The Player’s Game

Natasja Kensington

—Age 19

You want to know how to get on someone’s shit list? Show up at the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, technically, I was at the right place because I was doing my job. The part-time job I had at Hillside’s main library on campus.

The sprawling, grayish building was goth-like, with its pointed arches and ginormous stained-glass windows that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the more modern buildings on this central Texas campus nestled between vast hills of limestone and live oak trees. Actually, Anderson Library was a historical landmark, which had been in existence for over one hundred years. It was the first building ever constructed at Hillside University.

What was I doing? Brain babbling about meaningless facts again. I did this when I was in an awkward position and tried to make myself feel not so awkward. Because I was standing in this very library, in the American History aisle, catching a show I certainly didn’t buy a ticket for when I went in search of a book. Unfortunately, I was watching a couple a few feet away, making their own history.

A beautiful, leggy brunette was standing in a plaid miniskirt, unbuttoning her shirt until she parted it wide—braless. Her more-than-generous breasts were on display to the tall, muscular guy who had his back to me, leaning against the bookcase. The very spot where I needed to be to get the stupid memoir my manager had asked for.

Then the girl slipped off her panties, kicking them aside in her heels, before she threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Just admit it. You missed this,” she breathed seductively as she started gyrating against him.

Realization slapped me in the face. They were going to fuck in the library, right in front of the Alexander Hamilton section. The section where my manager had asked me to retrieve a rare book because one of Hillside’s most respected and tenured professors had requested it. The book was buried behind the hip of this brick wall of a guy, who was still leaning casually against the bookshelf, unmoving, as pink heels dug into his ass, and brunette Barbie with the perfect boobs continued sliding up and down his body like he was a stripper pole.

Her hands slid down his wide back, tightening his already fitted T-shirt, accentuating the bulk of muscle underneath. With his build, he must be some sort of athlete. Probably one of the football players on campus.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she moaned, leaning in to kiss him, but he turned his head to the side. When he did that, I could see the profile of her face. Her eyes opened and quickly narrowed as she was now glaring at me over his shoulder. “What the hell are you looking at? Get the fuck out of here, you freak!”

My heart seemed to stop, and I tried to gather my wits and force my feet to step back and get away. Then, the brick wall of a man twisted his head over his shoulder to look, too. And, oh, boy, was I off the mark. Yes, he was an athlete at Hillside. I just didn’t know before that he wastheathlete. One of the most well-known athletes on campus. The big football star here at Hillside. Not only was his play on the field acknowledged, but so were his extracurricular activities. Even I, whose social life was nearing less than zero, had heard about what a player he was.

Alex Thompson. National champion. Future NFL baller. Rumor had it he was going to forego his senior year at Hillside next season, but he’d changed his mind a few months ago. Rumor also had it that he’d left a trail of broken hearts the size of the Hillside campus. I’d also heard that he’d had a liaison with one of his professors last year, a married professor who taught British Lit and who was one of the most widely known professors on campus because everyone signed up for her class. But after the so-called affair, she didn’t return to Hillside this year.

There were other things about him that seemed to be spread around as fact, and everyone seemed to know about it. In a nutshell, every move he made seemed to be common knowledge among the masses in this college town. He was that popular. He was also in one of my classes, Genetics, but he probably didn’t know it.

However, his deep brown eyes were still locked on me, mesmerizing as they were, and I forgot the reason why I needed to step away and not voyeurize these people.Jeez, I truly must be a freak. His full lips curved up a smidge, bearing a small flash of glossy white teeth, and I could almost see why a professor might throw away her ethics, risk her job, and have an affair. Then I remembered where I was and who he was, and then brunette Barbie clarified any other reservations I might’ve had. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Go away!”

Finally sinking in, I stumbled backward and took off, hooking a right to the main desk. Before I went far, I pulled up short, nearly crashing into my manager.

“What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling like I’d just finished a grueling workout.

“What’s this?” His bushy gray brows furrowed into a V under his horn-rimmed glasses at my empty hands. “Do you not understand how to find a book?”

Mr. Wilson was a crusty old man who’d almost worked in this library as long as it had been around. He took his work seriously and always came across as grumpy and condescending.

“Yes. I know where it—”

He cut me off, whisking by me with a grumble in his voice. “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

Then he turned down that aisle.Oh, no. Like someone who couldn’t turn away from an accident, I followed him.

“Hey!” His gruff words were jarring amidst the near silence surrounding us. “What in the hell is going on in my library?” He hobble-stomped toward them while brunette Barbie dropped to her feet, hastily fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

Tugging on the hem of her blouse, she managed to throw a dark glance my way, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. “Don’t worry, we’re leaving.”

“You’re damn right, you are. I should file a complaint with campus police for public lewdness,” Mr. Wilson said, pulling out his cell phone.

Alex, who was casually leaning against the bookcase, watching this as though mildly amused and definitely not worried about his threat, shoved off the bookcase with his hands in his pockets. “Now, I don’t think we need to do all that. It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Recognition settled over the old man’s face. “Oh, Mr. Thompson. I didn’t know it was you.” Even Mr. Wilson, who was a stickler for rules and proper conduct, backed down when he realized who graced his library. Seriously?

