The Quarterback’s Broken Girl

Elise’s POV

All men terrify me. I have never confessed this to anyone, and I have never asked for help. The fear started the night I was assaulted. Nobody knows, and a part of me is convinced nobody would ever believe me.

Why would they? I am not the type of girl who stands out. Small, quiet, brown-haired, the girl who hides behind books while everyone else lives their lives. Invisible. Forgettable. Yet it was one of the most admired football players on campus who forced himself on me.

Why him? Why me?

Those questions burn inside me, but they are also the reason I stay silent. Who would believe me if I said Julian Ashford shoved me against a wall and took what never belonged to him?

Even now, the memory makes my stomach knot. It happened at my very first frat party, before the semester even began. He was drunk, but that does not excuse anything. What he did was monstrous.

And somehow I carry the shame, as though I am the guilty one. Sometimes it feels so heavy I want to collapse and cry, but crying never changes the truth. If I ever spoke it aloud, I know most people would not take my side.

So, I stay quiet. I bury it deep. I tell myself I will survive without help, because therapy is too expensive and there are people in the world suffering far worse than me.

At least I am not pregnant. I checked again and again, terrified. Maybe this fear will fade one day, maybe I will learn to breathe around men again.

But for now, I sit in the library pretending my thoughts are not loud enough to drown me. My laptop hums as I type, working on the assignment our professor assigned. He paired us up so we would make new friends, but my partner has not shown up.

Honestly, I am relieved. I was supposed to be paired with Damien Lancaster, and while every girl squealed with excitement at the thought, I wanted no part of it.

Damien Lancaster. Even his name carries weight. Girls describe him with every cliché—gorgeous, tall, broad, impossible to resist. One girl even begged the professor to switch places with me just to be near him. I will never understand why.

I stretch, covering a yawn, and decide to pack up. Hunger gnaws at me, and maybe my roommates left something untouched in the fridge. I reach for my laptop, ready to slip away unnoticed.

That is when I hear the sound of heavy steps.

“Hey, you!”

I turn slowly, my chest clenching.

A towering figure strides straight toward me. His grey hoodie pulls tight across shoulders built like stone, and I have to tilt my head back to meet the intensity in his gaze.

Football. Wrestling. Something brutal that demands power. He has to be at least six-foot-five, maybe more. He looks like he belongs in a movie, not in this quiet room.

And he is breathtaking in a way that steals my breath before I realise I am holding it.

I stand frozen, staring like a fool while my mind empties completely.

“All mine is,” he says, his voice deep and commanding, rolling through the space like it owns it.

My lips part, but no words come.

“You are Elise Hawthorne, right?”

I swallow hard. “Yes.”

His gaze holds mine with a force that makes my skin prickle, and then he steps closer, close enough that his hoodie almost brushes against me. The table presses into my back as the air between us disappears.

“To think I would find you in the library,” he mutters, almost like he is speaking to himself. “Looks like my luck is finally good.”

I cannot stop staring. His chest looks impossibly wide, and he carries himself with the kind of confidence that borders on arrogance. He may be the most intimidating man I have ever met.

“Are you even listening to me?”

No, I am too distracted by the sight of you. “Y-yes…”

He sighs, frustrated. “The professor gave you my number. Why did you not text or call me? We are supposed to work together.”

“Uh…”

“What was that?” His voice drops lower as he leans closer, pressing me further against the table. My pulse races so hard I can hear it in my ears.

“Wait. Are you slow or something?”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He tilts his head, studying me like he is dissecting every part of me, and I hold my breath. A rush of fear races through me, what if he actually hurts me?

I stay completely still, unable to move under his stare.

“Are you on drugs?”

I shake my head quickly.

“Then why have you not called?”

“C-called?” The word tumbles from my mouth unevenly.

“Yes, Elise!” His voice booms, towering over me like he owns the space. “We are supposed to work together. Explain yourself. Why did you not text or call me? Say something already!”

Work together?

“I…”

His eyes narrow, his patience thinning. “Louder. Speak like a normal person. Nobody can hear you when you mumble.”

I swallow hard, fighting the sting in my eyes as tears threaten to fall. My tongue drags nervously across my lips while doubt churns inside me. Could he have mistaken me for someone else?

“I am… sorry. But who exactly are you?”

The moment I ask, his arms drop from his chest. He exhales through clenched teeth, stepping back and finally giving me room to breathe.

