Free Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) by Abigail Graham

a bit of a belly and has gray peppered through his blond hair and beard, and generally looks like he eats rocks and shits diamonds. The other one is pretty much the same except younger and clean-shaven.
    They could probably fold me up and stuff me in a suitcase if they felt like it.
    Not that it keeps me from looking longingly at Ana. I rip a piece of paper from my notebook, peel off the little hangly things along the torn edge, and scrawl a note on it.

    T o : The most beautiful princess on campus

    F rom : The biggest dick on campus

    T ext me . Here’s my number.

    N eatly and carefully , I fold it into a paper airplane, then knock my arm back and throw it down at Ana before her goons can jump me.
    The paper airplane sails down the stadium rows, lofting in a graceful arc.
    Then the point sticks in her hair. Anastasia sputters and snatches it, almost ripping it as she spreads it open.
    Her guards are already stomping toward me.
    "Leave him alone," she says, her sweet voice ringing crystal clear across the lecture hall.
    They look at each other and step back.
    Anastasia reads the note, looks at me, and then crumples it in both hands, mashing it into a tiny ball so tight I swear if she choked it any harder, it would turn into a rock. Then she casually tosses it into the wastebasket next to the lectern.
    "Three points," I yell.
    "Leave me alone," she shouts back.
    "You're too beautiful to be alone. Marry me."
    Ana scowls and turns around, pointedly ignoring me.
    "Boy," Giganto Guard Number One warns.
    "I'm not your boy, Ragnar," I tell him, then sit back in my seat.
    More students file in, filling the hall. Grandolf arrives two minutes after the official start of class, and half the male students watch her prodigious endowments bounce as she walks down the steps on ridiculous spike pumps. The other half crane their heads to watch her hips sway from side to side.
    She drops her briefcase on the table and looks around with a grin, but it flickers a bit when her gaze passes over Princess Anastasia.
    Did I imagine that?
    Her TAs, who are coincidentally all male and fit, run up and down the lecture hall distributing papers. I'm one of the history majors, so they know me by sight. I look over my assignment, see the A+, and I am completely unsurprised. It's junior varsity crap, review questions from the textbook so all the non-majors taking the class as a requirement can pass. I've already studied this in more depth in more advanced courses.
    Anastasia happens to catch my eye.
    Okay, I'm staring at her.
    She holds her paper in trembling hands. The same assignment I did. No plus, no minus. An F is just an F. There is no qualifier.
    It's hard to see from four rows up, but a little wet spot appears on her paper, then another. Then it's sealed when she balls up her sleeve in her hand and dabs at her eyes.
    She's crying. She's fucking crying .
    Oh no, that will not do. That will not do at all.
    Grandolf turns to address the class. Or rather, face the class. She's watching Ana, and I see that faint hint of a wolf grin on her lips. Not the "I want Jason's cock" wolf grin, the other one. The mean, nasty one she gets because she enjoys humiliating students.
    That's kind of her thing. Guy? Potential moustache ride. Girl? Especially a young, pretty one? Grandolf probably fingers herself when she flunks them. Ana would be a prime target.
    I grit my teeth and clench my fists.
    While Grandolf grumbles to herself about the overhead projector, I bag up my shit and walk down to the front row, then down to where Ana sits.
    "Hey," I say in a soft voice. "There's a couple empty seats in the sixth row. Come sit with me."
    She looks up with red eyes, her face an icy mask. "I'm fine where I am."
    "Come on. Please?"
    She seems a little shocked to hear me use the magic word. She blinks, and makes a half turn, without actually looking at the Viking Twins.
    "Look, I didn't ask you to go to a hotel room with me. It's over there." I point at the empty seats.