Page 33 of Big Man on Campus

Reaching up, I caress her cheek and give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” Fake it till you make it.

“If you don’t, I will. I swear,” she says, but there’s no pepper behind the shallow threat. Nothing she can do because she knows telling the truth would hurt me. I lean in to give her another maybe not so quick kiss, but Brick stops me.

“Maybe you’re unfamiliar with the rules of polite society. No kissing in public and least of all at a dinner table. Where people are eating.” As if on cue, a server shows up with the food.

Not a minute later, Phoebe shows up, coming from behind and surprising me. Fitz’s giant shit-eating grin was my first clue.

She takes the seat between me and Fitz. He smirks at me and I almost laugh, but I remain polite. He pulled it off after all—convinced Phoebe to be his date tonight.

Unfortunately, she spends a little too much time and attention on me and after two glasses of white wine, she leans in and I’m reduced to pushing her back in Fitz’s direction. I catch his eye and beg him to take control of her.

“So Kace, winning goal again. What’s your secret?”

“No secret.”

“Come on. You have lots of secrets, don’t you?” She gives me a smoldering look and I’m torn between rolling my eyes and controlling my pecker because she’s smoking hot and we had some chemistry back in the day. But I turn away and face Glory and the zap of desire hits me without fail, like it does every time I put my eyes on her.

Glory tries engaging her in conversation but after two courses of Phoebe dominating the table and leaving her out, Glory orders her first glass of wine. I don’t say a thing because truthfully, I think she deserves it for being such a trouper. The only one not feeling awkward at the table is Brick. He’s here solo, of course, because he doesn’t date. Ever.

“So, what’s with all the hubbub about the car crash?” Phoebe says. “People are so overreacting. They should know better than to believe the nasty gossip.” She looks around and I don’t pick up my beer and drain the last sip. I’ve reached my limit of two for the night. Hell. I look to Fitz to deal with her.

“You’re right,” he says. “How are your plans coming for the sorority’s postgame party?”

“I can’t wait for tomorrow’s football game,” Glory says. “I hear the opponent is tough. What do you think, Brick?”

I’m probably the only one who can tell that tension strains Glory’s bright face.

“The Scarlet Knights are tough, but we’re tougher,” he deadpans, making Glory laugh. “Which is why Romeo and I have to take off. Time for some Wildbeast sleep.”

“I get it,” Glory says, “As opposed to beauty sleep.”

He points a trigger finger at her and says, “Bingo,” as he stands. Romeo follows.

“I should leave early too. I’ll be on the field at the game too with the dance team. It’s my first time in front of such a big crowd and I’m a little nervous.”

“You’ll be great, babe,” I say. Everyone is excited for her. Except Phoebe. And Fitz doesn’t seem very excited. But he’s a perpetual worrier, so who knows what he’s thinking.

“You should come to the sorority party after the game, Glory.” I’m surprised at the invitation, then she blazes a sultry stare at me. “Of course, you can come too, Kace.”

My surprise disappears, but I don’t say anything to put a damper on Glory’s billion-dollar smile at the invitation.

“We’ll be there,” Glory says. “Sounds like the place to be. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

Shit. She thinks Phoebe is being nice to her and I know better, but I hate saying anything because I don’t want to be right about Phoebe being a bitch and I don’t want to be a downer for Glory. I need to give it a chance. Give Phoebe the benefit of the doubt and Glory a chance to win her over for real.

Chapter 7

Glory

The first home football game has my nerves jangling as I hurry to the stadium dressing room with the group of women from the dance team. I hug my bag with the hidden treasure of two vodka nips, my training wheels, tucked inside, but I swear they’re only for an emergency because I need my dance moves to be perfect, don’t I?

Mrs. Perini brings her twins, Beau and Belle, down to the field dressed like team mascots in Wildbeast shirts, tails, and headbands with ears that I gave her and faces painted the way I instructed. I talk our coach into letting them stay because the crowd loves them. I’ve painted my face to match and also wear the ears and a short tail. The other dancers want me to make some for everyone. When I show the four-year-olds some dance moves, several photographers pay attention.

A campus TV camera heads in their direction, accompanied by a woman with a mic, a reporter. As she gets closer and my fuzzy brain registers who it is, Phoebe. I’m not sure if I’m looking at a friendly face, or at someone who hates me and wants to do me harm. Shit. Instinctively, I stand in front of the children, shielding them from her.

“Don’t hide them. It’s so refreshing and novel to see little children dressed as mascots on the sidelines. But I am surprised the stadium and the university allowed you to have them here.”

I smile, gathering whatever pluck I have, looking for the bold streak in me and wishing I could down another nip right now, like Popeye with his can of spinach to give him strength.