I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 2: Ellie

"Ellie." My car's interior buzzed with static while she sighed. "A few months is a dry spell, never in the entire first half of college is a freaking barren wasteland."

Charlie had a point but there just... wasn't anyone. I'd dated a freaking white unicorn in a handsome, kind, smart, sensitive, funny, and sexy football player, then practically sent it to the glue factory.

My bar's so high, I can't even see it.

My lower lip rolled under for a moment. "Even so, I'm not living with a football player."

"You lived with Jake," she pointed out.

"For only two months," I groaned again about my brother. "That's bad enough."

"From what you said about him at USC," Charlie's words were split up between soft giggles. "I think you'd be fine with a manwhore roommate. But breathe easy, it's not Emmitt."

A sigh of relief let me. "So if it's not Emmitt," I changed the subject away from what I definitely wanted out of my mind, Jake's experience in how many girls he'd had at USC.

I'm surprised he's not down to freshmen and faculty at this point.

Eww, gross Ellie.

"It's not Zander, is it?" I gasped slightly at the two-hundred and fifty pound fullback who sweated like he played football in a sauna and smelled like a dirty jockstrap. "He doesn't shower some days after practice."

"No," she giggled again. "Give me a little credit. I wouldn't do that to you, Ellie."

Charlie was right. Her impeccable neatness made her the perfect dishwasher after I trashed the kitchen, which was any time I used it. She also had fairly high standards that I had no idea if Wes met or not.

Guess they'll find out. For his sake, I hope he doesn't pee on the bathroom floor.

I mentally went through the offensive team's roster. "Seth? Reese? Kade? Oh gawd, please tell me it's not Kade."

Kade Foster, the Huskies' center, was one of the biggest flirts on the team. He was so shamefully bad at it that the other guys shamelessly encouraged him whenever they saw any girl near him.

Still won't forget the first time he told me 'Even if there was no gravity then I'd still fall for you...' Because I still don't get it.

"It's not Kade," she assured me. "It's some new guy, a transfer. I don't know all the details from Wes."

Huh? My roommate who practically subjected people to drug tests before they entered our dorm room has no idea who I'm living with now?

"You know Wes and details," she reminded me before I responded.

Fair point.

Her boyfriend, or fiance now I guess, had a terrible memory. If she hadn't programmed every birthday and anniversary into his phone calendar, including his, then he never would've remembered. Despite that, I hadn't seen anyone who was more sweet than how Wes was with Charlie in years.

I fought the urge to smash my forehead into the steering wheel. "Shit, Charlie," I cursed. "You did not tell me this random guy I'm supposed to live with is a transfer."

Players who transfered were just that, complete players. Each one of them was like fresh, masculine, testosterone-driven, cocky, arrogant meat tossed into UW's social scene like chum into a shark tank.

"At least only the freshman girls don't know about Emmitt. And by the end of fall semester, even they've wised up," my voice threaded with sarcasm but softened when I realized something.