Read Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) Online
Authors: Jennifer Sucevic
Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2)
Friend Zoned
By
Jennifer Sucevic
Copyright 2016 by Jennifer Sucevic
Kindle Edition
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This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Also by Jennifer Sucevic
Confessions of a Heartbreaker
Don’t Leave
King of Campus
Stay
Table of Contents
Sam
It’s the light scraping of the window pane being forced up that has my eyelids feathering open. Not a moment later, a small lithe body slips through the opening before dropping quietly to the floor of my second story bedroom. Cautiously she treads across the wooden floorboards so as to not wake my parents before toeing off her black Converse sneakers and shedding the gray hoodie. When she’s in nothing more than a thin pink tank top and a pair of stretchy black yoga pants, she continues moving towards me again. Without a word spoken between us, I simply hold open the blankets so she can slip silently beneath them.
Carefully I pull the sheet and comforter over her, tucking them around her body. “Nightmare?” It’s sleepily that the word falls from my lips into the swirling darkness. Without looking at the clock, I know it has to be well after midnight.
“Yup.”
That’s all she says and because this is a well-established routine, one we’ve been doing for about two and a half years now, I know it’s pointless to push for more. I’ve learned that all Violet really wants is for me to chase away the dreams that continue to haunt her. The last thing she wants is to talk about them.
And so I do the one thing I love best, I curve my six foot two frame around her small body, pulling her against me until we’re both comfortably settled. Even though I had been slumbering soundly before her arrival, I always sleep better with her tucked safely in my arms.
An unintentional sigh of contentment falls softly from my lips as the fragrance of her rosemary mint shampoo hits my senses. I’ve learned to simply enjoy this time of the night with her because come morning, when my alarm goes off at six thirty for school, she’ll be long gone. Back in her own bedroom about fifty yards away.
And it’ll be like it never even happened.
Violet doesn’t talk much about her parents or the younger sister she lost in a car crash when she was just fourteen years old. It’s what sent her life spiraling into chaos, forcing her to move in with her grandparents the summer before eighth grade.
But I know the nightmares still claw at her during the darkest part of the night. When they do, she’ll scamper up the scarred hundred year old oak tree that stands right outside my bedroom window with its gnarled root system and thick branches. Because I never know just when she’ll show up, I leave the window unlatched so she’s able to come and go as she pleases.
Violet burrows into my embrace before a soft contented sigh, one which echoes my own, leaves her mouth before arrowing straight through my beating heart.
“Comfy?”
I don’t know why I even bother asking. I can tell by the way her entire body goes lax against mine that she is. Then again, maybe I just want to hear her say the words. Maybe I want her to finally acknowledge that when she needs comforting, it’s me she runs to. I’m the only one who can keep the nightmares at bay. There aren’t many people Violet allows herself to be completely unguarded with. I count myself lucky to be one of the chosen few. Protecting her has become second nature.
More like a reflex.
Again she sighs in pleasure, “Mmm hmm.”
But it’s enough.
Enough for now.
“Good. Now go to bed so we can both get a little shut eye.” Although I would stand guard over her sleeping form until the sun came up in the eastern sky if that’s what she needed. If that’s what it took for her to get just a little bit of rest.
Violet may not realize it, but she completes me in the most basic sense of the word. When she’s wrapped up tight in my arms, it’s like I can finally breathe again. Which is kind of strange because, before Violet Winterfield entered my life, I never realized that I wasn’t sucking in full breaths of oxygen.
This girl is mine. I marked her as my own when I first locked eyes on her as she stepped out of her grandparent’s navy sedan three summers ago.
Just as my eyes start to droop, she murmurs into the darkness that continues to cloak us, “Don’t let go, okay?”
Her words have me pressing my lips against the gentle curve of her cheek before whispering fiercely, “I won’t let go, Vi. Not ever.”
Sam slides his big muscular body onto the chair parked next to me about thirty seconds after the start of class. His thick jean clad leg presses up against mine as he settles himself in. Not taking my eyes off the professor who has already launched into the lecture for the day, I carefully whisper from the corner of my mouth, “So nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Harper.”
