Winning Bracket by Annabeth Albert

Author:Annabeth Albert
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Erotic Romance
Published: 2014-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

TO: Oliver Marshall [email protected]

FROM: Edwin Schultz [email protected]

SUBJECT: Noise

I’m TRYING to be understanding, but the floor is VIBRATING. And I can hear cheering all the way down here.

P.S. On call tonight and churning out a paper, but feel free to message if you need help cleaning up later. Or whatever. When does the game end again?

****

TO: Edwin Schultz [email protected]

FROM: Oliver Marshall [email protected]

SUBJECT: WE MIGHT BE GOING TO THE FINAL FOUR!!!!!!

And Eddie! You are a HERO! Your bracket predicted us going this far! Even mine didn’t! Come up and watch the last few minutes of the game with me? We’ve got a big crowd and guys totally want to talk to you about your metric!

P.S. I am sure I can think of something I need.

P.P.S. Game ends when we WIN! COME WATCH!

****

TO: Oliver Marshall [email protected]

FROM: Edwin Schultz [email protected]

SUBJECT: Noise!!!!

OLLIE!!! What is going on up there and why aren’t you answering your phone???

****

Edwin looked at his phone for the sixteenth time as he bounded up the stairs. Ollie was going to be freaking pissed when Edwin showed up, but Campus Security had just called about a possible disturbance. And the roar from the second floor was stadium-level loud. Guys crowded around the doorway to the lounge, and Edwin had to push through them, hoping to find…

Oh, fresh sweet hell.

Nothing in four years of dorm living and a week of RA training had prepared him for the sight that greeted him. The lounge was packed with bodies—very drunken, very loud bodies. Half of them appeared to be shirtless. A bulky guy in a Cathia T-shirt tossed a chair across the room, and a trio of girls were dancing on the counter in the kitchenette. All of the couches were upturned with guys standing on them and…

Wait.

They were short a couch. The lounge usually had four, industrial, sturdy blue couches that had resided there long before Edwin and Ollie, but one was missing. And the window was open, letting in a chilly April breeze while more dudes stood around the window and cheered.

An obviously drunk guy Edwin didn’t recognize started chanting. “Next! Next! Who’s next?”

“This one!” A crowd of guys dragged another couch to the window.

“I want to ride it!” A skinny redheaded girl Edwin had never seen before charged up to the guys and hopped up on the couch.

“Oh hell no.” Edwin charged forward and plucked her off the couch with a strength he hadn’t known he had. “No one touches this couch.”

The first drunk guy whirled on Edwin. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the RA of Gilmore House. And I’m the guy waiting for campus security to arrive.”

“Who fucking called the cops?” someone else yelled.

“Who cares? We won!” Shawn from Ollie’s floor, also likely drunk, waddled over to Edwin. “Eddie! Man!”

“Edwin,” he corrected Shawn for like the sixtieth time that year. “Where’s Oliver?”

“He went with Tyrone back to his room.”

“He did what?” Edwin saw stars. Literally. Dancing patterns of light floating in front of his face, clouding his vision. Of course. Beer. Ollie.

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