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move before it even happens. I have to train hard to do what I do.”
    She scoffs, crossing her arms. “And I don’t?”
    I stand up taller. There’s no way I’m wrong about this. “I’m in the gym five times a week.”
    “So am I. You’re going to stand there and argue that actors aren’t scrutinized over every bit of their appearance? Pound for pound, I’m probably judged more than you are.” 
    “Okay…” I blink, yanked off course by the logic in her reasoning. “But my team counts on me to be in shape. I have to be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there, or we don’t win.”
    “I have to hit every cue, memorize every word of my lines plus  everyone else’s,” she says, her voice steady as a rock. “I have to live and breathe this place for weeks before opening night because if I don’t, then everyone will notice every missed step, every skipped line, and my crew will judge me for it — same as you. You memorize a few plays, you stand out in the field every weekend, and you perform for the crowd. It’s the same thing.”
    “But people respect and admire what I do a lot more than what you do,” I bite.
    Eliza smiles. “Hate to break it to you, Junior, but this auditorium is always sold out. Can you say the same for that stadium out there?”
    I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out. My throat clenches shut, smacked down into submission with the slightest crack of her tongue.
    “It’s the audience that gives it life, isn’t it?” she continues, her tone much softer. Almost comforting, as if she’s nursing a wound. “Grant and I were just rehearsing until you walked in and made it real . Without the crowd out there screaming you on, it’s just a scrimmage, am I right?”
    Total fucking whiplash. “Right…”
    She grins at me again and offers me her bottle of water. “See? Not so different.”
    I take the water, feeling a sudden, dry thirst. “Yeah,” I concede. I twist the cap off and drink a hard sip.
    “By the way… thanks for programming your name into my phone as Big Dick Morgan because that wouldn’t be difficult to explain to my dad or anything…”
    I crack up the instant she says it. “It was funny . You laughed, admit it.”
    “You’re an ass.” She narrows her eyes. “I might have tittered. A little.”
    “I’ll take it.” I hand the bottle back to her. “Shall we?”
    “Depends on where we’re going.”
    “I have a few off-campus ideas,” I tease. “It won’t get back to the coach, I promise.”
    “You sure?” she asks.
    I draw an X across my chest. “Cross my heart.”
    Her eyes fall to my body and I know she’s thinking about earlier. Hell, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since her finger touched my dick. I nearly jerked off the second she left the locker room but I didn’t in favor of saving it for tonight in case she touches it again.
    Who am I kidding? Of course, she’s going to touch it again tonight.
    I’m Junior fucking Morgan.
    “Let’s go,” I say, smiling at the thought of her fingers wrapped around it.

 
    Chapter 6
    Eliza
     
    We step outside into the quad. It’s highly populated tonight, full of people enjoying the warm evening, hanging out and having fun. I pull the hood of my sweater over my head and slide my sunglasses on. The sun is long gone but I can’t risk being seen out with Junior. I even slow down to keep at least two paces behind him on the sidewalk.
    Junior spins around and walks backward with his eyes on me. “Ellie, what the hell are you doing?” he asks, smiling wide.
    “Turn back around,” I snap.
    “You look like you’re casing the place.”
    “I’m not casing , I’m being cautious. ” He stops suddenly and I collide with his thick chest, nearly knocking the sunglasses off my nose. “Junior—”
    “Eliza Pierce!” he shouts. “Watch where you’re going, lady!”
    I jump back, putting several feet of distance between us. “Knock it off!”
    “See?”