Cocky Striker - Evan Grace Page 0,2

Kylie or Kaylee is her name, I feel bad I can’t really remember what it is for sure, calls out.

“We’ll see, maybe. I’ll see you around.” I walk by and know they’re talking about me as I walk toward my apartment.

This is going to be an amazing fucking year, I can feel it.

Chapter Two

Laken

After blow drying my hair, I twist it up into a bun on top of my head. It’s too hot to have it touching my neck. Once it’s all pinned up, I head back into my bedroom and thrown on a pair of worn jean shorts—you know the ones that are so worn they’re super soft. They’re threadbare in spots and fit like the most comfortable glove.

I put on a black cami with a built-in bra because my boobs are basically non-existent. Over that I throw on my Stick Figure tank top. My dad bought it for me when he took me to see them earlier this summer. Dad’s all about that reggae life and is a concert-aholic.

I slip on my tennis shoes and grab my bag then head out into the living room where my roommate/best friend, Nicole, is doing yoga. I walk past her and slap her ass, only because it’s pointed up in the air … easy target.

“Hey,” she says from her downward facing dog position. “You should join me.”

“I would, but I want to get to the bookstore. A couple of the books I need weren't available online.”

“Have fun with that. Meet for lunch later?” She’s now on the floor on all fours.

“Yeah, just text me what time, and I’ll meet you there.” I shut the door behind me as I step out into the hall.

Instead of riding my bicycle, I decide to drive, but only because those textbooks have a tendency to be heavy, and I don’t want to break my back trying to lug them to my apartment.

Once I’m on campus, it takes me a good ten minutes to find a parking spot close enough to the bookstore. As I go to pull into the spot, a motorcycle whips past me and into my spot.

I roll down my window. “Hey, jerkwad, that was my spot.” He climbs off his bike and takes his helmet off. I don’t like the way my heart races when I get a good look at his face. He’s possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, but I quickly push that aside because motorcycle dude comes strutting over to my open window. “You took my spot.”

He looks at the spot and then back at me. “I don’t see your name on it.” His grin is one I’m sure he uses on lots of girls. Too bad his charms aren’t going to work on me.

I repeat, Kill him with kindness, over and over in my head. Maybe he’ll move if I ask nicely. I force a pleasant smile that I hope he can’t tell is a fake. “No, my name is not on it, but you see I was waiting for the girl to pull out, and as soon as she pulled out, you pulled in. I had my signal on and everything.” Frick, kill me now.

He leans against my open window, and I ignore that clean and woodsy scent wafting off of him and into my nose. “Well then, I appreciate you holding the spot for me.” He shoots me a wink, drawing my attention to his gorgeous blue eyes. “Later, beautiful.” He walks away, and it takes everything in me not to run him over with my car.

It takes me ten more minutes to find a spot, and now I’m stuck in the back forty of the lot. My anger builds as sweat begins to roll down my back. I stop just outside the bookstore and take a deep breath.

The cool air hits me as soon as I step inside, and my freaking nipples get hard immediately. I remember a time when they weren’t this large—oh well, nothing I can do about it now except shift my bag so they’re hidden.

I pull out the paper copy of my schedule and the list of books I still need. This place is so huge. By now I should be used to it, but I always manage to get lost.

I’m weaving my way through the aisles and people when I hear a high-pitched giggle. At the end of the aisle is dickhead the parking spot thief surrounded by a bleach blonde harem. He looks up at me and