Release Blitz, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Football Royalty by Eden Finley
Franklin University Series, Book 8
If you never fooled around with someone of the same gender, did you even go to high school?
PEYTON
My whole life I’ve had the pressure of being Marcus Talon and Shane Miller’s football prodigy. I’ve been destined to follow in my NFL-playing fathers’ footsteps since the day I was born. I usually thrive under pressure, but as senior year looms, it all gets too much, and I need an outlet. The last place I thought I’d find my release is at Levi Vanderbilt’s graduation party. In his bed. With him.
It’s a one-time thing. An experimentation. And while it was fun, we agree that being with guys isn’t for either of us. I’m happy to accept that until he turns up in California.
I haven’t had to think about him for four years, but now I can’t get him out of my head.
LEVI
Coming to Franklin University for grad school to follow a boy I hooked up with once is the stupidest thing I could have done.
We said that high school didn’t mean anything, but the truth is, that night made me realize who I truly am, and since then, I’ve been trying to find that sense of freedom again.
I’m hoping it can be with him, but everything I’ve heard around campus points to Peyton not having the same life-changing revelation I did.
And if that’s the case, did I just move across the country for a straight guy?
Kill me now.
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Brady knocks on my door and then points his thumb behind him. “Was that Levi Vanderbilt from back home?”
“Yep. He, uh, goes here now.”
Brady looks like he’s trying not to smile.
I sigh. “Go ahead and say it. We all know you and our dads are more obsessed with my one hookup in high school than I was.” I never confided in my family about the whole liking my first and only experience with dick. I kept up the no big deal charade for so long that I almost believed it myself.
And then I saw him again.
He throws up his hands. “I’m not going to say anything.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“But I am going to do this.” He starts dancing and singing, “Peyton’s got a boyfriend.”
“Real mature, Bray.”
“Eww, don’t Bray me, Pey.”
I laugh. “Ah, but you forget, I don’t mind my nickname … Bray.”
“Do you think our dads wanted us to be twins? Pey and Bray? What kind of fucked-up Mother Goose, kids with rhyming names, is that shit?”
“I think they did it literally to piss you off. When you were born, they stood over you and said, ‘Let’s fuck this kid up by giving him a cutesy nickname.’”
“Now that you mention it, them naming us after famous football players who came before them is off brand for those two. I’m surprised they didn’t actually name us Shane Miller 2.0 and Marcus Talon 5000.”
“Why does Dad get the 5000?”
“Because he’s the most awesome one. Duh. Just ask him.” My brother points his thumb behind him again, and I freeze.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, that’s why I left class early. You know, the class you didn’t go to because you were too busy being in your room with Levi Vanderbilt? They texted me to meet them outside class. They’re here. In our living room. I tell ya, though, I’m so glad the lecture halls don’t have windows like Montgomery Prep did. Remember when they’d turn up and press themselves against the side of our classroom, pulling faces?”
I wave my hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, rewind. You’re saying they’re here. In our living room. Where Levi just—”
“Left? Or … tried to?” He cups his ear. “I think I can hear them talking.”
“Motherfucker.” I charge past him.
His words fade as I practically run, but I still hear him say, “Today is so much fun.”
To my horror, when I rush into the living room, Levi’s standing there, his gaze ping-ponging around the room while my dads ask him relentless question after question without letting Levi get a word in.
“Levi, aren’t you late for your next class?” I approach them where they’re standing near the entryway and push Levi toward the door.
“Come on,” Dad says, “everyone can cut class every now and then.” Then his blue eyes that match mine stare me down. “Right, Pey? I was just telling Levi here that he looks good in your clothes.”
I’d argue how they know they’re mine, but considering Levi’s wearing a FU football shirt, I can’t really pull that off. “We had an accident.”
“Accidental no clothes … situation?” Pop asks.
I close my eyes and chant to myself. They’re my parents. They gave me life. They’re embarrassing as fuck, but I love them.
“A coffee accident,” I clarify. “Apparently, I think coffee looks better on clothes than it tastes.”
“It was my fault,” Levi says. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
And even though we’re telling the complete truth, my dads both look like they don’t believe us. Their gazes flit between us, as if trying to read something deeper.
Dad turns to Levi. “We didn’t even know you transferred to FU. Your dad never mentioned it.”
“Oh. Umm. Yeah.” Levi rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, law school. Going to take the bar in California.”
“And you chose FU law.” Dad’s sentence sounds like a question, but I don’t think it is. More like an accusation. Like “Why FU when its law program is definitely not Vanderbilt-worthy.” Or “And your father let you do that?”
“I should go.” Levi turns to me. “Thanks for the clothes. I’ll return them to you … uh, another time.” It’s as if I can read his mind: when your dads aren’t visiting.
Levi beelines it to the door, and my dads wave and give very enthusiastic “Nice seeing you” and “I’m sure we’ll see you around.”
Once the door is shut behind Levi, I let out a breath. “You had to be embarrassing, didn’t you?”
Brady points at them. “Have you met our dads?”
We move into the living room, and Brady and I sit on the couch while our dads share a single armchair, Dad sitting in Pop’s lap. Because, you know, PDA and parental affection add to the torture of them being here.
But no one says anything. They all just keep staring at me.
I throw up my hands. “What? None of you have been friends with someone you had an awkward hookup with four years ago?”
“No,” they all say in unison.
“Well, I must be a more mature human than all of you.”
And now they’re laughing.
Fucking hell.
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