Chapter 1 - Meghan

 I don’t even know why I bother trying to study anywhere but in my dorm room.

A girl’s gotta eat, though, right? And the student union cafe has the best coffee and croissants in all of campus town. It’s a good thing, too. It almost makes the obnoxious hoots and barks from half of the Bamford-Pine University football team—go Bobcats—echoing off the cafeteria walls bearable.

Almost.

“Brewer. Go long.” I hear one of them shout a split second before a football narrowly misses, smashing into my face as a pair of hands appear before my eyes to catch it.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play ball in the house?” I say, trying my hardest to keep calm, snapping my eyes back to my laptop screen to at least pretend like I’m busy scrolling through my inbox.

If I know nothing else about tight end, Trent Brewer, I know he loves to get a rise out of anyone and everyone. It doesn’t matter who you are. If he knows you or not. He gets off on frustrating the shit out of people, making them yell and throw a fit while he stands back and smiles that perfect dimpled smile of his.

That’s the other thing I know about him, that everyone knows about Trent Brewer. He’s as annoying as he is hot. It’s probably why he gets away with the shit he does. How could he not with that smile? Those eyes?

“Guess I ignored that lesson,” he says, flashing that very smile I hate to love that brings out the green in his hazel eyes.

Ugh! It’s utterly infuriating. If I could I’d smack that sexy grin clean off his smug face.

Since physical violence isn’t an option, I choose to ignore him and hope he goes away.

Then, an interesting email pops up in my inbox and it’s my turn to sport a smug grin. “Seems you’re still ignoring important lessons.” I point to the email with his name on it from the office account of the tutoring service I work for.

Trent leans in to read the email that tells me I’ve been assigned to help him with his statistics class. When he finishes reading, he turns his eyes to mine and says with a heavy amount of innuendo in his voice, “Does this mean I can call you Teach?”

Even as I can, I answer him, but a fair amount of snark still seeps through, “Only if I can put you in a dunce cap and set you in the corner when you’ve been bad.” Which I assume will be quite often.

I should ask for a raise, getting stuck tutoring this guy.

Leaning in a little more, until our noses almost touch, his cinnamon breath hot on my lips sends a wave of heat up my spine. “I prefer the paddle.”

A wicked smile curls his lips as he walks backward to join his teammates, leaving me slack-jawed and squirming in my seat.

I want to smack him. Scream at him. Rip his head off for saying something so impertinent. But I can’t because my stupid body wants something else. Something I’ve spent the last three years denying it.

Not letting myself get into a relationship was a good plan to keep me on track with my studies, but celibacy most definitely was not.

Maybe, if I’d gotten laid from time to time, I wouldn’t be sitting here, staring at Trent’s tight ass as he joins his teammates, heading for the exit.

He doesn’t just have a nice ass. He is an ass. Never forgetting that will be my saving grace.

I’m sure of it. Until he turns and tosses me a wink.

All I’m sure of now is that this guy’s gonna be bad for business.