Disclaimer: Characters not mine!
A/N: This is my first attempt, my pre-assignment for Smut U. Hopefully, at the end of these lessons, I come back with a new and improved version!
Last year's flood of NFL scouts seems to have dried up for UW's hotshot QB Edward Cullen.
Have his off-field antics put paid to his pro prospects?" - College Football Round-Up
They called them flavors of the week for a reason – it made ESPN, Sports Center, whatever—if one lasted longer than seven days.
And they never did.
I knew next to nothing about sports, but I'd learned a thing or two about Edward Cullen during my first two years at the University of Washington.
I knew better than to play that game, even in my mind, knew better than to imagine anything as mundane as a relationship with him.
But my libido – she was a whore of a different flavor. She wanted to prostrate herself before him, open herself wide and invite him down for a taste. For all my whorish musings, though, I didn't entertain the idea that my flavor could entice him into Day Eight – if I even indulged myself in days one through seven fantasies.
But good golly, if only her vocal little whorish self could convince good girl Bella to at least try.
My skin positively tingled in his presence. I'd read my fair share of romance novels – and then some! I'd read about the electric current on contact with The One. The quickening pulse, the shallow breath, the heated skin...
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. The novels were pathetic. Incomplete, faulty shadows of this reality, of my twice weekly fantasies as I gazed at the back of Cullen's head. Of how I felt in the presence of Edward Cullen, quarterback extraordinaire and UW's claim to football glory.
I shared one class with him, Advertising and Market Research. I craved anonymity, so hovered near the back, top of the bank of desks rising up from the lectern down front. Edward, who I couldn't imagine having ever experienced an anonymous moment in his glided life, sat front and center, hedged in by giggling sorority girls, jocks and assorted hangers-on.
I recognized this attraction for what it was. Purely a carnal response to a sadistically attractive man. Moth to flame. Craving the forbidden, the unattainable. From my spot behind him, all I could see was wide, muscular shoulders, a thick, heavily corded neck and shaggy hair some sexy shade between auburn and brown.
When I thought about this attraction with my logical, good girl self—who also sneered at how much time I wasted drooling aver the delicious Mr. Cullen – I knew he wasn't someone I really wanted to be with. Shoot, I didn't even really know him. How could I want someone I didn't know? This was purely physical, that trite animal attraction the romance novels loved to carry on about.
But that understanding didn't stave off the craving. The burning just beneath the surface of my skin that would only be assuaged by his touch. The sensible acknowledgment didn't stop the over-the-top lurid fantasies. And certainly didn't put an end to the Tuesday and Thursday morning daydreams I'd entertained since beginning my second to last year at Udub.
Something whizzed past my right ear – who would waste an M&M like that? - and I slanted a look at Alice. Alice made googly eyes at me and I knew I was busted. Yet again. I slouched down on the desk and focused on the professor.
Edward Cullen was not the only male in the room. And when it got right down to it, he wasn't even the most important one.
I focused on Professor Banner droning on and on. Images flashed on the huge screen behind him. I tapped a few notes into my laptop as he launched into an overview of the class' main project for the semester.
"You'll be designing an ad campaign, top to bottom," he said, flipping off the screen. "Groups assigned today are permanent, no drama, no changes. I have absolutely no interest in your thoughts or opinions of your assigned partners. Who you get today is who you're stuck with, so suck it up."
I snorted a little laugh. One of the things I most appreciated out of this professor was his directness. Never a question of what he wanted; he made it perfectly clear.
He began to count off students before anyone had time to put up a fuss. He pointed to the far right of the room, the first desk, bottom row. "One," he said. And then continued pointing.
"Two," the next student called out. So on and so forth. Edward's deep voice laughed out a seven, which caused a few snickers and giggles. Seven happened to be his jersey number, too.
The next seven was a student I didn't know, a slender guy with pale hair and a nervous demeanor. The next was one of the "Plastics". Girls Alice and I had labeled for their apparent desire to achieve social success as opposed to academic here in the Land of College. They endeavored to snare Husband Number One before graduation, it seemed, acquiring degree was just incidental. It was harsh, terribly judgmental of us, but as I saw said Plastic toss her board-straight blonde hair over her shoulder in a classic Plastic move, I couldn't be too hard on myself. She was already preening for The Original Seven. Shoot, I already felt pity for the rest of that group-
"Six."
