Page 18 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

Morgan

I ’ve never really understood team sports or why getting drunk is a requirement to enjoy them. My friends aren’t an exception. The sound of glasses clinking rings through the apartment as Nathan, Chelsea, and Karis take their third shot of tequila in the kitchen.

I wasn’t expecting to have a full house this morning, but James conspired with our friends to organize this . They call it pregaming; I’m not sure what I call it yet.

Evelyn and Chelsea showed up first, with champagne and a spread of pastries. I can at least respect their attempt to disguise day drinking as brunch. It was Nathan and Karis who brought the liquor .

I, for one, have no desire to get drunk at 10 a.m., and I think James feels the same. She has spent the morning joking and laughing with her “girls,” but she’s had the same can of hard seltzer in her hand since they got here.

Evelyn sips on a mimosa from her spot on the couch next to me.

She’s too close for comfort; her leg is pressed up against mine, and she keeps trying to catch my gaze from under thick false lashes.

I’ve made small talk with her but don’t let the conversation go any deeper than that.

I don’t want to lead her on. She seems like a nice girl, and she’s cute, too, but I’m not looking to start a relationship or a fling.

Even if I were, only one woman in this apartment draws my attention to her like a moth to a flame, and she is wholly and unequivocally unavailable.

I swirl the now-warm beer around in the bottle without taking a sip.

It’s all I can do to keep my eyes from drifting over to my roommate.

She’s all dressed up in a red dress and heels, and her hair has been meticulously curled into long blond waves.

Apparently, there is an unofficial dress code for games.

She filled me in on it all this morning: you either dress up like you are going out or wear jerseys, no in between.

James and her friends fall in the first category.

I don’t get it. Wearing heels to go stand on concrete steps for the next three to five hours seems like the opposite of a good time, but even Nathan is dressed up more than normal, wearing khaki shorts and a polo.

A siren’s song of laughter spills out from the kitchen, and I’m unable to resist its pull. My eyes snap over to my roommate, and she catches my gaze with a soft smile.

“All right, finish your drinks. It’s time to go,” she says loud enough to get everyone’s attention. She doesn’t follow her own instructions. Instead, she moves over to the sink to pour her drink out, and I follow suit, moving up behind her to dump mine as well.

“Not your thing?” I ask. She jumps at the sound of my voice and stumbles back against my chest. My empty hand grips her bare shoulder on instinct to help steady her .

“I love football,” she says, leaning into my touch instead of pulling away. Warmth grows in my chest at the unexpected move. “I also like to go out with the girls. I just don’t feel the need to mix the two.”

“I can understand that. I don’t know much about football, but I’m not a fan of drinking this early.”

“I’ll make you a football lover, trust me. It’s impossible to go to a UGA game and not come out a fan for life.”

“That’s a pretty serious claim, but I trust you.”

She beams at me and rounds up the rest of the less sober crowd.

They follow her out the door and down the street like little drunk ducklings.

Campus is the most crowded I’ve seen it; the streets are packed with fans adorned in red and black, and every lot is full of people camped out around the trunks of their cars with TVs, grills, and lawn chairs.

James marches down the street, smiling as bright as I’ve seen her as she takes in the charged atmosphere around the stadium.

She’s in heaven. Every so often, she glances back at me and smiles a bit brighter when she meets my stare.

I can’t help but smile back, her enthusiasm infectious.

Nathan and James push ahead of the group to find us a spot in the student section. It’s crowded enough that we have to split into two rows. I squeeze in between Karis and James, while the other three stand on the row behind us.

“Evelyn, switch with me,” James commands and all but shoves her into the space at my side before moving to stand behind me.

“Hi.” Evelyn blushes and glances at her feet.

My face starts to fall, but I mask my disappointment. She isn’t the woman I was hoping to spend the day with.

“Hey.” My fingers run through my hair. “Are you excited for the game?” I ask. It’s better than standing around in awkward silence.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Football is Jamie’s thing. I only come along to hang out with her and Chelsea.”

“What is your thing, then? ”

“I don’t know. I just go along with what they want to do.”

“Well, what do you do when it’s just you?”

“I guess I like to volunteer.” She brushes a lock of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear and bites her lip. “What’s your thing?”

I don’t get a chance to respond. On a cue that I miss, a hush falls across the crowd, and everyone turns and points to the southwest corner of the stadium. I look around at the rest of my group and see they clearly know what’s going on.

“Just point,” James whispers in my ear, her unexpected nearness causing a wave of chills to move across my body. I turn my head enough to get a glimpse of her nearly bouncing on the stands with excitement. Indulging her, I point, and her excitement only grows.

The silence is cut by the sound of a lone trumpeter playing the opening bars of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The rest of the marching band joins in, and the song is overlaid by a man giving a speech while a montage plays on the scoreboard’s large screen.

The song and video come to an end, and the crowd goes wild, and despite not knowing what exactly just happened, I go crazy with them.

The band continues to play through their pregame routine, and the crowd only grows more rowdy.

