Chapter 3
“Be quiet,” I growl at my phone, yanking the sheet over my head and burying myself in the darkness. It’ll stop, and then I can fall back into my perfectly good post-sex coma.
There’s more buzzing now. If anything, it’s getting louder.
“Ugh,” I grunt and reluctantly stick one of my aching arms out of the covers, blindly swiping until I feel the vibrating object in my palm. I drag it under the covers so I can turn it off, only to realize it’s a call.
Zach’s smiling face is on the screen with a green and red button underneath.
He’s not texting. He’s calling—probably to gloat about how much he wrecked me last night.
“Hey,” I answer groggily, tossing the sheet off my head because any chance of going back to sleep and dreaming about all the delicious things he did to me is well and truly dead.
“No FaceTime? What did I do to deserve such mistreatment?” His voice crackles through the line, but I can still hear his teasing tone.
“You ruined me,” I reply, which earns a hearty cackle from my boyfriend.
“Hardly. Come on, Honeycomb. Let me see you.”
I can’t say no to him. Not when he uses my nickname.
Rolling my eyes, I switch it to video and wait for his face to appear.
When it does, I realize the mistake I’ve made.
Dressed in a white tee and a backward baseball cap, Zach looks like the epitome of “awake.” Holding a large, iced coffee, he’s strolling around campus as though he didn’t dismantle my entire being in less than twenty minutes last night.
“Ah, there you are. Gorgeous as always.”
I scrape a hand across my face, pretending I don’t look like I’ve been steamrolled by sex and cheap pillows, and grumble at my boyfriend. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning?”
“Why aren’t you? It’s the start of a brand-new day. New opportunities and dreams await.”
“For once, could you not be sunshine and rainbows?”
“Wow. Cranky. Clearly, two orgasms last night weren’t enough. Maybe I should’ve gone for three. That always makes things better.”
“No. Please. My body can’t take more than two. My muscles ache, and I’m exhausted. I don’t want to leave this bed for the rest of the day, but I have class in an hour.”
“See, this is why I need you to come to the gym with me. More strength training will increase your stamina.” He takes a slurp of his drink for emphasis.
“My strength isn’t the issue,” I mutter under my breath, just low enough that he won’t be able to hear me.
The real reason for my pain is the terrible bed I’m sleeping on.
The bruises on my back prove at least three springs are poking through, and changing the mattress three separate times hasn’t done a damn thing.
That can only mean that it’s the bed frame that’s the problem.
I’ve already put in a request to replace it, but, shockingly, they still haven’t responded.
Zach’s eyes sparkle, and he shakes his head, tutting as he takes another slurp of his drink.
“How are you even up, dressed, and this peppy by seven a.m.?”
He shrugs. “I went to the gym at five.”
I let out a long groan, remembering the main reason I don’t go to the gym with him. Early mornings are not my thing. “Is that a requirement or something?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the “p.” “I just like being the first one there. All the machines are freshly cleaned, and there’s no one there to film me.”
“Ah, yes. How could I forget how hard it is for you, the King of Quarterbacks, to walk around this campus?” I joke, but we both know there’s a lot of truth to it.
“I’m glad you get it. Jacob suggested the early mornings, and it really gets my day started on the right foot.”
“Jacob?” I tease.
“Yeah, you remember—QB1 before me. Lived with Reese. Showed me around campus when I first got here. You saw his picture, and all you said was ‘wow.’”
“Sorry, still nothing,” I lie. Everyone knows Jacob Miller. He’s hot. Not Zach-level hot of course, but hot enough to land a modeling contract with one of the biggest denim brands in the country. He’s the type of player even non-fans recognize. Still, I play dumb.
“Come on. He’s the only teammate you’ve ever found attractive.”
“That’s not true,” I hum, playing innocent. “Dax and Sebi are absolutely adorable, and Mason? Well, he’s got that hard-edged, ‘I need to be humbled’ kind of vibe.”
“Ouch.” Zach presses a hand to his chest, his eyes narrowing in mock pain. “You wound me.”
“Please. You know you’re the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Damn straight,” he says with a grin.
“I just want to make sure all those thirst traps in your DMs aren’t going to your head.”
“They aren’t,” he says, his voice low and pointed, since we both know it’s not entirely a joke. The attention Zach gets at St. Michael’s is ridiculous. When he walks into a room, people practically stop breathing.
