“I’m a guy, and as a guy, I know what guys want. At least — most, straight, sane guys. And I’m telling you. That guy?” He pointed a finger at where Shawn was playing his set on stage, the bar dim in comparison to where a soft spotlight illuminated him. “He wants a woman of mystery, one who can be his muse, who will be a little hard to get, a little out of his league.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull before I covered Clay’s gargantuan finger with both my hands and shoved it down, quickly glancing at Shawn to make sure he hadn’t seen.

“I can have him eating out of the palm of your hand by Thanksgiving.”

My cheeks were so hot, I was worried they’d singe my hair as it fell over my face. “What makes you think I’d want that?”

Clay just cocked a brow.

Okay, so I’m about as easy to read as a billboard right now.

I chewed the inside of my lip, glancing at Shawn and then back at Clay before I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He barely knows I exist.”

“Another thing I can help with,” he said, sweeping a large hand over himself. “Do you think anyone on this campus could ignore the girl who has Clay Johnson’s attention?”

I rolled my eyes at the cocky insinuation, but couldn’t argue against his point.

It was true.

That massive hunk of muscle and those piercing green eyes had been off the market since Clay walked onto North Boston University’s campus — much to every girl’s dismay. And while he’d been a miserable prick since he and Maliyah broke up, the groupies that followed the team around like flies were begging for even a taste of his affection.

Still…

“He’s a musician,” I pointed out, folding my arms. “He probably couldn’t care less about football.”

And the universe loved to play jokes on me, because at that exact moment, Shawn finished the song he’d been playing, and after strumming his guitar a few times, he spoke right into the mic and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a celebrity here with us tonight. Clay Johnson, NBU’s best safety and a shoe-in for the NFL. Make sure to get your autographs while you can.”

Clay held up a hand in a humble wave as every pair of eyes shot toward us. I ducked and tried to hide my face as Clay ate every second up, throwing a seductive smirk and a wink at a particular table of girls. They quietly whispered to one another with their eyes sweeping over Clay, their smiles eager, all nudging one another like they were picking straws over who would try to talk to him first. I rolled my eyes when one of them not-so-subtly took a video of him on her phone.