Page 4 of Running Play (Gods of Campus #1)

Shelby

I take in the campus grounds as I briskly walk to class.

The past two weeks have flown by. It’s busier now that all the students are back, but I’m loving it.

I’ve made great friends, especially Letti and Travis, who are truly amazing.

I really did win the dorm room lottery with her.

I’m enjoying my classes and feel like I’ve got myself into a nice little routine, but most importantly, I’ve started to relax and change back into the person I once was.

The person I remember before Justin. The carefree me.

Not the ‘terrified-to-leave-my-house, watching-the-rearview-mirror-so-many-times-I-nearly-crash-into-a-parked-car’ me.

I glance at the watch my sister gave me last Christmas and cringe at the time. Shit, I’m running late, and this is not the class I want to be late for. Professor Cain is a stickler for being punctual, and insists on locking the door once class starts, to ‘encourage’ students to arrive on time.

I start into a light jog, coming around the corner of the science building, slamming straight into a wall.

“Oomph.” Nope, not a wall. My two textbooks tumble to the floor as my hands land on a hard chest. Strong hands wrap around my upper arms, stabilizing me.

A wall might have been softer. I think I just went from a B cup to an A cup, but I resist the urge to grab the girls and check.

Instead, my hands are splayed out on a blue and silver shirt, a small Raptor head above my right middle finger.

I look up into intense gray eyes, a chiseled jaw and shaggy brown hair that sticks out under a black backward cap. Holy shit.

“Hey!” he says, his eyes studying mine as his lip twitches into a crooked smile. “You okay?”

I think my heart just skipped a beat, or maybe that was my ovaries exploding, one of the two.

Let’s face it, I’m not great with jump scares lately, but that calm voice might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

His eyes still study me, raking over my face, causing my cheeks to heat.

Breathe and say something . “Umm, yeah, I’m fine. ”

Oh my God—it’s Christian Stone. The impossibly hot football player.

Letti pointed him out to me one day from across campus as one of Travis’s friends.

He was surrounded by a bunch of people but got a look at his profile.

His pecs flex beneath my palms—a quiet, deliberate reminder of where my hands still linger.

Heat rushes to my face, awareness flickering sharp and sudden.

I drop my hands instantly, taking a small step back.

“Sorry,” I murmur as he bends down, eyes on the ground, reaching for my fallen books.

“All good,” he says, slowly rising. His gaze drags up the length of me, deliberate and knowing, sending a spark through every nerve. My jaw lifts, following the path of his stare as he hands me my books, and I press out a quiet, “Thanks.”

I manage to steady my nerves and take in the two attractive guys standing alongside him.

Randy Harrison—the football team’s golden-haired quarterback.

He’s got the perfect Calvin Klein face and a grin as sharp as it is cheeky.

Tanned and flawless, his skin pops against the crisp white of his Henley, warm brown eyes brimming with an effortless, playful energy.

A stark contrast to Seth Cash. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, and the largest of the three.

Ink curls over his arms like armor, a warning more than an adornment.

Dressed mostly in black, sharp edges and raw presence makes him the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome.

He barely looks up, tapping at his phone like he couldn’t be more bored with this situation.

Could they be any taller or hotter?

All over six foot, especially the tattooed one, six five, maybe.

Intimidating as hell, and even after a few weeks here, I know them from the football team.

I’ve heard them talked about many times and have noticed them around campus.

It’s hard not to, the crowds always seem to part for them like Moses splitting the Red Sea.

I’m not sure if my plane across the Pacific went through the twilight zone on the way over, but all the guys here are so different than the boys at my high school .

“Sorry again,” I say, stepping in-between him and his smiling friend, the proximity of their bodies so close to mine, so large, strong, and confident.

Grazing their shoulders, I squeeze between them.

I can feel the heat radiating off them as I quickly make my escape.

How do women concentrate in their classes with them?

“Bye, gorgeous,” I hear him call after me.

I muster up some courage, turn, and wave goodbye with a smile. Not the scariest situation I’ve been in, but these days my nerves are shot.