Even though I’m not looking his way, I know he’s grinning from ear to ear. I can all but feel it. His smiles are just as brilliantly blinding as the sun. Heat radiates from them in thick heavy waves. Any minute his warm breath is going to feather right across my-
“Hey, I had to haul ass all the way from the stadium.” He snorts before adding, “Coach scheduled a midafternoon practice just for the fun of it.”
Well... that last comment is completely debatable. After all, it’s early November. And damn chilly out. The Bulldogs have been on an incredible winning streak this season, which means ramped up practices and workout schedules so they can keep their number one seed going into the playoffs. At this point, everyone in their conference is looking to tear them down.
Finally glancing over at him, I notice his dark blond hair is all shiny and wet from the shower he must have just taken. His bright blue eyes spear mine with a sparkle of mischief simmering within them. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is just a bit labored.
He looks…
He kind of looks…
I’m slammed with the notion that this is probably how Sam looks right after a rowdy bout of sex. Something deliciously hot arrows clean through me before settling deep within my core. Not knowing where the hell
that
thought sprang up from, I abruptly shift my body away from his. My brows pull together in bewilderment.
What the hell is that all about?
Even more bothersome than that- those kinds of pesky thoughts regarding Sam have been cropping up with a disconcerting amount of frequency lately. And, I swear to god, it slammed into me out of nowhere. It’s not like anything even happened between us. More like I blinked one day and suddenly he just looked different to me.
That being said, I just need it all to go away.
Sam and I are friends.
Good friends. But friends none the less. And I really don’t want that changing.
We met when I moved in with my grandparents who live right next door to his family. That was eight years ago and we’ve been tight ever since. Somehow we lucked out, both of us choosing to attend Barnett University.
I wanted to stick close to my grandparents since I’m all they have and Sam plays football for the Barnett Bulldogs. Although I know he was offered full rides to play at half a dozen other division I programs both in and out of state, he chose to stay local as well.
Needing to refocus my runaway thoughts, I murmur under my breath, “I’m hoping for your sake that you finished up the paper that’s due today on the
power of the judiciary over the legislature
.” I don’t even look at him as I say the words. The last thing I need is to incur the wrath of Dr. Rickets.
“Yup. Freshly printed with references cited up the ass.”
I almost snort but thankfully rein it back in at the last moment. References had better be cited or Rickets will come after you with both barrels blasting. He’s flunked people in PS 345-
the Judicial Process
for way less than that. Since Sam and I are both in the pre-law program, we have a lot of the same classes although this is the only one we have together this semester. So we end up hunkered down at the library on a fairly regular basis.
Rickets continues droning on as Sam gets his laptop up and running. After about fifteen minutes, he leans towards me again, totally breaking my concentration. Unfortunately laser focus is required because this class takes dry to whole new and challenging level. “You planning to hit the Sigma party tonight?”
My brows furrow as I silently contemplate the question. I’m just on the verge of answering when Rickets sharp voice slices through the stale air of the classroom.
“An answer if you please, Mr. Harper.”
My belly drops about eleven stories in two seconds flat because even though I try not to let Sam distract me, I hadn’t been aware of a question being thrown out there.
But Sam doesn’t miss a beat. “Within limits, judges do, in fact, make law. Common law is their creation, and statutes require their interpretation. All law must continually be aligned with the Constitution. But at the end of the day, the Constitution means what judges decide it does.”
If Rickets is at all impressed by the fact that Sam answered without even blinking his eyes, he doesn’t let on. Although, by the way he presses his fleshy lips together, I’d have to say he’s disappointed not to have caught Sam unawares. He continues lecturing in a rather monotone voice, biding his time before springing yet another complex question on some unsuspecting student just trying to muddle their way through this class so they can graduate.
Almost leisurely, Sam stretches out that great big body of his in the seat next to me. As he does, the bottom of his soft gray cotton t-shirt rides up giving me a rather distracting view of rock solid abdominals before I force my eyes away.
I seriously don’t know what the hell is going on with me lately. I mean, it hasn’t been
that
long since I’ve been with a guy. Certainly not long enough to warrant me noticing the taut ridges of my best friend’s six pack.
But I am.
Yeah… I am
so
noticing them right now.
And that is all kinds of wrong.
“So, you in or out for the party?”
Irritated by the unwanted feelings that keep popping up within me, I shake my head before muttering, “Can we discuss this after class? I’m trying to focus here.”
Key word is
trying
.
