Leah: Hurry up, asshat!

I tap out a quick reply to Leah and hit send.

Jordan: Check your damage! I’m already here.

I toss my phone back on the seat just as a small box comes flying out a third floor window and lands right at my feet. Shading my eyes, I glance up and see the guy from the SUV waving down at me.

“Sorry!” he yells. “My aim was off!”

My eyes fall back to the box. It’s a packet of Durex flavored condoms. I reach down and pick it up. The front features a banana, apple, sliced orange, and a strawberry, with a tagline that reads fruity flavors for extra fun. I give an audible snort because nothing spells out sexy times better than fruit salad.

I glance up again when the guy comes bursting out of the apartment block, his sunglasses perched on his head. He jogs over, his tanned skin covered with a light sheen of sweat from the heat.

I hold out the box. “Wow. Fruity fun. Sounds healthy.”

He gives me a quick once over before a cocky grin breaks across his face, showcasing deep dimples. He takes the box from my hand. “You look like you’re into sports and nutrition. Wanna taste my banana?”

Did he really just say that? “What an offer. Unfortunately I have to wash my hair.”

“Burn,” says one of the guys in the back of the SUV and makes a hissing noise. The sound of laughter trails from the car.

His hazel eyes crinkle, and he cocks his head curiously. “You’re Australian?”

“I am,” I reply, surprised at him picking up the accent. “From Sydney. I’m here on a sports scholarship.”

He leans up against my shitty car and folds his arms. It makes his biceps bulge temptingly, and I wonder if it’s for my benefit. “What do you play?”

I shrug, deciding to humor him while I wait for my friends. “Soccer.”

“A hot female jock that loves playing with balls? Sign me up!” He clutches a hand to his heart, and I can’t help but laugh at the dramatic gesture and at being called hot. “I’m Jaxon Draper, by the way,” he adds, holding out his hand. “But my friends call me Jax.”

His palm is rough and warm, and I like the feel of it in mine far too much so I let go quickly. “Jordan Elliott.”

“Wow, Jaxon and Jordan,” he replies. “We sound good together.”

“Really?” My brows rise dubiously. “I think we sound more like a nineteen-sixties singing duo.”

He laughs and sidles a little closer, looking up at me from beneath thick lashes. “But I can’t sing, so how about we skip the singing part and go straight to the duo?”

“Or we could just skip the duo part and go straight to the break-up?”

Jaxon’s hazel eyes light up. “Make-up sex!”

I take a much-needed step back. “I won’t win with you, will I?”

“Not if I can help it,” he replies and peers inside my car. “What’s with all the stuff?” he asks, looking at my bag of laundry. It sits next to a sports bag full of soccer gear: boots, shin guards, sweaty uniforms. I wince at the mess. I meant to get that stuff out the car, but I was too lazy to climb back up the stairs before driving over here. “You’re not moving are you? What happened? Boyfriend dump you? Because his loss is my gain. I have an apartment right here,” he says with a wave at the building in front of us. “I share it with two assholes, but I can kick them out.”

The horn of the SUV blasts and the guy driving calls out, “Hurry up, Jax!”

Jaxon waves off his friends without taking his eyes from mine. “Shut up, Damien!” he yells back, not seeming bothered by it. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?”

“Busy being a loser,” comes another voice, making me wonder how many guys are squeezed in there. I risk another glance at the car, finding them all watching us with interest.

“You should go,” I tell him, shifting uncomfortably beneath their stares.

“I should.” He pushes off from his lean on my car. “When’s your next game? I’ll come watch.”

“You already missed it. We played last night.”

“Damn. Next time then?”

We can always do with more bums on seats so I shrug an agreement, careful to keep it casual.

“So did you kick ass last night? What am I saying?” he says before I can reply. “Of course you did. Look at those long legs and cute little biceps.” Jaxon starts walking backwards, his eyes roving over me admiringly. Heat floods my cheeks from the aggressive flirting. “I bet you kill it on the field.”

“I do,” I assure him, the car keys jingling as I pocket them to head inside and chase up Leah. “I kill it off the field too, so consider yourself warned.”

“Don’t hurt me.” Jaxon holds his hands up in mock fear, but underneath I can see his pleasure at my teasing response. He points the box of condoms at me. “I’m sure I’ll being seeing you around, Killer.” Turning for the SUV, he holds the box crudely against his groin and crows to his friends, “Behold! The fruit of my loins!”

I ignore them after that, making it halfway to the building entrance before Leah comes jogging out the front door. Stripes are painted across her cheeks like war paint in our college team colors of orange, blue, and white. Matching ribbons flutter cheerily in her waves of dark brown hair.

“Ellioootttt!” she shouts loud enough for an entire mile radius to hear. Her shorts are similar to mine, but she’s wearing a short-sleeved tee shirt that fits snug across her torso. Reaching my side, she makes a kissy face. “How do I look?”

I give her an exaggerated once-over as Hayden makes his way toward us. “Like an orange tabby cat out on the prowl.”

“Perfect,” she says, rolling her eyes. “That’s just the look I was aiming for.”

Hearing a squeal of tires, I glance over at the SUV leaving the parking lot. I catch a flash of red taillights, a black and white number plate that reads MADDEN2, and a sticker on the back window of a football above the words: The person that said winning isn’t everything, never won anything.

Hayden and Leah are oblivious to the departing carload of guys. They’re both too busy staring at my car, their expressions dubious. I spread my arms wide and grin. “What do you think?”

Leah opens her mouth to reply. A garbled sound comes out.

“I think it’s great,” Hayden says quickly, but we all know it’s a lie. There’s nothing great about my car. At least he tried.

Fifteen minutes later I squeeze into a spot at the stadium between a red Dodge Ram and a shiny black Escalade. Leah sinks low in the backseat with a humiliated moan, her brown eyes peering out the window to make sure she hasn’t been seen.

“I’m not embarrassed at all, just so you know.”

“No one can see you anyway. They’re all inside.” I yank the handbrake on and it protests with a loud, teeth-grinding screech. I flinch at the horrendous sound.

Hayden is more vocal. “Motherfuck!”

I glare at both of them in turn. “At least I have a car,” I say, because the car Leah collected me from the airport with is Hayden’s, and right now it’s sitting at the mechanic’s with a busted whozeewhatsit.

“Only because you have a brother who sent you money to buy it,” Leah points out as Hayden makes his escape. She snaps her gum and reaches for her bag while I roll up the window. The air-conditioner is busted, so it’s either warm air blasting from the open window or slow suffocation. “I think I’d rather have no car than one that has a front bumper held on with a bunch of tape.”

“Just pretend they’re silver racing stripes. Ta da! Instant street cred.”

“People are gonna egg your car,” I hear her mumble as she shoves open the creaky door and hops out. The central locking is also stuffed, so I jam the key in the door to lock it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I chide as the three of us walk around the front and examine the front bumper. Six vertical pieces of tape stretch from the bonnet to somewhere beneath the car. Nicky will shit a brick if he sees it. “You can barely notice it.”