Varsity Bad Boy Series

Book One Varsity Bad Boy: Chapter 2

Liam

I was practicing throws to one of my roommates, Eric, who is also on the football team with me. We are both seniors this year, and both want to get drafted into the NFL. I’m the quarterback of the team.

The competition for getting into the NFL as a quarterback is fierce. You have to stand out for a team to notice you.

I’m daring and make what they call "badass" moves. That’s how I originally got the nickname. With a name like "The Badass," you have a lot to live up to.

Our last football game was brutal, but we won. Right now, we are on our way to earning the chance to play in a Super Bowl game.

I want my college football career to end on a high note with a win in a national championship game, so I will do whatever I can to ensure that happens.

We are on a bye week from football, which means no practice or games this week at all. We get a one-week break. Every football team we play against gets a bye week during the season; this is our turn.

We definitely need a break, especially after winning a tough game. Most of the football players take advantage of the break, but Eric and I are doing light practices to keep our game sharp.

It can be as simple as tossing the football around on our front lawn, which is exactly what we’re doing right now. I overthrew the ball, and it landed at the house next door.

One of the girls who lives next door is so easy to annoy, and I get a kick out of making her mad.

She’s a total bookworm. I don’t think she even knows how to sit back, relax, and have fun.

She’s cute—a short girl at only 5’3”, with long brown hair and green eyes. She’s a little on the chunky side. Definitely not skinny, but she’s proportional, with big breasts and a bubble butt. Her hourglass shape gives her a sexy body.

She’s definitely not my type, even though she’s cute. She’s just too serious for my taste. I’d rather have one of the Deltas on the other side of my house than this bookworm.

I got the football back from her, but I also managed to annoy her and snag a slice of pizza too. Meat lovers—she does have good taste in pizza.

I’m standing on her porch with the pizza, taking a bite while she glares at me when Big John, one of my housemates and fellow football players, calls over to me.

“Hey! The keg just got here; you ready, dude?” Big John, the football center, calls out.

“Yep, I’m ready. Bring it on… See you later, bookworm,” I say to her.

I walk into the house, head over to the keg we just tapped, and pour myself a beer, raising the glass to my teammates.

“For the bye week! Let’s relax, have fun, and get all the girls we can!”

My teammates clink their glasses and yell, “Yeah!” It’s time for the party to begin. The next party won’t be until February, so we better live it up now.

We live for football here. When we’re in training, there are no parties during the week. If we go to a party on the weekend, we’re limited to no more than five beers, and none on Sunday.

We start football practice around 4 PM until 7 PM, Monday through Friday. Practice consists of running drills and time in the weight room.

The only break we get is our bye week. It’s a chance to blow off steam after living and breathing football for weeks. The reason for our intense training is to prepare us for the pros. This school is known for producing football players who have gone pro.

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Olivia

“Anthony, this is an awful lot of eyeshadow you’re using,” I say to him as he applies makeup on me.

Anthony is honestly a handsome man; he can make women drool over him with his Italian good looks and six-pack abs, but he is 100 percent not interested in women.

He has a flair for makeup. I always joke with him that he should have gone to cosmetology school instead of a university for architecture. He says he just loves creating beautiful things and is the perfect example of not judging a book by its cover.

“Hush. Your version of eye makeup is one color. If you want to get noticed, you have to add depth, and that’s more than one swipe of eyeshadow,” Anthony says.

“What look are you going for here?” I ask him.

“Elizabeth Taylor, darling. You have those rare violet eyes like hers. So, dynamic eyes and thinking nude lips. So be quiet, so I can bring the s*x goddess out in your eyes,” Anthony replies.

“Where is Piper?” I ask him. Piper is our other housemate.

“Oh, I think she’s following around some Kappa girls, hoping she can somehow get into that sorority. I swear the girl only moved in here because we are so close to Greek Row!” he says.

“Sounds like that party is in full swing,” I say as we hear laughter, yells, and, of course, music coming from next door.

“Viola! I think I’ve created a masterpiece on your face. Check it out,” Anthony says as he gestures for me to look in the bathroom mirror.

“I have to admit, you certainly have a gift,” I tell him, admiring what he’s done with my makeup.

“You have a beautiful face, darling; I just have to enhance it,” he says.

“Ahh, you are too sweet, darling,” I reply.

Anthony and I call each other “darling.” He is like my best friend, and it just comes naturally.

“Okay, go get your cute ass into that slinky red dress. Don’t forget your Spanx! We want those boys crawling on their knees for you,” he says.

“Ugh, I hate wearing Spanx,” I tell him.

“Darling, it will only be for like an hour. We can come back here, and then you can pop back out and relax,” Anthony laughs.

I don’t care what they say about shapewear; none of it is comfortable. All it does is hold the bumps in to smooth you out, and to do that, it has to be uncomfortable.

I go back into my room and finish getting ready to crash the football house party with Anthony. God, I hope this is the right decision.

I meet Anthony downstairs in our living room.

“Darling, if I were into girls, I’d be asking for your phone number. Damn girl, you look hot,” he says.

“You think so?” I ask him nervously.

“Um, hello! Yes, I do! You’re definitely going to cause those boys to have some serious wood as soon as you step foot in that house, trust me,” he replies.

He takes my hand, and we head out the door toward our football neighbors' house. Here goes nothing.