—I know he seduced her with all of it.

She really had no chance of resisting him.

“Come on, let it go,” my friend, Paulie, says. “Just ignore him. Find some other hot chick to get with tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” I murmur, but my eyes don’t leave Colton.

I watch as he laughs and smiles, talking with everyone.

They all love him. A girl approaches and clings to his neck, leaning in and kissing him right on the lips.

She doesn’t even ask permission, and still, he allows it.

He cups her chin with his hand and slides his tongue against hers.

The kiss is slow and thrusting until he pulls away with spit-riddled lips.

He winks at her with those dark eyes and thick lashes, making her blush.

Fuck this guy. I mean, really. Fuck him. My focus moves to the girl, who is staring at him, and for a moment, I think I should try to get with her.

But a moment later, he’s already moved on, the girl forgotten.

I just need to figure out who he’s really into and get her to go out with me instead.

I’ll wine and dine her, show her how she deserves to be treated, and she’ll forget all about Colton.

That’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.

Let him feel what it’s like for someone to say no to him, to reject him.

I think he’d be a better human for it.

So, I watch him. Far too much. He even catches me watching him at one point and winks. The fucker.

I’ll show him.

He’ll find someone he wants, and when he does, I’ll swoop in and take them. Show him how it feels.

I might even get lucky and get a real girlfriend out of it.

Haven’t really had much luck in that department.

I mean, I’m good-looking in my own way. I have more of a boy-next-door look than Colton’s rich, bad-boy aesthetic.

He just oozes sex appeal. It’s in the way he dresses, talks, and smiles.

I, on the other hand, have a kind smile, curly reddish-blond hair that’s impossible to style, and dark blue eyes.

I do have muscles from playing rugby, though.

A lot of them, actually, but still. I blend in.

There’s just something about Colton that stands out, that draws the eye.

My hand fiddles with the lucky coin in my pocket that my grandma gave to me when I was younger. It’s been with me through it all. Through my dad’s death, through the move to New Falls, and the transition into college.

“Hold onto this, Myles. It will bring you the best of luck.”

My grandmother was right. It worked. Despite some shortfalls and some struggles, I’m a fairly lucky guy.

And if I can manage to hurt Colton like he hurt me, I’ll count that as another win.

I don’t take my eyes off him all evening, watching every interaction he has.

He moves around like a rabbit, hopping from one person to the next. He kisses almost every girl he comes into contact with, but he shows no specific signs of interest in any of them. Each act is quick and sensual, drawing them in before he pulls away and moves on.

Disposable. That’s what they are to him. Just like fucking trash.

I bet that’s what happened with Xochitl. I bet he simply discarded her. If that’s what happened, she must have been so fucking hurt.

The thought just makes me angrier. Because even though she wounded me by choosing him, I do still like her and would even consider her a friend.

She’s nice, sweet even. She deserves better.

Most women do. Maybe it’s because I grew up with a single mom and three sisters, but I realize a lot of women are treated terribly by men.

It’s why I’ve always been so intentional about dating. It’s why I’ve always gone out of my way to be kind and respectful to women. Apparently, charm and sex appeal trump that.

I glug down my third beer of the night, feeling slightly buzzed when I make my way outside to look for Colton. He disappeared after a filthy grinding session on the dance floor with a girl I didn’t recognize. When the song changed, I couldn’t locate him anywhere.

It’s like he disappeared into thin air.

The only thing I can think of is he’s outside, making moves on the flowers and trees.

The thought makes me grin stupidly.

If I find him making out with a flower, I will video the shit out of that and spread it around the school. Not that it would change anything. He’d still be the king of the fucking castle. People could see him fucking another dude, and they wouldn’t blink.

I move out back, striding past groups of people lingering and gossiping, and straight into the small forest next to the frat house. Large pines and spruces shadow the trail, making the moonlight almost invisible. It makes it almost impossible to see. Everything is just fog and shades of gray.

I continue walking while sipping my beer, running a hand over my chest as I step over a fallen tree, and I almost trip when I hear a sound before me.

“Look who it is. You following me, Witkoff?”

I freeze, turning my head to see Colton leaning up against a tree, smoke filtering around his face. He blends in with the mist, the shadows, like he’s one of them.

“You smoking?” I manage to ask.

“You gonna tell on me?”

I stare at him and shrug. “Maybe.”

“Yeah. I knew it. But I don’t blame you. You can’t fucking help yourself. You’re boring.”

I bristle because I may be a little boring, but I kind of have to be.

I’m not a rich fuck who can dick around and have my stepdaddy bribe my way out of the shit I land in.

First, I don’t have a dad, not anymore. And second, I’m on a full-ride scholarship to this college.

My family lives paycheck to paycheck. We don’t have the luxury of being stupid. I’m not privileged the way he is.

“Maybe I’m just responsible,” I counter, and his dark chuckle slithers over me.

“Or you’re just boring.”

He snuffs the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe and tucks it away in his pocket. I despise how he doesn’t litter. If he did, it would make me hate him more, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He must know how much I hate it and is doing it to bother me.

He steps toward me, his dark hair slightly mussed, his shirt completely open now, showing off his abs and a large tattoo extending from his belly button and wrapping around his hip. Can’t quite make out what it is. Not that I care to look that hard.

“You peeking, hm?” he says with an annoying grin. “Most people like what they see.”

“You fucking wish,” I grunt. “And I’m not peeking. I’m just sizing you up.”

“Hm. You are a lot bigger than me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take you.” As he says this, his shoulder knocks into me, and I push him away.

He stumbles back with a huff and then progresses toward me again, his eyes flashing as he presses both hands onto my chest and shoves. I barely move, and his lips twitch in annoyance or humor, I can’t tell which one.

“You were made to be a rugby player,” he remarks, almost admiringly.

“Fuck yeah, I was.”

“You know, I’ve watched you play before. Watched those thick thighs move across the field. I can see why you’re the fly-half.”

Something hot moves through me at his compliment. “What the fuck are you saying? I’m not gay.”

“Neither am I. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the human form. And you, Myles, have a nice form.”

His eyes flick up and down my body almost mockingly, and I push him backward, making him laugh. It’s dark and low, and when his fist moves to hit me, I grab it and wrench it behind his back.

He lets out a small giggle, his head turned to face me, his lips just inches from mine. It’s almost like he wants to kiss me. He won’t, right? He would never…

Suddenly, I’m on the ground, rocks and twigs digging into my side, a wheeze escaping my lungs. Shit, I wasn’t expecting that. How did he get me like this? How the fuck did I not see it coming?

“I might be a soccer player,” he whispers into my ear, his chest pressing against my back, his forearm around my throat. “Might be the best at what I do on the field, but I’m also good at this.”

“Fuck off.”

“You wanna know how, hm?”

“Fuck. Off.”