I blame it on the NIL deal he got. My boyfriend is a self-made millionaire at the age of twenty, and it’s been blasted across every media outlet in the country. The gravity of that alone has been enough to grab everyone’s attention.
I’m happy for him. Truly. He’s worked his ass off over the years, and he deserves all the attention he gets.
I just sometimes miss the time we had at the end of high school when it was just us.
Now I feel like I’m sharing him with the rest of the world.
Everyone wants a piece of him, and I’m the one constantly reminding myself that it’s me he wants.
“I don’t manage my socials anymore, remember?”
“I know,” I say quietly as the elephant in the room sits at the foot of my bed. The college and his sponsors require him to be active on social media, which is fine. The thirst traps that slide into his DMs aren’t.
At the last count, he has two hundred accounts dedicated to him.
Some are focused on football, but most are borderline unhinged.
Those ones are filled with slo-mo clips of my boyfriend throwing passes, lifting weights, or just existing with heart filters slapped over his face like he’s a damn pop star.
If I ever make an appearance, it’s only to be the punchline. The afterthought. The annoying girl ruining their fantasy.
I haven’t had an online presence since the incident with Jamie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get sent clips by anonymous people who find my number or email.
“Besides, the girls have calmed down now,” Zach says softly, trying to downplay it. He’s being nice. I know the truth. Girls always watch him. They record him mid-rep, mid-smile, mid-anything, then splice it with some dreamy music and cut to clips of their own longing stares.
We don’t talk about it much. He tends to ignore it, and although I try to pretend it doesn’t affect me, it does.
How can I not start questioning my self-worth when everyone else around me is? Especially when there are so many girls wearing his jersey and giving him the kind of look that makes my stomach twist.
Girls without baggage.
Girls who haven’t been publicly humiliated before.
Girls who don’t worry that history will repeat itself.
I can’t deny that there's a little voice in the back of my head, always reminding me that my first boyfriend cheated on me. Who’s to say I won’t lose my second the same way?
“It’s the guys in the gym who are my real problem,” he admits. “They record me and post it online so people can roast my form. It’s whatever—comes with the territory, I guess.”
“Doesn’t mean it feels good, though.”
He leans closer to the camera. “Thankfully, I don’t care about their opinion. You’re the only person who matters. Everyone else is just noise.”
I give him a small smile.
“Anyway, since it’s early and I’ve got practice tonight, I was wondering if I could bring you breakfast in bed?”
“As much as I love the idea, I’m going to have to pass.” His brows furrow, and I sigh. “We both know that if you come over, you're going to lock me in this room and wreck me until I have to sprint to class.”
“Correct. What’s wrong with that?”
“I’ll be panting the entire time.”
He slurps on his drink while the edges of his lips curl into a smile. “Then skip it. I’m starving, and your pussy is the only thing on the menu.”
I choke on air. “Zach.”
“I’m serious.”
“No. Not all of us have a future NFL career waiting for us. I need to graduate—ergo, I can’t miss class to get eaten out by my boyfriend.”
He growls, and I feel the rumble through the phone.
“First: it's our future. I don't intend to ever leave you behind. Second: don't jinx it.”
I roll my eyes. “There's nothing to jinx. You're the hottest shit in this place.”
“Damn right I am, Honeycomb.”
I laugh. “Okay, okay. Shower time. If I don’t go now, I won’t get one.”
He slurps again, obnoxiously loud. I narrow my eyes, and he just smirks, fully aware he did it to get a rise out of me.
“When are we seeing each other next? I have to go through film tonight, but I also can’t go too long without being inside you.”
“Classy. Well, we might not be able to get indecent, but I was thinking that maybe I could come watch you at your practice later.”
I throw it out there to gauge his reaction.
“Really?” Zach leans closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yeah.”
Zach’s grin grows. “You’d really want to?” The way he asks nearly breaks my heart.
It’s no secret that I’ve tried to stay in the background as much as possible when it comes to Zach’s football career. I sit out most home games or watch them from inside the marketing suite, firmly away from the student section.
It’s not Zach’s fault—it’s just… the whispers and the comments. They bring me right back to the place I was in high school, and I hate it.
“Definitely,” I say, knowing how much this means to him.
“Then I'd love to have you there.” He’s grinning wide, and I can’t help it. My heart skips a little beat. He bites his bottom lip before looking straight into the camera. “I’m going to put this out there, but I’m not averse to you wearing one of my jerseys.”