Even with the distance between us, I cannot stop staring. He is massive, the kind of size that makes you wonder if he was raised on raw meat and iron instead of food.

He is enormous. And dangerously attractive, though not in a comforting way. He looks like the kind of man who could either guard your life or end it, and that thought sends shivers crawling up my spine.

Without another word, he strides past me and drags out the chair opposite mine. He sits with his expression flat, his lips forming a single command. “Sit.”

My heart stumbles as I blink at him. “Are you… serious?”

The way his jaw works, I can tell he is holding himself back. “Seriously? Do you really not know who I am?”

I shake my head.

“There is a poster of me hanging all over this campus, and you have never seen me?”

Another shake.

He groans and drags his hand through his sandy hair, frustration written in every line of his face. “Unbelievable. I am Damien Lancaster, your project partner. What is wrong with you? Do you have trouble speaking?”

No, nothing is wrong with me. I am just terrified of men. Especially men like Damien Lancaster. Unfortunately, he is my partner.

Wait. Did he just say he has a poster on campus? Why would he, never mind. I should probably answer before he loses patience again.

In a shaky voice, I manage, “No… I can talk fine.”

“Then speak up, alright? I am not failing this class because you refuse to use your voice.” His gaze slides to my laptop with sharp intent, like he already owns it. “What have you got so far? And why are you still standing?”

I lower myself into the chair, every movement slow, my body weak with nerves. Somehow I form words. “I have not gotten that far yet.”

Damien rolls his eyes and drags my laptop toward himself with one large hand. He studies the screen with a hum, scanning every detail.

My pulse skips and stutters, my breath unsteady. Being this close to him makes me dizzy, like my body does not know how to exist in his presence.

He arches a brow. “Who in their right mind picks Sweden for a presentation when there are so many better options?”

“Uh…”

“And this guy in the picture, what the hell is he doing? Is he skinny-dipping?” He cuts his eyes back at me, expression unreadable. “You look sweet and harmless, but maybe you are not. Nobody can be trusted these days.”

What? Is he seriously talking about the man cliff-jumping into the water in one of my slides?

“And by the way, it is Norway. Not Sweden.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but just as quickly his hard stare returns.

“I knew that. The flag gave it away.”

Yeah right. Something tells me he had no idea.

“Good,” I mutter beneath my breath.

At least I was right. I am not completely clueless.

For some ridiculous reason, I almost smile. Damien Lancaster is… different.

His eyes narrow as if daring me to contradict him. “I was testing you.” Then he points two fingers at his eyes and back at mine. “Just making sure you are focused.”

Focused? Is this guy for real?

I study him carefully, half convinced Damien might actually be unhinged, but I know better than to say that aloud. He is the type of man who could crush me without effort, so silence feels safer.

“Are you not happy with Norway as the topic?”

Norway is stunning. How could anyone not be happy with it?

“No, Norway is fine.” He pushes the laptop back across the table, and my heart thunders so fast it hurts. “I will overlook the fact you never called or texted. You did well enough. But tomorrow, we are walking here straight after class. Together. Understood?”

My lips part, but no sound comes fast enough. His eyes flash with impatience.

“Do you understand, Elise?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Y-yes.”

His gaze drags over me in one slow sweep before locking with mine again, heavy with dominance. Damien carries himself like a man used to control, used to people bending to his will. It is in every move he makes, every glance, every ounce of force radiating off him.

“Louder.”

“Yes!” My voice cracks under the weight of his stare.

“I cannot hear you.”

I pull in a shaky breath and push the words out stronger. “Yes. We will walk here tomorrow.”

His eyes narrow like he is sealing a deal. “Together.”

Bossy does not even begin to cover it.

“Together,” I echo softly.

“And you will not stand me up.”

As if I would dare. “I will not stand you up.”

“Finally. Loud enough to hear.” Damien rises to his full height, towering over me, still not offering even the smallest smile. “Keep working on the presentation.”

That is it? He is just leaving?

I find my voice again. “Where… where are you going?”

His brow arches. “You are not hungry? I am grabbing us a pizza from down the block. Half an hour. You will still be here.”

Before I can protest, he strides off without hesitation.

I stare after him, stunned.

The arrogance of that man.

You will still be here. Seriously?

A cold shiver runs down my back. Men like him, men who act like giving orders is their natural right, scare me. Damien Lancaster scares me. He looks dangerous, yet so striking it leaves me vulnerable. Another tremor creeps up my spine, and I cannot picture ever feeling safe around him.