The Enforcer (Lakeside University #1)

by Avery Keelan

“For you?” I flash her a cocky grin. “Anything.”

Nash tilts his head. “I have to ask. Why’d you come up to me?”

“What do you mean?” “This party is packed with guys.”

“Are you fishing, Nash?”

“Maybe a little. But when the hottest girl at the party comes up to you, it’s a fair question.”

“Well, you’re one of the biggest guys here.” “Ah.” Ticking off a second finger, I add, “I had a hunch you weren’t a creep.”

“And I thought you were cute. Win-win.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a win for me.”

This is no sloppy high school kiss. This is everything.

“We’ve been drinking,” Nash says against my lips, kissing me softly again. “I like you, Vi, and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

our Head Coach, former professional centerman, Dallas Ward,

Am I supposed to be doing reference checks at the door to my bedroom?

The only thing worse than having a ‘one that got away’ is knowing you’re the one who pushed her to leave.

“I know it’s an unfamiliar concept to you, but not everything is about sex.” Connor pretends to think. “Nah, that sounds like a myth. Like Narnia.”

I have very few regrets in life, and all of them involve her.

She’s off-limits, and I’ll make that crystal fucking clear by any means necessary.

“Violet hates me.”

Well… I moved on. There was more looking back than I care to admit.

"Long story short, we dated for almost all of freshman year. Rumor has it, he turned into a complete fuckboy after that. I guess I broke him."

Like the email states, the two of us have some of the highest GPAs in the program. Top ten, if not top five. Still, it feels a little like Jules and I are being punished for that by having our ranked choices completely ignored.

It's a lie. There's a huge problem. Seventy-six inches of problem. Two hundred and twenty sculpted pounds of problem. A four-letter problem. Nash.

Our first kiss, first time, first fight. He was my first everything. First heartbreak, too. I grit my teeth, shoving down the thoughts.

“Hey.” His voice is flat, expression to match. He seems wholly unimpressed with being stuck together; wholly unimpressed with me in general, like I have zero effect on him whatsoever.

Worry ghosts through my mind, even though he’s not mine to worry about anymore.

Seeing her is even more difficult than I expected. It’s not just awkward; it’s torture. Same big blue eyes and cupid’s bow lips, but the person beneath them is a stranger.

Can we call a truce? Be friends, maybe?” Friends? That’s cute. “You and I both know we can’t be friends.” Violet plants her fists on her hips, tilting her head defiantly. “Why not?” “Why do you think?”

“Are you seriously trying to play the victim? After everything you did?”

While I wasn’t exactly a model boyfriend near the end, it doesn’t change the fact that Violet jumped right into someone else’s bed the moment we broke up. After seven months together, she moved on in the span of a weekend. Who knows, maybe it was even sooner. Given the timing, I’m not convinced there wasn’t some overlap.

“Can’t have hurt too bad considering how quickly you found someone else. How is Jay these days, anyway?” Violet stiffens, indignation stretching across her pretty face. “Were you keeping tabs on me or something?” Obviously. It’s like she doesn’...

Part of me still wants her, even though I’m pissed.

“He asked me out, and I was single. Is that some sort of crime, now?” “You were single for all of two seconds.” “Not that I have to explain myself to you, but that was a rebound. It didn’t mean anything.”

Maybe not to Violet, but it sure spoke volumes to me.

“You ditched out on Easter dinner with my family.”

Instead of going with Violet to meet her parents and sister, like I was supposed to, I may have taken a boys’ trip with a bunch of guys from the team at the last minute. Can’t deny that I handled it badly, even if I had my reasons.

Otherwise, I would tell him to shove his phone plan up his ass.

His full name is probably Preston Vanderbilt the Third or some shit.

Beneath that deceptively innocent exterior, those big doe eyes and tight little body, Violet is a dirty talking goddess. She’s also kinky. I’m talking, we-had-a-safe word, kind of kinky.

“Listen, fuckers.” All eyes in the room fall to me. “All any of you need to know is that Violet is one hundred percent out-of-bounds. If any of you even think about touching her, it’ll be a career-ending move. Because I will end you. Immediately.”

All I want to do is go back to my apartment, cocoon myself inside a cozy blanket, and watch Love Island while eating a pint of cookie dough ice cream. Maybe have a bonfire with all those law of attraction books while I'm at it.

I want those goddamn butterflies—and only Mr. Wrong has ever given them to me.

I can’t believe I fucked things up with her. I am such an idiot.

But broken people break things, and I leave behind a path of destruction in my wake.

“Because I need you, and you know it.”

Pink tape? No. Hell no. “I’m gonna need black,” I call over. “Or blue. Red. Green. Maybe purple in a pinch. Anything but that.” While beggars can’t be choosers, I do have some degree of pride, and Barbie pink isn’t going to fly. “Seriously?” Violet gestures with the KT roll in exasperation. “It’s tape, you overgrown man-child.”

“Taping this is like putting a band-aid on a bullet hole,” she murmurs.

Violet watching from the stands at every single home game, sitting with the other team girlfriends. Coming out after to find her wearing my jersey, looking fucking adorable. The way she knew not to push me when I was grouchy after a loss. The time I was so sick with the flu I missed three practices in a row. My roommate peaced out like I had the plague, but Violet wasn’t afraid of catching it. She took care of me without a single complaint, staying with me for two days in my cramped dorm room while forcing me to drink liquids and take Advil at regular intervals. Then she got sick right after me, and I did the same thing for her.

Being with her was great…and it was terrifying. The more Violet and I bonded, the more I freaked out inside. The closer we got, the more I started to pull back. Prioritizing her less and putting my friends first. Going out with them instead of staying in with her. Getting way too drunk, way too often. I never cheated, never crossed a line with anyone else or even wanted to, but toward the end, I was a shitty boyfriend.

And while Candice isn’t in the same league as Violet, she’s still hot.

It’s hard to forget the fact that our bedroom activities were anything but vanilla. It was Baskin Robbins and the thirty-one flavors of fucking. She’s almost as deviant as I am. Almost.

Violet is cockblocking me when she’s not even within sight.