Chapter nine

Seriously, how much skill can something like that possibly take? It's not like executing a perfect pirouette or adage or ballonne pas, for goodness sake. That takes years of relentless practice and dedication.

So even though I don't know Roan King personally, he's obviously someone to steer clear of. And not that Mr. Football has any interest in me whatsoever, but after what happened with Finn last year, I have zero interest in getting tangled up with another jerk.

I mean jock.

Especially some football playing Neanderthal who obviously thinks he's god's gift to the female population of Barnett University.

Ugh.

Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass.

A proposition of a sexual nature from the likes of Roan King… I accept! KingOfCampus.com

With my head bent forward, my caramel colored hair falls over my face like a thick curtain, shielding it from view. Tapping my foot nervously, I wait until Mr. Abs of Steel swaggers his way up front to speak with the professor. Just as I’m about to make a br