1
ROXY
I’m having a baby.In about seven months, I’m popping out Ezra Thomas’s child.
If he hadn’t been sticking his dick in half the girls on campus, I probably wouldn’t be freaking out right now.
He doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet.
But given how that asshole won’t return my calls, I’m likely doing this solo.
A basement party at some frat house isn’t the place to have a panic attack, but between the sweaty bodies and the loud music, I’m starting to freak out.
I push off the exposed wood beam and make my way to the back door.
“Roxy. Wait up.” Billy Babcock, resident bad boy and notorious flirt, sidles up to me. “Where ya going, biscuit? The festivities just got started.” He tosses his muscular arm over my shoulder and shoots me a sexy smile.
My heart kicks in my chest, which I ignore because a pregnant girl probably shouldn’t flirt with her best friend, who’snother baby daddy.
“I’m going to head home.”
Billy turns me to face him. I finally give in and look into his beautiful eyes.
There’s no question about it—Billy is a drop-dead gorgeous man. Confident on the verge of arrogant. Cocky but sweet. He has dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes fringed with thick lashes, muscles for days, and just the right amount of scruff on his rugged chin. And don’t get me started on those sexy tattoos all over his thick arms.
But I don’t mess around with players anymore, not after what happened with Ezra.
Billy leans close enough that I can appreciate his spicy cologne. “It’s too early to take off. We just won a National Championship,” he says with cheek, like I don’t know.
Kind of hard to miss when his coach is my father. “I’m not in the mood for a party.”
Billy’s a six-foot-two-inch defensive back. He’s broad. Strong. Fearless on the field. Has quick feet. Could leap over me if he wanted to and easily bench-press three times my body weight. All reasons my father should love him.
If only Billy’s mouth wasn’t his worst enemy. This boy is always saying shit he shouldn’t.
Coach isn’t a fan.
I brush pizza crumbs off his Broncos t-shirt. “I’m tired.”
Billy’s usual carefree expression goes serious in a heartbeat, and he lowers his voice. “You feeling okay?”
I stare down at my shoes. “No. I mean, physically, I’m fine, but inside I’m...” I don’t know how to explain the suffocation clawing at my throat right now.
“You’re freaking out.”
I nod, grateful he knows my secret. Not many people do.
He squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. Get some fresh air.”
“Are you sure you want to leave the party?” At least three girls are eyeing him right now.
For some reason, the thought of him hooking up with some random woman makes me bristle.
He glances around and shrugs. “The football house is having a party tomorrow. And maybe another one the night after that.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “You heathen. Of course you are.”
He winks. “See, you’re already feeling better.”
