Dedication

For all the bold people who read motivational quotes in their spare time and embrace the yoga pants.

About the Book

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.

1

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.