Alex shrugged carelessly, walking over to Mr. Wilson. “No harm, no foul.” He reached out and shook my manager’s hand.

“We gonna win another championship next season, son?”

“Gonna do my best to make it happen, sir.” Alex peered down at me, and mischief flashed in his eyes before he drew his attention back to the old man. “I’ll make sure to have some platinum seat tickets for you to all the home games.”

“That would be great.”

“Not a problem. We love our Hillside supporters.” Alex gazed down at me with a smirk on his face. “I can hook you up with some tickets, too.”

“That won’t be necessary. I don’t take bribes.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before he smiled widely. “Bribes. That’s cute.”

“Miss Kensington, why don’t you find the book I asked for instead of badgering our patrons? Or do I need to hold your hand and show you where it is?”

Patron my ass. If it had been anyone else besides this six-foot-two-inch athlete in front of me, they would’ve been tossed out of here. Regardless, I said between clenched teeth, “Of course.” Stepping around them, I went to the shelf and plucked the stupid memoir from the shelf.

Passing by me, Alex winked smugly, while his girlfriend continued to peer down at me like I was a bug she wanted to lance with her stiletto heel.

I averted my gaze and walked over to Mr. Wilson and handed him the book. So much for another boring day at the library.

The next day, I made it to my Genetics class and parked in a seat in the front row. I set down my things and cautiously glanced over my shoulder to the back section of the auditorium to see if Alex was there. However, I didn’t see him. Of course, he wasn’t. There were still five minutes before class began, and he usually showed up late.

Scrolling through my notes on my laptop, I absently clicked the top of my gel pen. Why did I feel a sense of anxiousness? Shaking my head, I shifted in my seat, wishing, for once, Dr. Longley would start class on time.

“Hey, man, can you scoot down a seat?” I heard a familiar male voice say in the row behind me.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder to find Alex sitting in the seat directly behind me. He had that infuriating grin on his face as if expecting me to notice him and gave me a two-finger salute.

I quickly faced the front, fighting the racing of my pulse. Luckily, our professor began his lecture. I tried not to read too much into why he chose the seat behind me since he normally sat in the back row. Besides seeing him say a few words to students who were fans of the team before and after class, Alex never participated in class discussions. But today, he seemed more than eager to answer questions, even asking Dr. Longley questions for clarification on genetic code sequencing.

I rolled my eyes and twirled my pen in my hand, checking my phone for the time. Only a few more minutes. I sighed in relief. As soon as class ended, I quickly shoved my things into my backpack and rushed out of the auditorium.

The next time I had that class, I arrived a few minutes early like always. Pulling up a PDF of an article for class, I aimlessly scanned over it when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This time, I didn’t turn around to look, but I knew he was there. Although class had begun, my mind was preoccupied.

Why did my pulse speed up when he took the seat behind me? Why would I even think he was deliberately trying to get my attention? Maybe I was just overreacting.

Stupid imagination. What could I say? I loved to lose myself in a book and escape. It wasn’t unusual for me to get caught up in the fictitious world of my favorite Romeroce books, so maybe I was reading too much into this whole scenario.I really needed to get a life.

As I absently stared at our professor, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Glancing behind me, I jerked in surprise at seeing Alex’s perfectly symmetrical face so close to mine. I could smell the cinnamon scent from the gum he was chewing. The insolent tug of his full lips showcased a flash of white teeth and two dimples that were perfect indentations. The dark scruff of shadow grazed his jaw. I could see how people could fall under his spell.

“Better pay attention because I certainly am.” His words were low, thrumming against my skin in a tempting warning.

Before I could respond, I heard, “What is your opinion, front and center?” Dr. Longley posed a question. Turning as if in a daze, it dawned on me that our professor had his attention on me, tapping his toe impatiently. He never called us by our name—there were over two hundred students in this class. But he normally called out the location of where we were seated, and after several classes, we were used to it.Front and center, left side, outer aisle, third row to the right. He was a pompous professor, yet we, the ones who cared about our GPAs, eagerly accepted his assholelishness and answered his questions with extra zeal.

However, right now, I had no zeal. I sat frozen, trying to rack my brain over what he asked, hoping I didn’t screw up my chances. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last fifteen minutes of his lecture. My mind had drifted once again.

“I can answer that, Dr. Longley,” Alex said from behind me.

Blinking my eyes rapidly, not believing what was happening, I completely took back what I said about our professor knowing none of our names because he did knowhis. “Yes, go ahead, Mr. Thompson.”

At the urging of our professor, he went on a five-minute explanation on chromosomal mutations, while I stewed in stunned silence, feeling like an idiot because I could’ve very easily answered if I’d paid attention to the question. I couldn’t help but turn around and scowl at him, while he gave me an innocent look with an unapologetic shrug.

When class wrapped up, I started packing my things and felt another tap on my shoulder. This time, I ignored him, but I could feel him ghosting over my shoulder, regardless. “It’s okay. You’ll get it next time.” With that, he gave me a consoling pat on the back, and by the time I did turn around, he was walking up the aisle, out of the auditorium.