SPIKED (A Sports Romance) by Harper James Page A

the music. It was still early, but the place was already packed with what appeared to be every athlete at Harton, along with a myriad of fan girls hanging onto the sleeves of every male in the room.
    It was easy to tell the student athletes apart from the rest of the populace. Harton athletes wore their embroidered jackets with pride around campus, a reminder to everyone they encountered that they were swimmers, or gymnasts, or tennis players. The football players, of course, rarely needed a jacket to set them apart, hulking humans that they were, though they wore them anyhow. Here at the bar, it was still obvious to someone as observant as me that I was surrounded by the physically elite— the girls had sculpted shoulder muscles and backs shown off in barely-there dresses. The guys were well-groomed and broad shouldered, with bodies that tapered into fit waists. More than anything, though, it was those fan girls that gave them away— no one was worshipped so steadily, so adored by beautiful playthings, like the football players at Harton.
    The place made me feel small and feeble and mousy in comparison— what the hell was I doing here, amid the beautiful people?
    Calm down , I scolded herself. You were invited, for starters, and it’s not like they’re going to challenge you to an arm wrestling or beauty contest. I pulled my shoulders back and walked deeper into the bar, looking for Jacob Everett.
    It was no surprise when I saw him holding court, as per usual— was there ever a moment when this guy wasn’t surrounded by admirers? He was sitting at a table flanked by groupies. On one side was a girl with pretty blonde hair and a heart-shaped face who was clearly one of the athletes rather than a piece of arm candy, though she had the looks to be either. After a few moments of consideration, I recognized her. It was the girl who’d stood beside him in the picture I studied when I’d masturbated after the party that night—
    The memory made me flush, hard, and I was grateful for the dim lights of the club. I focused on breathing as I closed in on him, but still, when he looked up and met my eyes, I felt all the oxygen rush out of me.
    “It’s the mime! You actually took me up on my invitation,” Jacob said brightly, though his voice teetered on the line between teasing and admonishing— but a little more the latter than I appreciated.
    “I did. So there’s no need to mention it on cable television,” I replied coolly. Jacob’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought I’d hugely overstepped— arrogant or not, this was undoubtedly his school, his bar, his court. But then the girl from the photo laughed, and it seemed to ease the hesitation in Jacob’s eyes.
    “He’s not used to being turned down, is all,” the girl said, elbowing Jacob.
    “Enough of you, Jenna,” Jacob answered, and stood, tall and powerful and looming over me. He smiled at me, and I felt my palms go sweaty—
    And then he walked away, over to a crowd of guys who were clearly on the football team with him.
    I shifted, uncomfortable, unsure where to go. I certainly wasn’t confident enough to go over and join the conversation— those guys probably wouldn’t even see me standing there, they were so huge. Perhaps I was meant to go have a seat with the other fan girls, make conversation with them about Jacob Everett’s sexual prowess?
    I’d tried not to put too much stock in this being a date, but now that I was finding out just how much of a date it wasn’t, I couldn’t help but feel a ball of humiliation circling in my stomach. Piper was right— Jacob Everett wasn’t interested in me at all. He’d just wanted to see if I would come when called.
    And I had.
    I took a step backward, wavering a bit on my heels. I caught my balance, thank god, and turned to go—
    “Wait, are you leaving?” Jenna called out.
    “Yeah, I think so. Good to meet you,” I said, smiling weakly.
    Jenna looked puzzled. “Didn’t Jacob ask you to