Legal in Georgia

Miles

Nine Years Ago

“Sixteen!?” Sam whistles, “Jesus you just get worse every year!”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me because we’re talking over the phone and not face to face.

“Hey, it’s not even like that man. I actually like her,” I admit to my brother. He is the only person I would admit that to, though. Although the legal age of consent in Georgia is sixteen, it’s still uncommon for a nineteen going on twenty-year-old man to be interested in a teenage girl. We’re not that far apart in age, but something tells me Monroe’s dad wouldn’t exactly jump for joy at his only daughter going out with an older guy.

“You like a lot of women.” Sam snorts.

“This one is different. The first day I met her, I didn’t even think about sleeping with her. I actually liked her personality first.”

“Does she know? Are you sure she even likes you?”

“No, I haven’t told her that I like her and to answer your second question, what’s not to like?” I grin. Sam scoffs in disgust.

“I just hope you know you’re planning on defiling someone’s little angel.”

I gasp in mock outrage. “Samuel Elliot Aaron! I am a gentleman, thank you very much.”

“You are a father’s worst nightmare and you don’t have a shot in hell with this girl so long as she has a father. I have half a mind to track him down and tell him all about you.”

I laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all righteous on me just cause you have a fiancé now.”

My older brother Sam might be twenty five and engaged now, but I remember when I was in he was in college. He’d been just as bad, if not worse than me.

“Whatever man. I can tell you right now, if you break this girl’s heart you may not survive it.”

I roll my eyes again. “Thank you Samuel. I get it!” He chuckles and I hang up the call as I pull into the parking lot behind Rice dorm hall.

Since you need a pre-programmed student ID to use the elevators or open the doors to the staircase to get onto the upper floors, I wait in the small lobby of the dorm. As I text Monroe to let her know that I’m here, I hear a few whispers and when I glance around, girls are huddled together just staring at me.

It’s weird being a D1 football player sometimes. Nearly everyone knows who you are and even though you’re just a college athlete, you’re practically famous. People you’ve never even met know your name and way too much about you. I’ve gone on dates with girls who were so good at social media stalking, they knew personal details that made me consider filing for a restraining order. I’d stopped posting and tweeting so much after that. The last thing I needed was for people to start digging things up about my past.

Don’t get me wrong. When you want to find someone to fuck, it’s a pretty nice perk not having to try hard to get a girl into your bed. But when all you want is to go to the dining hall and eat in peace, it gets annoying really fast when you have people just staring and whispering like you’re some kind of zoo animal.

I hear the ding of the elevator and I have to do a double take when Monroe exits through the doors. She has on a really tiny dress that is so tight, it hugs her slender body perfectly, accentuating her curves. She’s short, but the hem only reaches to her mid-thigh making her legs look longer. But that’s not even the part that takes my breath away. Glasses no longer hide her large, green eyes. They’re bright and the black kohl around them makes them stand out even more against her tan olive skin.

As much as I like Monroe, I have never once used the word ‘hot’ to describe her. And right now, it doesn’t even seem appropriate. Not because she’s just ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ but because I want to skip dinner, pull up her dress and take her in the back of my car.

“You look nice,” she says, approaching me. I don’t even answer her right away because I’m still busy staring at her.

“You look...Different.” I manage to choke out and I suddenly feel like a complete idiot. I have no game right now. None. All my words are gone. A girl has never left me speechless before, but here I am. Unable to form a coherent sentence.

When my eyes finally meet Monroe’s, she’s frowning.

“Do I smell or something? I swear I showered,” she says, lifting up her arm to sniff herself. The action makes me laugh and she smiles. In an instant, I’m snapped out of my trance. I lean into her—which, I immediately regret because as soon as I do, her perfume sends my hormones into overdrive—and inhale her scent.

“Nope. You’re good. In fact, you smell good enough to eat.” The words slip out before I can stop them and her large eyes widen and her delicious blush creeps up over her cheeks.

Okay this is the part where I just need to stop talking because once all of the blood leaves my brain, I start to say really outrageous things. And while it might get me laid most of the time, my brother is right. Monroe is young. And she’s innocent. I shall not focus on ‘defiling’ her...tonight at least.