Spin The Bottle: A college romance (Campus Games Book 2)
Spin The Bottle: A college romance: Chapter 2

Aiden

There’s nothing I miss about Texas. It’s always way too hot, too many bugs, and, oh yeah, my family lives there.

For eighteen years, I’ve wanted to escape that hellhole, and now that I have, nothing in my body misses home. I hated it there.

But here? I’m a completely different person. I’m someone. Even though I know who I really am, these people don’t. The girls looking at me right now? All they see are my good looks and skills on the court. They don’t see beyond the image I’ve tried so hard to keep. I fucking love it.

I lift my chin at the group of girls walking past me, the redhead in the mix keeping her eyes on me until she leaves the room.

Jordan nudges me on the arm, bringing my attention back to the assignment in my hands. “Can you talk to Grayson about it?” he asks.

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” I tell him, stuffing the paper in my pocket.

He stops in his tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I shrug, opening the door. “It’s business class. It’s not hard.” Grayson’s side hustle of doing assignments for people stopped months ago. Even though I’ve never used his services, many of my teammates have, and now that he’s not doing that anymore, they have to actually work for their grades.

He laughs. “For you. I don’t have time for this shit. I have practice all week.”

“Coach still busting your balls?” I ask him, knowing damn well he is. Jordan’s good, but he can get distracted. Can’t fault Coach for wanting him to be more prepared.

“You have it easy.” His eyes narrow, and he lets out a laugh. “He treats you with kid gloves.”

“That’s not true.” His eyebrows lift, and I shrug. “Don’t be jealous just because I’m the best player on the team,” I joke, pushing through the doors to the courtyard.

He scoffs. “Best player, my ass.”

I let out a laugh. I might be teasing him, but I work hard for that spot. Being captain isn’t a joke to me or a pastime. Basketball is my number one priority. My only priority. So even though he might not agree, I will get there. I will be the best on the team, and I will get drafted. It has to happen; otherwise, I have nothing.

He lifts his chin. “You want to come over and play some games?”

“You sure you want to get another beating?”

He laughs. “Fuck you. You got lucky.”

“Right.” I let out a breath, shaking my head. “Can’t. I have work tonight.”

He laughs, like working is a joke to him, and it might as well be. “Dude, come on. You can get out of it.”

“I can’t.”

His eyebrows lift, humor coating his expression. “Are you broke or something?”

My stomach cramps when I let out an uncomfortable laugh.

He claps a hand on my shoulder. “See you at practice.” He heads away to the frat house where he lives, where I tried to apply freshman year and got turned down, or I quit. The logistics are still blurry. That whole night is blurry; all I remember is chants and alcohol and a line of coke in front of me with my name on it, watching as the other pledges snorted the line, huge grins on their faces.

But I’d seen what it could do to someone once the high wore off and once they became addicted to it, hooked on it, dependent on it.

By the time I’ve reached my place, I’ve re-lived that whole night in my head. I blow out a breath, shaking the image from my head when I hear my name. I blink, seeing Grayson getting off the back of his motorcycle, a bouquet of flowers in his hands; no doubt for Rosie. That girl gets more flowers than the dead, I swear.

“What’s up?”

“You blanked out for a sec,” he says, his eyebrows bunched, looking at me with worry.

I run a hand down my face. “It’s all good,” I tell him, or maybe I tell myself. I don’t know.

“You working tonight?”

I nod. “I have class in like an hour, and then I head straight there.”

He nods. “You want me to pick you up later?”

“Nah.” I shrug. “I’ll walk.”

“You sure?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Jesus, go see your girlfriend. She’s probably waiting naked in bed for you,” I joke.

He doesn’t think it’s funny, though. He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t think about Rosie naked, asshole.”

I snort. “Too late.” I’m fucking with him. Rosalie is pretty, and my best friend definitely agrees, seeing as he’s deeply in love with her, but she does nothing for me. She’s way too tiny and way too good. I like a girl who can keep me on my toes, someone who will play with me, who’ll make it worth my time. Too bad I haven’t found her yet.

I let out a laugh when he flips me off, walking inside the house. I follow him in, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and down it.

My phone buzzes, making my head twist to where the screen lights up on the counter. I set the glass behind me and grab it, opening up the text.

Unknown:

I know your secret.

What the fuck? My eyebrows bunch up, my eyes burning a hole into the screen. I head towards the door, push it open and look around at… nothing. No one’s there.

I look down at the phone in my hand, my eyes scanning the words, reading them over and over in my head.

There’s only one secret I can think of.

Who is this?

In less than thirty seconds, I get another text, but there’s no name, no words, just a picture.

My throat burns at the picture in front of me.

How the fuck did they get this?

What do you want?

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