Page 84 of Campus Heat

“This,” I said, motioning between us. “Isn’t studying.”

“Observation is an important part of the studying process,” he noted.

I rolled my eyes as my lips curled into a shy smile. Only he could make studying so technical, especially when there’s so much sexual tension involved.

He closed the distance between us. “Elizabeth…”

My heart was beating in my chest. “Yes.”

He hesitated just long enough to make the moment feel fragile. Then he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or impulsive like some of the other kisses we had shared. This one was deep and filled with meaning. We both knew that we needed to stay quiet in the library, but at that exact moment, it didn’t matter because neither of us could stop. My hands slipped onto his shoulders without me even thinking about it. And for just a second, the world shrunk to the size of the small aisle we were standing in.

It was quiet, with only the movement of our hands making any sound. The faint smell of coffee and old papers only made it more intriguing, but then everything came crashing down.

“Oh, my God.”

I jerked back and saw my best friend standing at the end of the aisle. She was staring at us with wide, delighted eyes, and I could instantly tell that this would be blown out of proportion.

“You two are scandalous,” she said with a laugh.

“Jenna—” I started.

But Jenna was already backing away and grinning like she had just discovered the best gossip on campus.

“Jenna! Don’t you dare.”

She spun around and bolted down the aisle, laughing as she disappeared into the stairwell. I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.

“Well,” Ethan said as he caught up with me.

I looked up cautiously and saw that he was trying his best not to laugh, but he was failing miserably.

“Midterms just got a whole lot more interesting.”

31

Ethan

The lights in the film room were dim, and the only illumination came from the projector that was humming a soft tune at the front of the room. Grainy footage flickered across the old, rickety screen, showing one of our offensive drives from a previous game. The air was stale, and it carried. The smell of old coffee and athletic tape was constant.

I slouched in my chair near the middle row with one leg stretched out and my arms loosely folded. The film sessions were always such a drag, with Harris constantly rewinding our mistakes and asking questions that none of us knew how to answer. Then waiting awkwardly while the guys stared in every direction but at him and his screen until someone muttered something obvious.

This session felt different, though. I was actually paying attention for once, and to my astonishment, I saw something. On the screen, the offense lined up at the line of scrimmage. The quarterback clipped once, and then the play froze.

“Pause,” Harris said, earning quite a few disgruntled moans.

The frame was locked mid-motion; the linemen were crouched, and the receivers were half-set in their stances. Harris pointed at the projection with his remote.

“Okay,” he said. “Walk me through it. Tell me what you see.”

The room was completely silent, save for a chair that creaked somewhere in the back row. Cam leaned back with his arms crossed, staring at the screen like he was expecting the answer to magically appear if he looked hard enough. Kind of like I did during my last study session. Dylan sat forward with his elbows on his knees and squinted. Harris waited patiently, like always.

“Blocking broke down?” someone offered weakly from the back.

Harris didn’t even bother to look at him. “That’s the result. Not the cause.” He clicked rewind, and the play rolled back by three seconds. “Look again. Pay careful attention to what each person is doing.”

The video ran again. There was a snap, and two seconds later our Dylan got swallowed up behind the line. Harris paused it again.

“Come on, guys,” he pleaded. “You’re smarter than this.”