[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
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Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despises. He's arr...
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We arrived in front of a sizable two-story house painted in faded purple and dark green. It showcased prominent Victorian influences, and surprisingly, it wasn't as ugly as it should have been.
The front garden was teeming with clusters of college kids, busy sipping from red solo cups and cans of Budweiser. You could tell who the freshmen were immediately.
Freshmen always tended to overdress, not having learned yet that eventually, everyone valued comfort and casual style overlooking perfect. No one wanted to do the walk of shame in last night's heels. That's precisely why my simple loose shirt and purple leggings helped me blend right in. My hoodies often achieved the same effect because if there was something I despised more than tuna and mustard, it was standing out.
"It's really busy," I noted, taking in our surroundings.
"The football house tends to always be busy. It's why I moved out. The lack of sleep, too much drinking, and constant partying was starting to affect my performance on the field." Tristan put the car in park, unclipping his and my seatbelt.
"Wait, you lived here?"
"For my first year, yeah. But like I said, I needed to leave if I was going to take football more seriously." He stepped out of the car, "Wait a sec, I'll open it."
I was confused until I realized he meant the door. And then I contemplated whether I wanted him to open the door for me. No one had ever done that, and it felt somewhat strange and lazy on my part. But before I could settle on my stance, he opened the door. I decided to just go with it.
"Thanks," I said as I stepped out.
"Ready?"
I nodded, looking around nervously.
"Great, then let's go. We'll only stay half an hour," he said, already making his way up the pavement.
People had already started to recognize him, pointing and staring as we walked up the pathway to the front door. A couple of people threw out congratulations, and Tristan grinned his thanks, nodding at them. I dropped my gaze when their eyes fell on me.
One of the guys at the door recognized him right away, a smile splitting across his face. "Dude, you were fucking awesome today. You and Mitchell absolutely killed it."
"Thanks, man." They went in for a bro hug, patting each other's backs.
"Want anything to drink? I can hook you up with anything." The guy asked, lifting his can of beer.
"I'm good, man. Thanks," he said, glancing at me to see if I wanted anything and I shook my head.
Tristan exchanged a few parting words with the guy before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close to his side. I briefly considered objecting, worried about the impression it might give people, but I soon understood his reasons when we entered the house.
