Divine Celebrity 87

“Finally,” I murmured as I waved the car away, and the driver waved back just as enthusiastically, doing my best not to frown. 

The driver turned out to be a football fan just like the nurses, but that fact was much less fun. He had chewed my ear with a huge monologue about why our offensive strategy was wrong. technically, he was right about it as he focused on Spencer’s horrible offensive schemes. 

If only he didn’t have an actual binder on how to fix those strategies, which was filled with some of the most blindingly horrible strategies I could ever imagine. But since I was riding in pajamas — the only thing I could find in the hospital room during my emergency discharge — I didn’t have the luxury of leaving the car, making the twenty-minute drive into a small torture.

I was lucky that he didn’t hear about the concussion rumors — I knew it was leaked due to a sudden spike of Intent I had been receiving — as he would have chewed my ear. But it didn’t trigger any new Traits, 

I kept my guide hidden during the trip, not wanting to miss the sudden flow of Intent. I didn’t know if it helped the System, but since it helped my guide to heal, I wanted to test whether more Intent would help the System recover. 

Which would, hopefully, fix the trouble with the upper limit of the Traits. 

But as I left the waving driver behind, my mind slipped back to the recent fame. The intent itself was good, but as the annoying driver showed, being a local celebrity was not all roses, I decided even as I climbed up the stairs of my room, preparing to open the door — I didn’t have the key with me, but the dorm doors weren’t the safest. 

When I arrived at the door, however, I found it already unlocked. 

An intruder, I realized, tensing. I considered for a moment to go back and call security, but another possible attempt by the sender of the shadow assassins changed my mind. I didn’t expect the shadows, mostly because they were incorporeal, but it was likely that they had decided to go with an alternative. 

If my guide hadn’t awakened from her long sleep, I would have turned and left. But with her present — and seemingly much more competent even if she was still as shy — I was more confident in challenging whatever threat that might lie at the other side, whether it was a few offensive linemen to make me pay, or a new supernatural threat. 

I prepared to summon my guide even as I pushed the door open, ready to throw myself to the side in case of a sudden attack — a gun or some kind of fireball — only to lose my tenseness when I found Megan sitting on my bed. 

Her arrival reason was clear, as she had my duffel bag next to the bed. She clearly brought my stuff as she played the role of concerned girlfriend. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, losing her subtle tenseness as she shifted. I didn’t miss the fact that she crossed her legs as she turned toward me, giving me a glimpse of her lack of underwear for a fleeting second, perfectly calculated while looking accidental. 

I let my eyes drop, confirming I had noticed it, but limiting my reaction to that. If she wanted to play the teasing game, I was more than willing to do the same — even though I was handicapped due to the beautiful medical application getting cut halfway.  

“Well, it’s my room, so it’s not a big surprise,” I said with a chuckle, but even as I walked toward her, I pushed my Seduction to the limit, prowling as I closed, my walk wouldn’t be amiss at the climax scene in a romantic movie just before the lead kisses the heroine, charged with sexual energy yet still charismatic. 

Seduction Trait was very, very useful. 

She shuffled in her place as I closed on, but to her credit, the slight tipping of her head was her only reaction as I stood in front of her. 

“Oh, I don’t know. You were at the hospital after that devastating punch from our glorious coach.” 

I was impressed that she delivered that sentence without actually laughing. I didn’t bother with that. “Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. “Maybe he was a heavyweight boxer before becoming a coach.” 

“I heard he was the student of a former world champion,” she countered, this time unable to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Then, she turned serious. “How the hell you managed to convince the hospital to give you a fake concussion report,” she added. 

For a moment, I thought about telling a fake story about a deal, but the story was high profile enough to break out otherwise. Instead, I decided to give the truth — at least, a close approximation of it. 

“It’s magical how easy to manipulate arrogant professors,” I said with a smirk, avoiding mentioning her unhealthy interest in my brain scan. “A careless remark about their youth and incompetency, squeezed between calling them a virgin nerd, and suddenly, they are very enthusiastic to punish you.” 

“And the best way to punish you…” Megan murmured. 

“To prevent me from playing football, of course,” I completed. “Pity it would make Coach Spencer’s life very uncomfortable as he tries to coach.” 

That made Megan’s smirk widen. “Oh, he will be very uncomfortable indeed,” she said. “So, what are your plans next now that you can’t play?” she asked. 

“But you’re wrong, I just can’t play football.” 

“What are you talking about. A concussion report bans you from every single sport due to concussion risk. Even athletism branches wouldn’t allow you to compete.” 

“Oh, but you forget that I’m already the player of another sport, one that was with absolutely no concussion risk,” I said. 

It took a moment for her to connect the dots. “Chess,” she said with a distasteful frown. “That’s not a sport.” 

“Oh, let’s agree to disagree,” I said with a shrug. 

“I can’t believe you’re wasting your time with a board game,” she added, though this time it was clearly an attempt to trigger me. 

“Well, I’ll play that board game as long as it pays my scholarship,” I said. “And don’t you think it’s a good story to show me fighting for the glory of our beloved school, even after I was traitorously sucker-punched by an overpaid administrator.” 

“Yeah,” she nodded as she stood up, leaning forward to give a deep view of her cleavage, showing her panties weren’t the only missing part of her outfit. It was a beautiful, inviting view. 

But the anticipatory expression on her face prevented me from making a move. She was clearly trying to goad me, so that she could reject me, taking revenge for the trick I had pulled together with Kim. 

“So, what’s our next move,” she said, doing her best to hide her frustration as she leaned against my desk. I had to admire the smoothness of her action, making sure her skirt rode up as she leaned back, but managed to make it look like a complete accident. 

I smirked, though it was less about her move — not that I didn’t enjoy it — but about the way she had instinctively referred to us as a team rather than asking my strategy. 

“Well, the first part is the reputation. I’ll make sure to know that while my diagnostic was not as optimistic as I hoped, I’m still a part of the team, and I’ll not only join all the training sessions, but also help the coaching staff train my replacement.” 

“Hmm, isn’t it a bit gambly? You can’t predict what he will do.” 

“No, honey. Not at all.” 

“What do you expect, for him to reject that, or accept?” 

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know, or care. Either he accepts despite making very clear just how much he doesn’t like me, shattering his authority on the defensive side for the year with no hopes of recovering without replacing all the players, or rejects and shows just how much of a small-minded petty person he is.” 

“Either way, you win,” she said. “Just like a casino.” 

“Exactly. Making sure to win at every outcome is the only way to gamble,” I said.  

Megan nodded as she leaned back, which she used to give another glimpse of her beauty under her skirt, and this time, I let my gaze linger longer. It was a measured trick, convincing her that her tricks were working. 

“It has been late, I have to leave if there’s nothing else,” she said as she half-turned. 

She had a smirk on her face as I stood up, which died with my words. “You’re right, it’s late. And I already bothered you enough for the night.” 

“Right…” she said as she looked at me suspiciously, which was quick to turn into anger as she realized the subtle trick I had pulled, one that left her committed to leaving. 

Of course, my smile left no doubt that I was not kicking her out. All she needed was to suppress her pride enough to give a simple excuse to stay, and she would have a fun night  — a fun that was not in doubt the slightest as she watched me giving a night of ecstasy to her friend just a couple nights ago.

Her pride proved to be pricklier than her desire. With an annoyed huff, she walked away, her steps hard on the floor, and a while later, I heard the distinctive sound of her engine getting away. 

I chuckled even as I reached for mind space, summoning my guide…