Page 71 of King of Campus

I nod but can’t say I don’t feel conflicted about it. That’s not really fair to everyone else who has to work their asses off to pull good grades. Even though Roan isn’t taking advantage of professors who are willing to hand out A’s just for being a top recruit here on campus, I’m sure there are other student athletes who do get by because of it.

Once again, it’s slammed home just how wrong I was about him.

Angling my body towards his, I finally whisper, “I won’t tell anyone about it.” Even though it goes against everything I believe in, I don’t want to break my word to him. “I promise.”

His eyes hold mine for a long moment before finally sliding away. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything to you. I’m not looking to jam anyone up.”


“I know… But it’s not right.”

Nodding, he acknowledges my words. Yanking off his ball cap, he plows his long fingers through his dark hair before pulling it back over his head so his face is somewhat shielded from view.

Our extra-large pizza arrives as we sit in silence. Once we both take a slice, the mood at our table slowly begins to lighten. Not really caring that Roan is sitting across from me, I take a huge bite. My eyes flutter shut as the perfect mixture of crust, sweet yet zesty sauce along with pepperoni, mushrooms, and sausage slams into my taste buds. I think a little moan of appreciation slips out of my mouth.

God, but I’ve missed this!

Needless to say, the food in Paris was definitely a culinary experience. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. Fresh baked pain au chocolat (croissants filled with dark chocolate) in the morning along with un café noisette (an espresso with a little cream), croquet monsieur (a grilled ham and gruyere cheese with a fried or poached egg on top) for lunch, crepes which they sell right out on the street, and escargot. Some people may not like them, but I love escargot and there was a tiny cafe a few blocks from school where I would go all the time.

So, yeah… I ate well while I was away. It’s fairly amazing I didn’t pack on a ton of weight. But then again, when you’re in Paris, you’re hopping on the metro and walking almost everywhere.

But this pizza… I’ve really missed it. I can’t help but shove another huge bite into my mouth before savoring all the wonderful flavors.

Like a total glutton, I all but gobble up the first slice within a matter of minutes. I hate to say it, but I’m not even aware of Roan sitting across from me. I’m in a little place called pizza nirvana. Just as I’m reaching for a second piece, my eyes collide with his. He’s just sitting there staring at me with a look of astonishment on his face.

When I quirk a brow, he finally says, “I’ve never seen anyone polish off a slice like that and I eat with three hundred pound dudes who play football.”

Unable to help myself, I start chuckling. I’m not a shy eater. Never have been. I have a fast metabolism that Lexie regularly talks smack about because I can eat practically anything and never gain an ounce while she merely looks at cake and gains five pounds. Although, I think that’s a lie, because that girl can polish off cake like nobody’s business. Especially chocolate. But I also know it’s all the hours I spend in the studio that helps to burn the calories and keep me slim. And yeah, I’m not going to lie- it probably has a lot to do with genetics as well.

Unashamed, I shrug my shoulders. “I’m hungry.”

“Clearly.” He shakes his head before taking a big bite and swallowing it. “And here I thought I’d have leftovers to take home for breakfast.”

“Oh, hell no. If there are leftovers, I’m calling dibs,” I shoot back quickly.

“Maybe we should just order another pizza to go.”

I give him a little wink before taking another huge bite. “Make it two.”

He laughs before we both go back to polishing off the extra-large pizza he ordered. When I’m finally stuffed, I finish off my water before sitting back. There’s no denying that my belly hurts just a bit. I can’t believe I scarfed down three slices of pizza and I did it all in front of Roan. Most girls probably can’t eat anything more than a few salad leaves and a carrot stick and here I go and wolf down three huge pieces in the blink of an eye.

But you know what?

I don’t care. I like to eat. As long as I keep myself healthy and in shape, it doesn’t matter. I kind of wonder if seeing me stuff my face is a total turn off for him. Curiosity gets the better of me before I finally start fishing around for an answer. “I bet when you take girls out, they barely eat anything at all.”

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