Misadventures of a College Girl (Misadventures, #8)

by Lauren Rowe

So you’re saying the douchey shirt is some sort of secret code? Like, it wards off girls looking for a boyfriend?” “Something like that.” “And here I thought you thought your shirt was nothing but a simple statement of fact.” “Oh, I do. Definitely. Plus—bonus points—it’s funny as hell.” “How can your shirt be a simple statement of fact and funny as hell at the same time? You’re either serious or joking. It can’t be both.” Tyler smiles. “Sure it can.” “I don’t see how.” “If you saw an elephant wearing a T-shirt with the word elephant stamped across it, you’d think that’s pretty damned funny, right?” I can’t help smiling. Ah, so he’s more clever than I gave him credit for. “That depends.” “Aw, come on,” he says, flashing me a snarky look. “Don’t argue with me for the sake of arguing.” “I’m not. An elephant in an elephant T-shirt might be funny and it might not.” “Tell me one scenario where an elephant wearing an elephant T-shirt wouldn’t be fucking hilarious.” I slide my legs underneath me in the chair, taking care not to flash Tyler my undies as I do. I say, “Well, if the elephant was harmed or humiliated while being stuffed into his elephant T-shirt, that wouldn’t be funny. Animal cruelty is never a laughing matter, Tyler Caldwell.” Tyler chuckles. “The elephant wasn’t harmed or humiliated.” “How can you be sure? Elephants are highly intelligent creatures. It’s well known they experience complex emotions.” “I know because he’s a cartoon elephant.” Again, I can’t resist smi...

“I’ll pull my weight in this partnership. That’s a promise. You just need to be patient with me if I need to play catch-up sometimes. I typically do my reading on Sundays. That’s my only free day of the week.” “I get it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so pissy. Forgive me.” “It’s okay.” I shift in my seat, feeling stupid. “So, um…” I clear my throat. “The halo effect. It’s when people think good-looking people are smarter and cooler and funnier than everyone else, even when in reality they might be stupid or boring. Add athleticism or any kind of celebrity status into the mix, and the halo effect supposedly goes through the roof.” “You think the halo effect is real?” “I know it is. Just look at my reaction to you. I wanted to sleep with you based on looks alone, before I’d even spoken two words to you. You could have been the stupidest, most boring guy in the world, and I didn’t care simply because you’re gorgeous. Halo effect.” “Sounds like basic animal attraction to me. I wanted to have sex with you the second I saw you, too, even before I found out you’re a total weirdo.” He grins. “Was that the halo effect, too?” I open my mouth and close it. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” “At least from my experience,” Tyler continues, “the halo effect is a wash. For all the times someone thinks great things about me based on my looks or athleticism alone, someone else assumes bad stuff about me.” “Like what?” He grins wickedly. “That I’m the kind of guy who runs around calling other guys ...

Watching you play football is making this eager beaver’s beaver extremely wet. Can’t wait to see you on Monday. Get ready because I’m going to attack you.

ugh... turnoff.

“When did you first realize football is your life’s purpose?” I ask. “Oh, football isn’t my life’s purpose,” he says, shocking me. “It’s the vehicle for me to reach my higher destiny, for sure, but it’s not my life’s purpose. The same way boxing wasn’t Muhammad Ali’s life’s purpose.” “What was his life’s purpose?” “Ali was put on this earth to inspire greatness in others through displaying his own greatness. His true purpose was to use his charisma and star power to change people’s hearts and minds and make the world a better place. His purpose transcended boxing.” My lips part in surprise.

I met Tyler at that party almost eight months ago, he’s been laser-focused on this one particular day. Envisioning it. Praying about it. He’s been the first player to arrive at the gym every morning and the last one to leave it in the evening. He’s talked for hours on the phone with his dad to deconstruct every little thing he did right or wrong in every week’s game. He’s thrown himself into weight-training, running, yoga, ice baths, cryogenics, sports massages. He’s studied game films, listened to motivational audiobooks, and meditated. He’s foregone partying when all his teammates were getting shitfaced. And, of course, he’s done the most important thing of all. He’s slayed it each and every week on the playing field. If there was something big or small Tyler Caldwell could do to position himself to get selected in the top ten of this year’s draft, he’s done it. And then some. And yet, as we all know too well, nothing in life is guaranteed—especially when it comes to the business of football.