“Ethan, don’t scare the piss out of the poor girl.” Another dreamboat steps up, placing his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

Automatically, my gaze flashes down, triple checking my crotch for piss dribbling down my legs. Phew, nothing…dry as dry.

“So, what was so funny?” He cocks his eyebrow at me and sends me a panty-melting smirk.

Guarantee, my panties are wet now.

“Oh, I’m, uh…” I hold up my phone and send the two men a quick smile. “I was just reading some texts and came across a ridiculous picture of my dad on a pink flamingo.”

Holy shit, Blue, that didn’t sound awkward at all.

“Nice.” He nods, approving of my answer.

“Ethan, you’re taken, and Stephie would slit your throat if she found you flirting.” The second man steps in front of Ethan, and damn if he isn’t even fucking dreamier than Ethan. “Hi, my name is Lane.”

He reaches out and offers a handshake.

“Oh, hi, I’m Blue.” I wave like an idiot asshole from Mars, avoiding flesh contact. I have no faith in my body and know it’s damn well possible I might melt in his touch.

He waves back with a goofy grin, more than likely mirroring mine. “You go to Preston?”

“Well, no, not yet. I mean yes. I’m a freshman and just settled into the dorms.”

“So, are you a braniac and show up to school two months early, or…?” The man’s sex appeal oozes off every single word. He’s more than dreamy.

Good hell, why can’t he just turn around and mind his own sexy damn business instead of assaulting me? His eyes and looks make me want to dry hump his leg.

“Um, duh, I play ball.” Joke, yes, it’s time to stop this guy’s tactics with good ol’ fashioned humor. “Recruited as a freshman and starting this year.”

“Oh.” He pauses a moment, scratching his head. “Sorry, I didn’t pick up on that.”

“Gotcha,” I shout and point my finger at him. “I’m on the cheer team and here for training camp.”

I decide to go with over-exaggerated humor to hide the fact I’m hot for him. A smile covers his face, and then he does the typical shit most people do when you tell them you’re a cheerleader. I follow his gaze as it roams up and down my body, from the tips of my toes peeking from my sandals to the top of my messy bun. I couldn’t help but notice when he let his eyes linger a little longer on my breasts.

I gesture ahead of him. “The line is moving and your friends are ditching you.”

“Want to join us?”

Carefully monitoring what comes out of my mouth, I speak very slowly. “No, it’s okay. I just came to grab lunch and then head back to meet my roommate.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Blue.”

“Same at ya, Lane.”

Mr. Sex on a Stick finally turns around to catch up to his teammates. Thank you, Jesus, my ovaries were about two seconds from imploding.

I hang back for a little bit, allowing two new parties to cut in line as a tactic of putting space between me and the testosterone tribe. After their lingering scents have faded, I’m able to focus on the menu hanging above the counter. It’s a large black chalkboard with your typical burgers, chicken strips, and salads scrawled all over it.

As I study the menu, I fan my face with my cellphone. Yeah, not the best tool for the job, but the tiny flow of air hitting my face begins to lightly cool me. The over-crowded diner is humid and hotter than Hades. And just my luck, the line stalls out a bit with the two new parties in front of me.

Booths and tables pepper the joint, along with an eclectic collection of artwork and black and white photography. There’s a catchy vibe floating in the small area, and I try to take in as much artwork as possible to distract myself from the sweat beads forming on my forehead.

A lone customer catches my attention, and he only does that because he’s dressed in a long sleeve black t-shirt with a backward ball cap placed on his head. Craning lower, I also notice he’s wearing workout pants and not shorts. I wonder if it’s the Bionic Man. How in the hell is he not having a heat stroke dressed like that in one hundred degree weather?

“The Tuck Jones,” Lane calls loudly as he strides to the corner booth. I watch as he slides into the booth with the clothed man. They do the bro shake and hug and whatever else men do. It’s clear Lane is deep in conversation with the man. Several moments later he nods in my direction and points. The man pulls his attention from his food up to me, and I’m busted. Yes, busted beyond a shadow of any doubt. I try to casually look away as if nothing just happened, but I’m fucked.

“Ma’am.” A voice draws my attention from the embarrassing situation.

Looking forward, the two parties are gone and there’s a gap the size of freakin’ Texas between me and the counter. Yep, fucking busted.

I try to order my food, but the look on the man’s face haunts me. His face is so chiseled, and even at a distance his masculine beauty is overpowering. There is something about his deep, dark brown eyes that flips my tummy. Unlike the other men who nearly caused me to piss my panties over their good looks, he is different, and different in a way my brain can’t comprehend.

The lady behind the counter clears her throat, showcasing her irritation with me. I hurry up and order that burger I’ve been craving, along with a large order of fries, and, of course, a soda. I mean, why stop short when you’re going to splurge? I’ll be running later tonight when it’s dark, that’s for sure.

Plucking the red tray of greasy food from the counter, I find a booth, and not just any one, but the one furthest away from the group of men. As I pull out the chair, I hear someone holler my name, and I’m not shocked to see Lane standing up and holding a chair out for me.

“Join us.” He puts his arm over his chest as if I were breaking his heart.

I shake my head, knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Don’t make me cause a scene, Blue.”

I keep shaking my head, and then finally sit down in the lone seat at my table.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” he belts out, and I think he’s trying to sing, but I’m not quite sure. He throws my name in about every other word, and before I know it, the whole diner is staring at me.

“Asshole,” I say to myself as I pick up my food and head his way. “Happy?”

I plop down in the open chair, dying from embarrassment, and completely out of lust with Lane. His ‘come fuck me’ eyes no longer have any power over me after his obnoxious show.

“Blue, meet my boys, and boys, meet Blue.” He pauses for a moment. “I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Probably because I didn’t offer my last name.” I plop a ketchup soaked fry in mouth.

“Feisty one.” He takes a bite of his burger and talks around it. “I guess you didn’t like my singing.”

“You call that singing?” His teammates bust out in laughter. I look up to see all of them watching us, even the man who is overdressed. “And my last name is Williams.”

“Blue here is a freshman cheerleader.”

“That would be me, and this would be the most awkward moment of my life.” I grab my burger and go in for the kill, taking a large bite just like Lane did.

“Consider this your welcome to college life,” Ethan advises. “My girl is a junior cheerleader. Her name is Stephie, and she never eats like that.”

Several men choke back their laughter, but it’s the one in long sleeves who holds my attention. He shakes his head and backhands Ethan.

“Well, I guess she doesn’t know how to live life then.”

Immediately I pray to the cheer gods that Stephie isn’t that one hardcore mean girl on the squad, but with my luck, I’m probably screwed.

Ethan and Lane assault me with numerous questions, and I do my best to answer them through bites of my burger. And mother-lovin’, humpin’ hell, I now know why the line was so long. As I stuff my face, I watch the man in long sleeves, studying his movements and his face. I’m careful to not make eye contact with him. I can tell just from his body language that he’s a closed book and doesn’t want unnecessary attention drawn to him. Unlike Ethan or Lane, who’d probably strip for women ogling them.