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PROLOGUE

Rhodes

Freshman Year - Memorial Stadium

I’m so damned late.

I sprint down the tunnel inside the stadium and check my watch again. If I haul ass, I can make it in the next two minutes and avoid getting reamed out by Coach later when he finds out I was late on day one.

I’m honestly not sure why he has such a stick up his ass about his players being on time to orientation when we’ve already been living on campus for three weeks for training camp, but I’m not about to piss off the guy who controls my life for the next four years—less, if I manage to get drafted my junior year.

I manage to sneak past the door guard and up the stands right as the dean calls attention to himself and let out a sigh of relief as I drop into a random seat. While I pull deep breaths of the hot South Carolina air into my lungs, I hear a quiet giggle next to me. It’s the kind of laugh that you wouldn’t mind hearing all the time, soft and musical.

Letting a cocky smirk slip onto my face, I turn in my seat only to be blinded by what must be an actual angel-come-to-earth. This girl is stunning.

The angel in question has incredible ocean-blue eyes that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on a person in real life before. They’re the same color as the water in all those travel shows Mom likes to watch when Dad’s away for work. She has an adorable little nose and short blonde hair that looks so soft my fingers actually twitch with the need to touch it.

My gaze leaves her face and briefly runs over her toned body clad in a cute yellow tank—thing—with buttons on it that expose smooth shoulders, and light-blue jean shorts. She’s sitting, so it’s hard to tell how tall she is, but her long, tan legs look like they go on for miles.

She’s a freaking goddess.

The realization that I’ve been acting like a total perv hits me, so I quickly pick my jaw off the floor and snap my eyes up to hers, seeing amusement there. She bites her plump bottom lip, and God I wish I was the one biting it instead.

Her nose crinkles as she smiles at me, and she darts a quick glance to the podium. Seemingly satisfied she won’t get in trouble; she holds out her hand to shake.

“Hi.” She has a slight twang to her words. Her eyes glitter, a wide grin showcasing perfect white teeth. “My name’s Wren. Did you get lost on the way here? I did, too. I swear, my daddy always says I couldn’t find my way out of a wet paper bag in the midday sun,” she rambles, still holding her hand out, and it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.

I take her hand and suck in a breath at the spark that zings up my arm, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Wren jolts slightly, and I’d like to think she felt it too, whatever it was.

“My name’s Rhodes. And unfortunately, I don’t have an excuse as good as getting lost. I’m just chronically late,” I whisper with a grimace. People have been on my case about time management for pretty much my entire life. My parents gave up years ago, instead choosing to run on what they like to call “Rhodes Standard Time,” or RST for short. God, I miss them so much already.

Wren squeezes my hand with a soft look that immediately wipes away the sadness that was threatening to take over. “Well, Rhodes. It’s nice to meet you. And don’t feel bad about bein’ late. You were actually right on time. Sorry about all the chatter.” Her eyebrows knit together. “I’ve been told I talk a lot when I’m nervous, and you would think practically growing up on this campus would make things easier, but it really doesn’t.”

My curiosity is at an all-time high, but it’s my turn to smile reassuringly at her. “I’m assuming you grew up local then, if you spent a lot of time on campus.” I trail off with the hope she’ll share more.

Her face flushes pink as she nods, which brings my attention to the freckles on her cheeks and nose that I didn’t notice earlier.

“I did.” Her voice twangs again on ‘did’, making it sound kind of like ‘dee-id.’ I roll my lips to hold back the chuckle that threatens to escape.

She’s so goddamn cute.

With a discreet glance around us, she looks back at me and leans in, whispering, “I know we just met, but can you keep a secret?”

My heart races as I realize this goddess is choosing to trust me, a near perfect stranger, with something important to her. I hold out my pinky and give her a serious face. “I promise, Wren, you can trust me with anything. I’m a vault.” I use my other hand to mime zipping my lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.

She giggles and rolls her eyes but still takes my pinky, holding it with hers rather than letting it go right away. “Okay, well,” she whispers again, “my dad is a professor here on campus. So, I haven’t told anybody my last name just in case they connect the dots. I spent most of my time here after…” Her face falls. “Well, anyway,” she says with a grimace. “I spent pretty much my entire childhood on campus with Daddy. I was barely knee-high to a grasshopper when I would sit in on lectures and play hide-and-seek with whatever students would pay me any attention.” Her voice is timid, and I hold back another chuckle at the borderline-mortified look on her face and the expression she used to describe herself.

Instead of answering right away, I lean forward and kiss my thumb, waggling my eyebrows as hers lift with shock or confusion, or maybe both. “My mom taught me you always seal a pinky promise like this. You kiss your thumbs and then press them together.” She looks hesitant, so I press on. I know I’m laying it on thick, but I honestly can’t help it.

“Listen, we bonded here in seats…” I turn around, and one glance at the seat numbers has me beaming when I see what they are. “Ten and eleven. I mean, your seat is literally my lucky number! If that isn’t fate, then I don’t know what is. You and me, Wren? We’re gonna be best friends for life after this pinky promise. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to mess with fate,” I say casually, shrugging my shoulders like I’m not desperate to know this girl—to be in her presence as often as I can, even if it’s just as her friend.

Her face reveals zero emotions as she gives me an assessing look. “I just have one question, Rhodes,” she says seriously.

I’m a little anxious, but I refuse to show it, so I slap an easy grin on my face and raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh yeah, Wren? What’s that?” I make sure to emphasize her name like she did mine.

Her face finally cracks as a quiet giggle slips free. “What’s your middle name?”

I bark out a laugh and quickly force a cough to cover it up, glancing around to make sure nobody heard me. The last thing I need is coach to hear from another professor that I was fucking around in the middle of the dean’s opening speech.

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