Aggro - CoraLee June Page 0,133

in Biology and has not science-d since. She lives in the Dallas, Texas, area with her husband and son, where she has still not adjusted to the heat and wonders why people go outside when there’s perfectly good air-conditioning and snacks inside.

Stalk me too, I mean, if you want to…

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Also By Coralee June & Carrie Gray

Looking to Score

He’s, like, literally the worst.

Oakley Davis is the star running back at our university—and the reason I’ve broken my vow to avoid the college party scene. Thanks to a mix-up with my advisor, I’m now serving my Public Relations internship as a glorified babysitter to the party-hard football players.

Specifically, Oakley.

He’s impossible to manage. His Instagram is full of pictures of him half-naked and drunk, and he’d rather attend parties than practice. His brand needs some serious work, and when he’s not driving me insane, he’s sleeping his way through the entire female population.

But I’m determined. I have plans to graduate a semester early, and nothing or no one will get in my way. I’m a Virgo, after all. Oakley Davis might be a privileged, cocky football star, but I’m Amanda Matthews, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get my A.

I just have to make sure I don’t end up falling in love with the idiot, first.

Chapter One

My breakfast consisted of Klonopin and Diet Coke.

I didn’t need an alarm clock. My quarter-life crisis woke me up at the ass crack of dawn with a slight panic attack and a craving for carbs. I didn’t give in, though my damn mouth watered at the idea of a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese. I ignored the temptation and feasted on cardio instead. Fucking delicious. And for dessert, I did an online manifestation meditation video guided by an Instagram influencer with big breasts and a bleached smile. She was good. By the end of the video, she had me half-convinced I could manifest the perfect life and the perfect man.

Apparently, if you genuinely believed that your pussy deserved to be thoroughly fucked, then mother universe or Oprah would dropkick that motherfucker right into your lap. And I lived by that.

I rolled my razorblade-thin shoulders back, threw my strawberry blonde hair up in a bun, and slipped on an oversized shirt and some navy LivyLu yoga pants before going out into the kitchen to greet my roommate, Shelby. “Morning,” I said in a painfully cheerful way.

Shelby was barely awake and fumbling through the kitchen in search of coffee. “Why did I move in with a morning person?” she groaned.

“Because you are a strong, independent woman who likes to challenge herself,” I replied sarcastically. “You took a chance on a Craigslist ad, and the universe gave you me. It’s quite serendipitous.”

“You’re watching those manifestation meditations again, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I’m going to manifest a more positive conversation by not responding to that.” Shelby and I had a unique relationship. When I transferred to the University of Texas for the summer semester, there weren’t any housing options for a last-minute transfer student. I checked Craigslist on a whim and ended up moving in with her the next week. We were opposites in every way that counted. She was a few years older than me, and a local photographer. Shelby was impulsive and disorganized. She wasn’t unmotivated, per se, she just couldn’t keep set on one particular thing. She changed her mind like the Texas weather and had the financial freedom of a trust fund to do whatever she wanted.

She didn’t even need a roommate. Her skyrise condo in the heart of Austin was easily worth more than my entire undergrad degree. She just wanted the adventure of “sharing her life with someone” and got me. I wasn’t sure if she regretted that whim or not, but I’d take advantage of my oversized room and walk-in closet for as long as she’d let me. I wasn’t exactly hurting for money either. My dad was an executive for Plotify, a music streaming service, but he wanted me to get at least a semblance of the college experience—which meant a healthy dose of ramen noodles and a strict allowance every month.

“Well, if we’re talking about the universe, Mercury must be in Gatorade or something, because my vibes are all off. Like literally, I ran out of batteries for my vibrator last night and I’m ovulating, so you know I’m horny as hell,” Shelby said. I rubbed my temples. There was so much wrong with that statement that I didn’t know where