I dropped the phone back to the floor and cuddled back against Drake. My movements must have woken him up because his arms tightened around me. His stomach growled loudly, making me laugh.

“We missed our normal lunch time at the café,” I said.

“Was worth it though,” he responded.

“Tell that to your stomach! Sounds like you need food,” I teased.

“Worked up an appetite,” he said with a smirk on his face. “We can grab lunch downstairs if you want.”

“Is that okay?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about eating in the frat house. I’d visited Jackson here over the last couple years but hadn’t ever eaten with the guys.

“You’re with me,” he replied, as though that was explanation enough. I guessed nobody would question him about me being there, too.

“Sounds perfect. Then I won’t miss my afternoon class, too.”

He smacked my butt, but not too hard. “Better get moving if you want to make it in time.”

I hopped out of the bed and pulled my clothes back on. I glanced in the mirror and realized my hair was an absolute mess. As I finger-combed it, Drake came up behind me. He was dressed, and he rested his hands on my hips as he watched me in the mirror while I fixed my hair. “Can you make it to my game this weekend?”

I turned in his arms so we were facing each other. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I’d be a horrible girlfriend if I didn’t show up when you’re going to win our school a championship.”

“Shit, I hope so. That would make my dad a very happy man.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I have you. I’m already happy,” he said with a sexy smirk.

chapter 11

We didn’t have far to travel for the American Collegiate Rugby Championship match this year, which was a good thing since Drake’s team made it through the single elimination tournament a couple weekends ago and then won our conference title last weekend. It was their first year as an NCAA team, and their success was kind of a shock to everyone. They’d always had a good club team, but they were playing against schools from across the country with really competitive teams this season. I was a little biased, but I couldn’t help but think that having Drake transfer here for the team was part of the reason for their unexpected success.

Drake had to travel with the team, so Aubrey and Jackson came with me. We hit the road early Saturday morning to make the four-hour trek to Elkhart, Indiana’s Moose Rugby Grounds. Notre Dame’s club team was hosting the game. Jackson borrowed an SUV from his dad so we’d have four-wheel drive just in case it snowed again. The bad part about Jackson driving was that he controlled the stereo and wouldn’t budge on letting us change the music from his rock ‘n’ roll to anything else. I was riding in the passenger seat and moved to turn the volume down, but he swatted my hand away.

“Jackson’s rules,” he reminded.

“No fiddling with the radio,” Aubrey and I said in unison, used to his tyranny on road trips.

“You want something, you ask for it,” he said.

Aubrey looked up at us with pleading eyes. “Please turn down the music, bro. My head is pounding back here.”

“Yeah, Jackson. We’re not even asking you to change it. Just turn it down a little. Please,” I asked.

“Since you both asked so nicely,” he teased as he turned the dial down a few notches.

“Whew! Now we can actually talk without screaming to hear each other!” Aubrey exclaimed, leaning over the console to see us better. “I’m bored back here.”

“I’d offer to join you, but I don’t think you want to watch me hurl for entertainment,” I joked. I didn’t do very well on long road trips in the back seat. I usually ended up getting car sick.

“Yeah, I still don’t understand how you can fly a frickin’ plane without any problems, but if we throw you in the back seat of a car for too long you get sick. There’s something wrong with that,” Aubrey replied, shuddering a little at the mention of vomit.

I’d only done it a couple times, but any sign of puke made Aubrey sick, too. So we didn’t take any more chances after the second time with her chain reaction. I now rode in front any time we were in the car for more than half an hour. I flipped her a sassy grin. “Sucks to be you.”

She punched me in the arm. “Don’t be a bitch,” she complained.

“Enough of that, you two. We’re almost there. I’m not going to listen to your whining the rest of the way,” Jackson said.