No...I darted a startled look to my left, to the student who'd just called out six beside me. No, no, no, the gods couldn't be so cruel...oh, but indeed they could. "Seven." My voice squeaked. I cleared my throat and said it again, as though repeating it would cement this disaster firmly in my brain. "Seven."
Alice laughed as she called out her stupid, overly lucky "eight!" I shoved a book sitting on her desk, feeling childish but entitled as I slumped down in the desk. How the hell would I survive the semester stuck in a project group with my fantasy guy?
"That's gonna be all kinds of fun, Bella." She laughed again, but before I could share my opinion, she'd turned to search out the rest of her group.
Alice assumed I was just crushing on the too-handsome-for-my-own-good quarterback, but I knew it wasn't that simple. I'd crushed before, who hasn't? Those classic feelings, all fluttery, light and effervescent. They came and went with the seasons. They left you feeling, well...all fluttery and light and effervescent.
That was not at all what I experienced when I let my thoughts settle on Edward. My gaze drifted to him, yet again. He was tall, built, hotter than should be humanly possible, with that edge of attainability just suckering a girl in. Yes, what I felt should be all fluttery and light.
Instead, I yearned to drag my nails down the wide expanse of his chest. To open my mouth, drag my tongue along the sensual curve between his throat and shoulder. I wanted to mark him, carve myself into him until I was as under his skin as he was mine, until my every breath was flavored with his scent, until his eyes burned with my image, and only mine. I wanted to possess him. And worse, I wanted to be possessed by him, in every dark and sensual way my torrid little mind could conjure up.
I dragged in a deep shuddery breath, forced it out slow and even. I needed to get a grip.
What I wanted for my future...a quick lay with the college super player didn't figure into it. I knew myself, and I couldn't handle a quickie fuck with no attachments. And as I watched the blonde Plastic saunter closer to Edward, watched his head tilt down in her direction, I knew I wasn't his type, even if I could handle something like that. I had to smirk at myself. Here I was shooting him down in my mind, when in reality, the man had never even noticed me, not in two years.
The sounds of desks scraping and conversation starting signaled the end of class, pulling me out of my silliness. Groups were trading contact info and picking up the project plan from up front. Plastic Girl and Unknown Boy were already chatting with Golden Boy Edward.
I turned to find Alice and see if I could drag her down with me, chicken that I am. But she was still bouncing from foot to foot with three other girls, her project group, apparently. Lucky her. I'd have to suck it up and go meet my own all by my lonesome.
Big girl panties, Swan. Move it!
One foot in front of the other, I cautiously made my way down the huge steps that still managed to worry me and my clumsy self and approached the other sevens. Plastic Girl was still flirting, so I dashed past them for the project papers stacked on the professor's desk. Grabbing four, I turned back to my group.
"Mid-afternoon doesn't work for me this week. Coach has us doing two-a-days all week."
God, even his voice slid right through me. I stiffened my spine and crept closer. Best to get a date settled, exchange our deets and get the hell out of here. Much longer and I'd run out of oxygen.
"We'll need to exchange numbers, Edward, so we can coordinate our study times," Blondie murmured suggestively. How did she do that? Was that a Freshman class I missed last year?
He dug his phone out of his jeans' pocket and gave it to her, sleazeball hoochie man that he was.
Bella ripped a page from her notepad, tore it in pieces and wrote her number down three times before passing it to her fellow Sevens. She didn't make eye contact with any of them. Blondie took it, but didn't look up from Edward's phone, Edward nodded distractedly (Plastics had uniforms and cleavage guidelines. Blondie excelled in the skimpy bare-all shirt department.) and Unknown Boy took my scrap and passed me one of his own.
Mike and a number was scrawled across it. I looked up and dared to meet his eyes. He grimaced at me and I knew he was wondering if he was doomed to either fail or do all the work on this project himself. It was more than evident Edward and the blonde were making plans for something besides a study session. I tried to convey with a look that I was on board, ready to fully participate, so he wasn't totally screwed. He nodded in acknowledgment.
"So," he said then, breaking into the whisperings between our other partners. "No mid-afternoons, but what about mornings or evenings?"
Before I could respond, Cullen pulled his attention from Irina the Plastic. "Nights, man, work best for me."
"Just not Wednesday night." I had a standing appointment, something that couldn't be changed.
Irina practically crooned her own response. "How about tonight? At least to start, until we work out a regular schedule."
Cullen nodded. "Text me a time and place, babe. No earlier than 8." This was directed to Irina and an instant later, Edward Cullen strode away.