On a Wednesday by Whitney G.

Courtney: Then

Freshman Year

Pittsburgh, PA

Istood outside of Kyle Stanton’s dorm room, hating that the other first-year reporter on staff had waited until the last minute to do this interview.

Not only had he waited until three days ago to tell me that he hadn’t done this, he said that he hadn’t even tried to email Kyle. That left me racing around campus for half a week, failing to catch Mr. Cocky without fangirls or teammates.

I’d almost refused this assignment, since I doubted that any of the football or basketball players took The Pitts News seriously, but I knew that my work ethic would count when it came time for me to apply to my dream program in London.

It’s now or never, Court. You have to get this done tonight.

I let out a breath and knocked on his door.

No answer.

Several seconds passed, and I knocked again, much harder this time.

Before I could pull out my phone to record a video of my failed attempt, the door swung open.

“Yes?” Kyle smiled at me, shirtless and in grey sweats.

His six-pack abs were on full display, and from the water droplets that were currently drifting down his hard chest, I assumed that he’d just stepped out of the shower.

“May I help you with something?” he asked.

“Yeah, I um—” I paused, spotting an inflatable hot tub full of Jell-O behind him. There were a few pair of lace panties hanging from the side of it. “I need to ask you a few questions for The Pitt News.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?” He tilted his head to the side. “That can’t be why you’re really here at this time.”

“Trust me, it is.” I rolled my eyes and flipped over the makeshift media pass that hung around my neck. “This will only take a few minutes, and I’d appreciate your help, so I can be done chasing you around campus.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone chasing me.” He leaned against the doorframe, looking me up and down. “I would have definitelynoticed someone like you.”

“Thanks, but anyway—” I didn’t want to waste my time addressing his comment. From what I’d heard, he’d say anything to get a girl into his bed. “How do you feel about being named ‘Player of the Week’ by ESPN’s College Edition?”

“You’re on the university’s cheerleading squad, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms. “I’ve seen you on the sidelines cheering for me, but you’re never at my parties.”

“You’re extremely honored and humbled, got it.” I turned off my digital recorder and made up an answer for him. “Next question: Did you always know that you wanted to play for the University of Pittsburgh, or were you weighing options from other schools?”

“All of my teammates think you’re sexy as hell,” he said. “I mean, I may have been the one who pointed it out during our first game, but they all agreed once they saw you. You did a very impressive split last weekend…”

“So, you’ve always wanted to play for Pitt, and it’s been a childhood dream of yours,” I said. “Feel free to tell me three of your favorite things about being on the team.”

“You’re really going to stand there and avoid the words I’m saying to you, Miss Pitt News?” He smiled. “Is that your plan?”

“I’m doing the exact same thing that you’re doing. Can you give me at least one favorite thing?”

“Fair enough.” He laughed. “I am honored by ESPN’s ranking, but I would be even more honored if I was named as Player of the Week every week this season because my numbers don’t lie, and that’s what I deserve.”

“Seriously?”

“You can print that line verbatim,” he said. “For your second question, I was also debating between Ohio State, LSU, and Florida. I chose Pitt because it was closest to home and the coach believed in me.”

“Thank you.” I took down his words.

“As for your other questions ...” He pointed to my notebook. “I’ve always been a so-called, ‘cocky, egotistical bastard’ as you wrote, but it’s not like I haven’t worked hard to be the best since middle school.”

My cheeks reddened and I searched for a way to apologize, but he beat me to it.

“Photographic memory,” he said, not looking offended at all. “You should be more careful with what you write down about other people, though. One day, you may say some words that you can’t take back. Any other questions?”

“No, that’s it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you planning to answer any of things that I asked you?”

“Nope. Never.” I tossed my notebook into my bag and walked down the hall.

Without looking back, I pushed the stairwell door open and rushed down the steps until I reached his dorm’s lobby.

The moment I opened the exit door, a gust of wind slammed it shut.

Outside, heavy sheets of rain and rounds of lightning made it clear that walking to lower campus was out of the question.

“Would you like a ride?” Kyle’s deep voice was suddenly behind me.

“No, that’s okay.” I turned around, noticing that he was still shirtless. “I’ll call Safe-Rider.”

“I’m talking about a different type of ride,” he said. “I mean, you’re already here and I saw you glance down at my sweats a few times. I’m more than happy to fulfill any of your fantasy requests.”

“Please tell me that you’re joking, or that you’re high as hell right now.”

“I’ve never done drugs,” he said. “Is that a yes?”

“You know what?” I stepped back. “In two seconds, I’m returning to my reality where I never met you, and I hope you'll do the same. Safe-Rider will suffice.”

