I Hate Football Players 3 | 18+

Chapter 77: Harper

Fuck, my life is not how I'd expected it would be by now.

From the 'grow up already,' lecture Dad had given me, which included a list of opinions the old man had held to himself for the past two years, to the sickening presence of Jake Harrison inches in front of me, my junior year's first semester was halfway over and already sucked balls.

And there is nothing good about eating the hairy avocadoes.

Nothing.

They're fucking disgusting.

Dad apparently decided breakfast a few weeks ago was the most appropriate time and, within one conversation, unleashed his opinions repressed under twenty years of leniency on me. From "Start to look more professional, less rainbow-colored hipster, Harper," to "Have you ever dated someone exclusively, Harper?" to "Figure where you are going in life or I'll figure it out for you," Dad lashed all of them out at me.

I sat at his kitchen table while half my Lucky Charms fell out of my wide open mouth and went... somewhere, I still wasn't sure. Not one lost for words ever, I just silently and numbly nodded my head like a fucking bobblehead doll.

Even after weeks went by, I still had no clue what I wanted for a career. Unlike Ellie, I was a mediocre student at best. My patience with school was limited and tolerance for reading, memorization, and studying less so. I carried an almost 3.0 GPA at Cabrillo, which was respectable enough. However, across all twenty community college classes I'd taken in my first two years there, not a damn one interested me enough that I pursued another class, let alone career, on any subject.

Math, no.

History? Fuck no.

Science? Double penetration fuck no.

Anything ending in '-ology'? Pop in a third for a spit roast fuck fuck fuck no.

Not even the 'Let's see how much I can embarrass Brody with my sexual innuendo vocabulary' game I'd played on the plane ride up here, or space away from California, had broken me out of my shitty mood. While I saw the appeal of Grace Hightower's warm, outgoing, and more than slightly oversharing personality, the sappy, lovesick eyes Dad shot at that MILF had still made me more nauseous than the plane's light turbulence.

I'll say one thing about Grace Hightower... At least she's distracting him from how much of a disappointment I am.

Prior to now, I'd assumed Dad largely ignored me while he buried himself in work case after case. I wasn't sure how he knew I'd reverted my social life into meaningless one-night stands but I'd been careful every time. I had a loose system of rules in place that, until now, I'd thought had been fool-proof.

Never take anyone home.

Wash the sex smells off.

IUD for the win, but condoms every time.

Fuck and chuck.

While I wanted nothing serious, which I told every single guy beforehand, almost all of them got attached. I'd considered another ride on the dick of the few that seemed as equally detached afterwards, but my sole reason for 'once is enough, twice is too messy' stood inches from me with a grin my fingers itched to smack off his stupid, smug face.

Fuck, he's even more attractive. Why. Why!?

Jake's dark brown hair curled around the top of his ears and his equally dark brown eyes were hooded and suggestive. Full, pale pink lips curled up into that familiar smirk that curled my hands into tight fists. At the sight of him, my body erupted into an internal war that, for now, remained self-contained beneath my skin. My vagina led the 'fuck him anywhere, please' argument against my brain's 'you're better than that now, Harper' mantra.