Page 11 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

ELIZABETH

To say that I’m nervous is the understatement of the decade.

I’m about to walk into a den of lions.

I mean, jocks.

That’s gotta be worse than lions, right?

Why the hell did I agree to this? I was second-guessing myself the entire way in the Uber. I should have just walked, to be honest; it’s not that far, and I do love to get out in the fresh air, even when it’s cold. The sting of winter on my face is always so invigorating.

If I’d known it was so close, I wouldn’t have caught an Uber so soon. Now I’m stupidly early.

Closing the car door, I wave goodbye to the driver and hover on the sidewalk.

Do I go in now?

Or maybe I should walk the block a couple of times first.

Or maybe?—

“Satch! You made it!” I glance up and spot Wily waving at me from a window on the second floor. He has a towel draped around his neck. His smile is wide, his blond hair wet and mussed. “I thought we were meeting at four?”

“Oh, yeah, I…” I point to my wrist, then shake my head. “I didn’t realize Football Frat was so close to campus.”

“Right on its doorstep.” He grins and flicks his hand at me. “Come on up.”

I point toward the front door. “So, you just want me to…”

“Yeah, let yourself in.” His head disappears back inside, and I release a shaky breath.

“You can do this,” I murmur under my breath, my legs practically shaking as I walk up the front steps and imagine what awaits me inside.

I bet a bunch of super-cool, super-hot football players are lounging around in there, all relaxed and completely unaware of how intimidating they all are.

I’m gonna be the injured gazelle struggling to keep up with the herd, and every head in this pride of footballers will snap my way as soon as I walk through the front door.

Then they’ll all be thinking about how fast they can devour me.

Would you stop, please? They’re not going to eat you.

And Wily’s nice. You don’t have anything to worry about.

The thought calms me a little, but I’m still not convinced and lose the courage to “let myself in.” Instead, I knock once and nearly flinch when the door opens immediately and a tall Black man gazes down at me.

I take a quick step back and blink up at him.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deep and rumbly.

Oh shit, this is terrifying .

Tugging on the edges of my skirt, I swallow and try to smile up at him. “I’m looking for Wily Wilson?” My voice comes out as a soft squeak, and I hate that I’m not more confident.

But this one looks mean.

His face is so serious and he’s really tall , and I can see his huge biceps and pecs. The fitted T-shirt he’s wearing hides nothing, and?—

“Hey, Ty, is that my tutor girl?” Wily calls down the stairs.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” the man replies over his shoulder, looking me over. “A shorty with cute brown hair and big hazel eyes?”

“That’s the one. Send her up.”

I blink. No one has ever referred to me that way before.

Cute?

I’m not cute.

People never call me that.

I flush, not sure where to look as he steps aside to let me pass.

Keeping my eyes to the floor, I try not to breathe as I shuffle through the front door and make a beeline for the stairs.

“Second door on your right,” Ty’s voice rumbles behind me as I trip on the first step. “You okay?”

“Yep, I’m good. Thank you.” My cheeks flame and I pick up my pace, scrambling up the stairs and only tripping again on the second-to-top one.

Holy crap! I must look like such a moron!

But when I glance back down, Ty isn’t standing there watching me, frowning at me or laughing. He’s just gone .

I blink, unused to this kind of behavior.

What is this strange place?

I figured I’d be swamped with curious gazes and sneering looks, snide comments and intimidating glares, but… the house seems quiet, calm almost.

A door opens across the hall from me, and I turn with a gasp, blinking when a guy with dirty blond hair strolls out of the bathroom, a towel slung over his shoulder.

He’s shirtless and looks like the embodiment of Adonis.

I can see every curve and ridge of his torso.

He’s just skin and muscle, and the towel wrapped around his waist is hanging so low I can see the top of that triangle thing that leads down to his?—

Oh my gosh, would you look away already!

But I can’t.

I’ve never seen anything like him before!

He jerks to a stop, giving me a curious frown, his eyes narrowing like he recognizes me or something. And then he starts walking right toward me.

Why? Why is he approaching?

I tense.

Does he know me? What’s he about to say? What’s he about to do!

I scramble to speak before he can tease or touch me.

“Wily’s room?” I squeak.

His lips twitch when he stops, eyeing me up one more time before pointing over my shoulder.

Whipping around, I spot the two doors and immediately notice a big sign on the left one.

King Wily. Ruler of the northern realm. Curtsy upon entry.

“King Wily?” I whisper under my breath .

A soft snicker makes me flinch, the guy mumbling, “He was playing princesses with Zoey yesterday. You don’t have to curtsy.”

“Oh, o-okay. Thank you.” I try to smile, my palms sweating as I grip my laptop bag and inch toward the door.

It’s kind of cute that Wily plays with that little girl. That should help me relax. He’s great with kids. That’s the sign of a good, safe, nonthreatening person, right?

At least it should be.

I tentatively approach the door. Reading the sign one more time, my smile grows as I remind myself that mean, horrible jocks don’t play princesses with their not-technically goddaughters.

Raising my hand, I go to knock, but the door opens and a plume of delicious-smelling deodorant hits my nostrils before my eyes take in what can only be described as… gloriousness.

Another shirtless man assaults my senses, but this one is bigger, broader, more mouthwatering somehow.

Wily is standing in his doorway in nothing but a pair of sweats.

His chest is sculpted porcelain beauty. I can see the definition of his muscly torso, branching out into two solid arms that are all power.

Glimpsing the crop of hair under his armpit, I then can’t stop myself from tracking down the rest of his body to that sexy triangle that disappears into his low-lying waistband.

Seriously, another one?

This day is gonna kill me.

Pull yourself together, girl! They’re just bodies.

Yeah, but this one is way hotter than the last guy, and he was Adonis !

I don’t even know who to compare Wily to. Hercules, maybe? Thor? He is blond. Grow those locks down to his shoulders and yep, he’s Thor.

“Come in.” He walks into the room, and I’m introduced to his back muscles, which are just as impressive as the front ones. He’s so long and broad and?—

Stop looking!

I turn away, taking in his room while he talks to me.

It’s a bit of a mess, clothes strewn all over the place, shoes haphazardly dumped on the floor. Empty water bottles litter the area around his trash can, and there’s a damp towel bunched at the end of his king-sized bed. Which is unmade.

I sniff the air again, the dissipating deodorant making way for the underlying man smell. It’s ripe and real, wafting up my nostrils when I get too close to his stinky laundry hamper.

Okay, then.

Biting my lips together, I pick my way through the chaos and come to an awkward stop by his desk, which is covered in books, papers, protein bar wrappers, and empty Gatorade bottles.

I’m guessing he doesn’t use it very often.

Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the large TV and PlayStation console, noticing the cacophony of remotes and wires.

Oh boy.

Looking back at his desk, I move forward and collect the trash, clearing off the space.

Yeah, this desk is a poor, forgotten feature in this room. I can’t imagine it gets a lot of lovin’.

Time to change that .

With a determined nod, I pull out his desk chair only to find his laptop sitting on it.

“Sorry about the mess.” Wily clears the rest of the desk and helps me set up for our first official study session.

By the time I take a seat, my frazzled nerves are starting to settle as I get my head in the right space and figure out the best way to help this Nordic god smiling down at me.

It helps that he’s now wearing a shirt.

I can do this.

My heart may be racing every time my eyes skim any part of his body, but I’m a sensible woman. I can handle my attraction because I am not interested, nor will I ever be interested, in falling for some jock.

Even if he does look like Thor and smell like pure addiction.