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So, yeah. I’m still a card-carrying member of Virgins-R-Us, but not for long. Tonight I’m having sex, universe be damned.
The truth is, there are two kinds of redheads. The ones who hate the fiery temper stereotype, and those who perpetuate it. Guess which one I am?
Quinntessential disaster. Calamity Quinn. Quinntastrophe. The childhood nicknames aren’t exactly far off the mark and whisper in my ear like a backstabbing frenemy.
Lots of people throw shade at jersey chasers, but not me. I’m all about sexually empowered women getting theirs.
He’s like a young Chris Hemsworth, with muscles for days, a chiseled jaw, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve ever seen.
He may be the big man on campus, and I may be a quintessential disaster, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let Cooper DeLaurentis—or any man—push me around.
Time to get lit. Because as much fun as I had sparring with Quinn, she’s Noah’s little sister. Even if she wasn’t, I’m not about to break the virgin rule. Not again.
As my brother has reminded me eleventy billion times, I’m a weirdo. Which is why I’m definitely not admitting my not-so-secret love of Star Wars.
I’m a PoliSci major, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I give up football to work in Washington with my father.
But that was last year. This year I’m going to kick my bad luck—and my virginity—to the curb.
“Girl, I don’t know why you’re afraid to put your own name on the byline. This is pure gold.” Haley levels her gaze at me, but I look away. Because apparently, I’m a coward. Who writes under a pseudonym. “You should be proud of yourself.”
Me: Girls who quote Star Wars are always hot.
God, I wish it was that easy. But after the disaster at Sig Chi, I’m not sure I’ve got the lady balls to make the first move again.
You’ve got plenty of luck, Quinntastrophe. It’s just all bad. Aaaand... now Noah’s in my head too.
“I won’t bite.” Unless you want me to. The words are unspoken, but they’re definitely implied. A ripple of desire spreads from my belly, heating my flesh. The prospect of Cooper DeLaurentis nibbling on my body doesn’t sound half bad. Actually, it sounds pretty freaking good right now.
striving for nonchalance even though I’m low-key freaking out because Cooper-I-have-enough-big-dick-energy-for-the-entire-Waverly-football-team-DeLaurentis was in my bedroom.
“Or maybe he’s a super-hot nice guy.” She grins. “Which, as you know, is basically a unicorn on this campus.” She’s not wrong. Except… Cooper might actually be a unicorn.
“But, hey, if all else fails, maybe Frat Boy Yoda can be my Operation Ditch Virginity backup plan.”
Three weeks. Three weeks into the season and already my father’s influence is seeping in like poison, tainting everything it touches.
With any luck, I’ll be drafted to a west coast team, beyond my father’s reach. Once I have that NFL contract in hand, I won’t hesitate to sever ties with that piece of shit. I just hope my mom has the courage to do the same.
Cooper might be an arrogant jockhole, but he’s got a killer jawline.
And I never imagined it would be Cooper DeLaurentis who saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself, let alone help bring it to the surface.
Homework and hangovers are not a thing, and don’t ever let anyone tell you different.
“You were hanging out with Cooper DeLaurentis again?” Haley sighs, a wistful look on her face. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? There’s no shortage of women who’d give their left ovary for a night in his bed.”
It’s time to take control of my life and stop letting fate decide my path.
“Would you like that?” She nods, her clear green eyes locked on mine. It’s not enough. Consent matters, especially when you’re a high-profile athlete.
His word isn’t worth shit. He doesn’t keep campaign promises, so why would he keep a promise to his family?
Though it’s mid-October, his skin still has the golden-brown hue of a summer tan, something I haven’t experienced a day in my life. I can’t leave the house without SPF 50 or I burn to a crisp.
Despite Coop’s reputation, he’s not the obnoxious player he pretends to be. Under all the swagger and sarcasm, he’s got a big heart. One he clearly feels the need to hide behind that infuriating smirk.
I’ll have to work on that. I’ve never been friends with a woman before, but I’m pretty sure there’s a rule that prohibits hard-ons.
Until this moment, I’ve never had a thing for the Asgardian God of Thunder, but I’m currently rethinking my position because Cooper makes those leather pants look damn good.
“When you crave release, you come to me. No one else. I’ll give you what you need.”
All Cooper wants is what every child should have; unconditional love.
Her words land like a punch to the gut. Because despite everything that happened in the hall, despite the fact that I walked away without so much as saying goodbye, she still showed up.
“What’s done is done. Cooper needs to come to terms with his issues because no one else can do it for him.”
“I may be a work in progress, but I will not chase after a guy who doesn’t think I’m worth the effort.”
Haley sighs. “I take back everything I said about him. I hope he gets his head out of his ass and comes crawling back so you can have incredible makeup sex and tell me all about it.” I huff out a laugh, because as ridiculous as it sounds, I hope so, too.
Reid using my full name is the team captain equivalent of a mom using your middle name.
“Look,” Reid continues, “you can spend your life punishing yourself for your father’s mistakes or you can take your shot and make your own damn mistakes.”
My stomach rolls, and this time it’s not from alcohol. “I think I made a mistake.” “Oh, you definitely made a mistake.” Reid chuckles. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?” “I have no idea.”
You call yourself a disaster, but to me, you’ll always be a miracle. My smart, beautiful, chaotic miracle. You showed me what it is to love unconditionally, and despite all my faults, you chose me.
If someone had told me three months ago that Cooper-the-cockblocking-jockhole-DeLaurentis would fall in love with me, I’d have called them a damn liar.
I could live a thousand lifetimes and I’d want to spend every single one of them catching Quinn.
I’ve never wanted anything—including a future in the NFL—as much as I want Quinn to be my wife.
