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Preface
Lindy
Six months later
The soundof the marching band fills the entire campus. On game nights, everybody drifts in the same direction. Almost the whole campus goes to the games, especially now that we are playing for the championship.
People smile at us as we walk past. Guys pump their fists in midair. Girls bite their lips when they stare at my boyfriends, and then wrinkle their noses when they look at me.
My guys stand in formation around me, protectively escorting me through the crowds that intensify as we get closer to the stadium. I can already hear the murmur of people in the stands. As we got closer to the championship, the stands got more crowded. They even brought in extra rigging to accommodate all the alumni and celebrities who’ve been appearing at games. It’s been really good for the school, and really good for the football program.
And really good for me.
Everybody knows who my guys are. These are the four starting players who have brought our team through an almost-perfect season. A couple of years ago, they had a lot of talent. But as they progressed, they attracted more and more attention. They are inseparable. They train together, they live together, they play together. They practically communicate on a psychic level.
And I am their queen.
Or at least, I feel like their queen. Everything I want, they do for me. They are so attentive, sometimes I don’t even have to say what I want out loud. They just know.
Every morning when I wake up, one of them is already there, making sure there is fresh coffee before class. They walk me to my lectures and labs. And we eat dinner together among the fraternity house brothers who all sort of hang back, giving us our space.
I never knew it could be like this. I feel famous. I never expected to receive so much attention in my whole life.
When I don’t have to think about little things, I can think about big things. Their love and attention has given me such inspiration, my work is better than it ever has been. I never would have thought this was possible. It’s just that everything they do sets my mind on fire. It has to get out of me somehow, and every painting that I have made has been light-years ahead of the paintings I made just last year.
Even though the crowd is probably thirty people deep around the stadium, they all part for us. They make a path. The guys need to get to the locker room. I need to get to my seat at the fifty-yard line. We can’t be delayed.
Trevor slides his fingers down my forearm, cupping my hand in his giant, dinner plate-size palm. He smiles down on me, his sandy-blond hair frilling in his face. His eyes are bright with confidence and excitement.
Diego dips his head toward mine to nuzzle my forehead. His jet-black hair is pushed back from his forehead, but one stubborn curl always manages to break free and dangle over his eyebrow.
“Don’t tell me you guys are nervous,” I smirk.
Spencer casts me a look over his shoulder. He’s not as tall as the others, but he has everything under control. Always.
“Nothing to be nervous about,” he sniffs.
“Well, I’m a little nervous,” Zeke shrugs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There is a lot riding on this game. We have never made it all the way to the championship before.”
“Spencer is nervous too,” Trevor says confidentially.
“I’m not!” Spencer objects. “We have been training for this moment for three years, you guys. This is it. This is our time.”
“I’m really glad you are here,” Diego murmurs close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “I love knowing that you are up there watching us.”
“I love watching you,” I murmur, lifting my chin so I can taste his lips briefly.
I can feel people’s eyes on us as we walk past. With more non-students in the crowd, there are still some people who don’t know who we are. They can probably tell this is the football team, but they don’t know anything about our relationship. It probably looks strange to them.
Just knowing that gives me a kind of thrill. I never knew that I loved being the center of attention. Especially the kind of attention that comes with being one woman with four extraordinary boyfriends.
It takes a certain kind of boldness.
As we walk along the back side of the stands, the vibrations in the supports carries along the lawn underneath our feet. I see Spencer’s thick, ropy shoulders tense underneath his T-shirt. Zeke glances at him, checking on him again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Trevor is gnawing on the inside of his cheek. And Diego is holding my hand a little too tightly.
When we come to the separation of the stands, I push my way out of the group, grabbing Trevor’s hand on the way.
