Page 1 of Love at Second Down

Chapter 1

DAMON

Itake a seat in the back of the already packed lecture room. It’s a small classroom, unlike some of the huge lecture halls I’m used to, but I shouldn’t be surprised. I can’t imagine “The Good Life on a Buck a Day,” also known as Tightwaddery, is one of the more popular classes. Hell, the only reason I took it is because I needed electives, and I figured it was an easy A.

Lifting the paper coffee cup to my lips, I take a sip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

Shit. Who am I kidding? I’m not searching for justanyfamiliar face; I’m searching forhers.

Ever since I saw Avery, my ex-girlfriend?my ex-everything?after our quarterfinal win a week ago, I’ve been on high alert. The image of her in a tight sweater and jeans, golden curls spilling over her shoulders as she smiled, is etched in mybrain, and even though I have it on good authority through old friends that she’s transferring to Ann Arbor, I still can’t believe it. At least, not until I’ve laid eyes on her myself. At about a four-hour drive, Ann Arbor is a haul from our hometown of Pittsburgh, so her presence here in the campus hangout, Bradd’s, must mean the rumors are true: she’s now a student at Ann Arbor. And I’m fucked.

With nerves jumping in my stomach, I take one more lap around the room with my gaze, only relaxing back into my seat when I confirm she’s nowhere to be found.

Shaking my head at myself, I nearly laugh.

I’m being stupid. Paranoid.

With over fifty thousand students and a three-thousand-acre campus, even if she is a student here, the odds of her being in one of my classes?especially this class?is slim to none. I have zero reason to believe I’ll run into her again. The bar where I saw her was purely a coincidence. As one of the most popular hangouts for local students, it’s not a surprise she might find her way to Bradd’s.

Reaching down to my bag on the floor, I pull out a notebook and pencil. I’ve had Professor Karr for several classes before, and I know how much he values taking notes as well as punctuality. He’s also a stickler for attendance. Not that I make a habit of skipping classes, but still. Even if this class is a cakewalk like I expect, these next few weeks are going to be fucking crazy. With only two more games to go, I’mthisclose to a College Football Playoff National Championship title.

“Is this seat taken?”

I freeze at the familiar sound of the voice coming from my right. It’s feminine and soft, a voice I’d know anywhere, and for a second, I wonder if I somehow conjured her from my thoughts.

My grip tightens on the pencil and notebook in my hands. Time slows as I stare down at the desk in front of me, knowingI need to acknowledge her but not wanting to. What would she do if I ignore her? Would she give up and go away? The Avery I used to know would. Yet, somehow, I find my gaze slowly lifting to hers, as if I need to see her with my own two eyes, to confirm she’s really here, standing beside my desk in this weird-ass class, rather than a figment of my imagination.

There was a time when I hoped and prayed this day would come, that she’d come to her senses and seek me out. If that’s even what this is. I have no idea what Avery Astor could want from me after all this time. I gave up on whimsical dreams and wishes long ago, choosing instead to focus on the fact she really had dumped my ass and accepted admission at a college across the country?Harvard, to be exact.

I blink up at her, and seeing her again is like a gut punch. The air wheezes from my lungs at the sight of her standing beside my desk, her hazel eyes locked on mine.

Not much about her has changed, that much I can assess in the seconds I let my eyes drift over her—same confident posture, same eyes that once undid me with a glance. The silky blonde curls I used to run my fingers through spill over her shoulders. The shapely mouth I once knew by heart curves into the softest of smiles.

My heart hammers in my chest as she clears her throat. I’m still staring, and realize I haven’t said anything.

“Hey, QB,” she murmurs, her voice soft.

I flinch at her use of my nickname from high school. The memories it invokes latch onto my heart and squeeze.

I glance away from her, unable to look at her any longer, the urge to flee needling beneath the surface of my skin. Frantically gathering my things, I reach down for my pack when the door at the front of the classroom slams closed and Professor Karr rushes inside, his clipped stride eating the ancient linoleum.

A glance at the clock tells me it’s 10:31 a.m., which means class has officially started.

Fuck.

I settle back into my chair and drop my bag on the floor, knowing if I even so much as think of leaving now that Karr’s here, he’ll call me out on it. Among Karr’s penchant for taking attendance and punctuality, he’s also discriminating when it comes to athletes?as in, he enjoys giving us a hard time. It’s like the man assumes we’re all slackers and is convinced that since we have scholarships, we need to earn our right to be here more so than our peers.

Beside me, Avery wordlessly slides in the empty seat as I bite back a hiss.

What are the fucking odds?

If I had the energy, I’d run the numbers, because they can’t be good.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to calm myself as Karr introduces himself, then launches into his diatribe on what to expect from this class while I squirm in my seat. The sheer proximity of her is giving me hives, and it’s not lost on me that I won the fucking semifinals in college football with more grace than how I’m handling the mere sight of my ex.

I try to listen as Karr shifts gears and starts his first lecture, but absorbing his words proves impossible when I canfeelAvery’s eyes on me, heavy on the side of my face.

In my periphery, I can see her pick up a pencil and start jotting down notes, which jolts me into action. I should probably do the same as Karr starts in on the lessonWhat is frugality? And why do we equate spending with happiness?

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