He laughed and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “It always takes those drivers half an hour to pick people up. I was headed to the lower campus for a late-night snack anyway. I’m offering you a real ride.”

“What are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “What’s it going to be?”

I didn’t get a chance to fully weigh my options.

Streaks of lightning flashed across the sky, and the rain attacked the windows so fiercely that they shook.

“Fine,” I said. “Just a ride to my dorm. Nothing more, right?”

“Nothing more.” He motioned for me to follow him past the coffee stand and the laundry center, to the other side of the dorm.

Stopping in front of a room that read, “For Kyle Stanton,” he told me to wait a few seconds before slipping inside.

Seconds later, he re-emerged wearing a dark blue Pitt hoodie, and then he grabbed my hand and pulled me down another hallway that led to the parking lot.

I hated that his mere touch sent my entire body into a frenzy.

Think about all the lace panties in his room, Court. Think about those panties…

“Stay here,” he said, letting my hand go as he opened the door. “I’ll pull my car under the awning for you.”

I pinched myself to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming. That I wasn’t witnessing the same guy who offered me a ride on his cock a few minutes ago, rushing out in the rain to retrieve his car.

Minutes later, bright headlights cut through the downpour, and he pulled his white SUV in front of me.

The passenger window rolled down, and Kyle looked at me. “You plan on getting in, or not?”

I adjusted the strap on my bag and stepped out, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Here.” He pulled the seatbelt across my chest, clicking it into place.

I pretended not to inhale the scent of his cologne as he drove away.

“What’s your major?” He looked over at me once we approached a red light.

“Journalism,” I said. “I would ask for yours, but I don’t think attending class is your thing.”

“It’s not a requirement for football.” He smiled, revealing two deep dimples. “I’m thinking about majoring in Pre-Law, though. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer in another life.”

“Really?”

“Hell no.” He laughed. “I’ll probably pick something easy like Communication and call it a day.”

“I wish it was that easy for me…” I muttered.

“You probably have the next ten years of your life planned out, don’t you?” He steered the car onto Fifth Avenue. “You strike me as that type of girl.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” I said. “I’m as spontaneous as they get.”

“You’re wearing a button-down shirt, slacks, and your hair is pulled into a perfect fucking bun—at two in the morning,” he said. “I’d be willing to bet that you’ve ever done a spontaneous thing a day in your life.”

I tried to think of a way to dispute that, but I couldn’t.

I remained silent and looked outside my window. I knew that there was no point in admitting that I drafted a spreadsheet for every semester of my college career. That I’d broken down everything from potential relationships, student activities, and how many things I needed to accomplish in order to achieve my dream of becoming a renowned journalist.

A few minutes later, Kyle pulled the car in front of the three freshman dorm towers that stood at the center of campus.

Putting the car in park, he unbuckled his seatbelt. Then he pulled his blue hoodie over his head and handed it to me.

“Here,” he said. “Put this on since you don’t have an umbrella.”

I tugged the hoodie over my head and pulled the drawstring super tight as he stepped out of the car.

The moment it was secure, Kyle opened the door and reached for my hand.

Like the gentleman that I would’ve never guessed he would be, he escorted me up the steps and across the walkway to Tower B.

“Thank you, Kyle.” I stopped walking in front of the entry doors. “Give me a few seconds, so I can give your hoodie back.”

“No, that’s okay.” He stepped back. “Keep it. It gives me a reason to come see you.”

“I’m giving it to your coach at the next game, then.”

He laughed. “In that case, I’m looking forward to seeing you cheer for me on the sidelines this Saturday.”

“I’m cheering for the team, not one of its egotistical players.”

“For now.” He smiled, and I hated that that’s all it took to make butterflies flutter in my chest. “I guarantee that you’ll be a huge fan of mine by the end of our senior year.”

“Are you making plans to win a Nobel Laureate by then, or something?”

“Of course not,” he said, lowering his voice. “I’m planning to get a deeper understanding of you, though.”

The way he emphasized the word ‘deeper’ told me to run away right now before I fell under his spell like everyone else.

We stood staring at each other for several seconds.

The rain and wind battering the windows was the only sound between us.

“I think you’re the type of girl I’ll marry someday,” he said, looking genuine. “I’ll see you at the altar years from now.”

“I’m not into polygamy, Kyle.”

“What about orgies?” He smirked.

I rolled my eyes and took two giant steps back. “Thank you for the ride. I’ll continue keeping my distance.”

“No, thank you,” he said. “This was the best night of my college career so far.”

He winked at me and walked away without saying anything else, leaving me confused and aroused all at once.

Snap out of it Courtney. He’s Kyle Stanton; he was feeding you a script.

You’ll never EVER talk to him again.