“That’s my favorite part. No other tradition compares. Not here, and not at any other school.” Her breath caresses my ear with the rasped words.

“That was something else.” I can’t say why, but the experience has my heart pounding in my chest and my skin covered in chills. I can see why she loves this so much; I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected to a crowd.

The game kicks off, and everyone’s attention is drawn to the field—even mine, despite not understanding what exactly is happening.

James spends the whole game leaning over and talking in my ear as she explains each play, who all of the players are, and what terms like flag and first down mean.

She is so patient with all my questions and lack of understanding.

At some point around halftime, Evelyn gives up on trying to make small talk with me, and James takes her place at my side to continue her play-by-play of the game .

I think she was right about making me love football. It would be impossible not to fall in love with anything she is this passionate about.

“As long as the other team doesn’t score in the next three minutes, we win. But they have possession,” she explains as we switch to defense.

The minutes tick by, agonizingly slow, and the other team moves closer and closer to the end zone.

With each play, and each time our defense fails to stop the opposing team’s drive down the field, she grows more tense.

As the game enters its final minute with the other team still in possession of the ball, she grabs my hand in a death grip.

We both watch the field, completely invested in the game.

The opposing team’s quarterback pulls back his arm and throws the ball to his teammate waiting in the end zone.

She sucks in a sharp breath and squeezes my hand even tighter.

The throw looks good as it spirals through the air in a perfect path toward its intended target.

Right before he can catch it, though, one of our players materializes out of nowhere and intercepts the ball.

A bright squeal of excitement cuts through the roar of the crowd as James launches herself at me.

Her arms fly around my neck, and I catch her on instinct.

I don’t quite know how to react, but her joy is contagious, so I pull her closer and spin her around.

Laughter spills past her plush lips, and she holds on even tighter.

The subtle scent of her vanilla perfume blossoms in the air as her hair fans out in a golden wave.

Reluctantly, I place her feet back on the ground and let her go.

She tightens her embrace for a second longer, burying her face into my chest. When she looks back up at me and finally lets go, her cheeks are stained red, but her face is still radiating joy.

I’ve always thought James was beautiful, but I don’t think she’s ever looked as beautiful as she does now—carefree and smiling, with her guard completely down.

The world around us freezes as I get lost in her mossy eyes.

In this moment, all that matters is the smile on her face and the light in her green gaze.

“Hey, Morgan, we are going downtown to celebrate. Wanna come?” Nathan claps me on the shoulder while keeping one arm firmly around his girlfriend’s waist. The abrupt words break whatever spell James has me under.

Evelyn glances toward me with clear hope in her eyes, but my attention strays back to the enchantress who has me at her mercy.

I’ll do whatever she wants to do. He reads my face and rolls his eyes but turns to her as well.

“What about you, James?”

“I think I’m gonna pass. I’ve got a paper due on Monday that I haven’t done nearly enough work for, so I’m gonna call it a night.”

“I think I’m going to call it a night too,” I tell my friend, and a twinge of guilt sparks in my chest as Evelyn’s face falls. It’s not enough for me to change my answer, though. “Mind if I walk back with you?”

She smiles at me even brighter than before. “Not at all. I guess we will see y’all Monday.”

James motions for me to follow her, but my friend puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me. He pulls me away from the group, leaving even Chelsea behind.

“Dude, you know she’s not available, right?” he asks, his tone more serious than I’ve ever heard before.

“I know. It’s not like that. We are barely even friends.”

“You sure as hell don’t look at her like a friend, and y’all definitely seemed more than friendly earlier.” He casts a disapproving look in my direction.

“I swear, just friends. I know she has a boyfriend, and I’m not going to get in the way of that. But she’s actually pretty cool once you get past the spiky shell.”

“Whatever you say, man. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.” He waves me off and moves to wrap Chelsea under his arm again. With a quick wave, I hustle back over to James and fall in step at her side.

“Do you really have a paper?” I ask once we’re out of the chaos.

“Yes, but it’s mostly finished,” she replies with a playful smirk. “I could use a night in, though.” Her face twists in pain, and she reaches down toward her feet. “Goddamnit. I always hate this part. I put on the heels and think I look cute, but my feet are dead by the time I have to walk back. ”

She pulls off her shoes, exposing her blistered feet. Groaning, she starts to walk again, wincing with each barefooted step.

“Wait. Let me give you a ride back.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can think them through, but I can’t let her walk back barefoot and in pain. Crouching to her level, I command, “Get on my back. Your chariot awaits, Queen James.”

She looks at me oddly for a second before jumping up, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

Her head drops to rest on my shoulder, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of everywhere her body touches mine.

The whole way back, I’m focused on the heat radiating off her body and the way she clings to my chest. I swear it’s the longest twenty-minute walk of my life.

We get odd looks from strangers as we pass, but it’s worth it to hear her laughter that rings out the entirety of the trip.

“You go change. I’ll take Grover out, and then we can watch something if you want.” I put her down at the front door and fish the key out of my pocket.

“That sounds great.” She beams up at me, and I try to shake off the sinking feeling that Nathan may be right.