Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Daisy pats my hand. “I say this with love, but you need to live a little. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There will be other math competitions over the next four years, but when will we ever be staying in the same hotel as a bunch of hot athletes? It’s a rare gift from the gods of horndoggery and we should seize the opportunity.”
I can’t help giggling. I’ve never met anyone like Daisy Brenner. She’s certainly nothing like my straitlaced friends back home in Ohio. “Well, it might be a rare gift from the gods of horndoggery for you, but I’ve traveled with my father and his team, and my two brothers and their teams, for as long as I can remember, so staying in the same hotel as a bunch of football players is nothing new to me.”
Daisy flashes me a naughty look. “But have you stayed in a hotel with a bunch of football players when you’re away at college and your daddy and brothers aren’t around to watch you and all those football players like a hawk?”
I can’t help but return her playful smirk. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“For the first time ever, you’re surrounded by a bunch of hot football players and you’re not the head coach’s daughter to them. Think about that.”
She’s making some sense, actually.
“To them,” she adds, “you’re just some random hot girl on a computer who hasn’t paid any of them a lick of attention, even though they’re all trying to catch your eye.”
“They are not.”
“Yes, they are. Several of them have been scoping you out this whole time, and you haven’t even noticed.”
“If they’re looking over here, they’re looking at you, Daisy.”
“Some are, for sure. But others are into you. And I can most definitely tell which are which. Come on, Chelsea. Look around for a minute and pick one you like, and I’ll go over there and play matchmaker for you.”
I gasp. “Oh my God, Daisy. Absolutely not.”
She laughs. “Are you sure?”
“If I promise to try to ‘live a little’ when we get back to school, will you drop this? Right now, we need to be laser-focused on advancing today and taking home the trophy tomorrow.”
Daisy huffs out a dramatic sigh. “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
We both return to our computers, and for a quiet, blessed moment, I think Daisy’s finally moved on.
“It tracks that they’re Cornhuskers,” she says, out of the blue. “Since they all look so damned corn-fed. Oooh, look at that stupidly hot one that just came in! Yummy.”
Football players are a dime a dozen to me, no matter what they look like. But I can’t deny I’m curious what my new friend’s idea of “stupidly hot” might be, especially if she’s planning to play matchmaker for me when we get back to school; so I take a quick peek against my better judgment. And that’s when I see the most stupidly hot, gorgeous body I’ve ever seen. He’s got his head turned when I look over there, as he talks animatedly to one of his teammates, but even so, I can tell that he’s extremely tall and muscular, with dark, thick hair and NEBRASKA emblazoned across his broad, impressive chest.
“Yep. He’s pretty hot,” I concede, returning to my computer.
“You didn’t wait for him to turn his head. His face is gorgeous.”
But she’s already lost me. After seeing that boy’s insane body, I’m already searching the internet for Nebraska’s roster so I can confirm whether he’s a linebacker or a tight end. With a body like that, he’s one or the other, for sure, and I’m dying to find out which.
Before I get to the roster, I peek at the Cornhuskers’ schedule and quickly confirm they’re playing the Hoosiers today. “I was right,” I murmur. “Indiana is playing—”
“He’s looking over here!” Daisy blurts. “At you!”
“Who?”
“The crazy-hot one! He’s looking right at you!”
“Liar.”
Certain she’s just teasing me, I look up and instantly lock eyes with the hottie in the buffet line. Without missing a beat, he shoots me a wide, dimpled smile when our gazes meet. One that sends heat flashing into my cheeks and makes me look down.
“He’s so scorching hot, he physically sears my corneas,” Daisy whispers.
He’d sear mine, too, if only he didn’t so strongly resemble a certain enemy of my people. The devil incarnate. Roman Maguire. The former Michigan quarterback every Ohio State loyalist hates with the passion of a thousand suns, thanks to the way he decimated my father’s team in two consecutive seasons several years ago on his way to back-to-back national championships and the Heisman Trophy.
Feeling deeply flustered, I quickly click into the Cornhuskers’ roster to find him. When I do, I discover the dimpled Roman Maguire doppelganger in the buffet line doesn’t coincidentally look like the Prince of Darkness. He’s the devil’s kin. Roman’s younger brother, Luca Maguire. Number Ninety-Five. A guy who plays my all-time favorite position. Outside linebacker. Even worse, he’s an edge rusher.