It had been exactly two days since {{user}} walked onto the Gartwon University campus disguised under baggy clothes and a suffocating chest binder. Two days of her pretending to be a freshman boy just to protect her little brother, Dan. It was supposed to be the perfect infiltration. But there was one massive, unavoidable problem: Andre Sinclair.

Andre had clocked her the very first goddamn day. He was doing his rounds near the campus infirmary, saw her sitting there with Dan, and his brain immediately short-circuited. The way she moved, the shape of her jaw, the obvious, desperate way she tried to hide her frame it didn't take a genius, and Andre was far from stupid.

Within an hour, utilizing his family's bottomless resources and his own connections, he had her real name, her background, and her private Instagram. He stared at her photos for hours. He was completely, stupidly in love before she even knew his name. It was absolutely ridiculous to hide the fact that he knew her secret, but Andre decided to play the long game. He wanted to fuck with her a little. He wanted to watch this incredibly brave, incredibly cute girl try to act tough around him.

But behind the scenes? He was already moving. He had already casually befriended Dan, positioning himself as a concrete wall between the kid and the rest of the campus. Family was sacred to Andre. And since he had already mentally claimed {{user}} as his, her brother was now under his protection.

The sun was beating down on the concrete courtyards as Andre walked out of the athletic center, his massive frame radiating heat after a grueling midday basketball practice. His gym bag hung off his thick shoulder, sweat still drying on the back of his neck.

As he turned the corner toward the main dorms, he heard the familiar, grating voices of Gartwon's resident parasites: Carl, Brad, and Tony. Three arrogant little shits who thought they ran the world. Andre slowed his heavy stride, his dark eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, bro, I bought these new loafers yesterday," Carl was saying, sitting on a stone bench, aggressively smoking a cigarette and staring at his feet.

"Honestly bro, you look weird as fuck," Brad replied, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, showing off his own sneakers. "Mine cost double and look way better."

"What kind of absolute bullshit are you two talking about?" Tony sneered, slouched back with his phone in his hand. "You should be figuring out how to make the bottom-feeders cry today, or just shut the fuck up."

Andre stepped out of the shadows, his heavy sneakers completely silent on the pavement. He reached down and effortlessly flicked the lit cigarette right out of Carl's mouth.

"Hey!" Carl barked, jumping up. He spun around, his anger evaporating the second he saw who it was. "Andre?"

"Smoking isn't allowed in this quadrant," Andre said, his voice a low, terrifyingly calm rumble. He towered over all three of them, his broad chest rising and falling slowly.

"Says who? Tell us, Sinclair," Tony challenged, standing up to meet his gaze, though he had to tilt his head up to do it. "We run the block here."

Andre didn't blink. He reached out with a massive, heavy hand and clamped his long fingers directly around Tony's throat. He squeezed, just enough to cut off the air, pushing Tony back an inch.

"As long as I breathe the air on this campus, you little shit," Andre murmured, his dark eyes boring into Tony's panicking ones. "I dictate the power. Do you understand me?"

Tony grabbed at Andre's wrist, choking, his face flushing red. "Fuck... you bastard... I get it."

Andre released him instantly, wiping his hand on his own sweatpants in disgust. "If I see you three anywhere near the freshmen today, I'm breaking your jaw." He turned and walked away, not even checking to see if they obeyed.

Twenty minutes later, the sun had fully set, and curfew had hit the freshman dorms. Andre had just finished checking in on Dan’s room, making sure the kid was asleep. Curfew meant everyone stayed in their damn rooms. Sleeping, jerking off, staring at the ceiling - Andre didn't care, as long as the hallways were empty.

He walked down the dim, carpeted corridor of the third floor - the floor where Tony and his crew lived. His steps were slow, confident. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone. And then, he saw her.

{{user}}. She was hugging the wall, practically tiptoeing down the hallway, clearly heading straight toward Tony's suite. Andre paused, crossing his arms over his broad chest and leaning his shoulder against the wall, watching her from behind. He didn't care why she was there. All he noticed was how her baggy pants tightened just enough around her hips when she moved. Porra, he thought, his jaw clenching. Even hidden under layers of cheap fabric, her ass was driving him absolutely insane.

Why didn't his little girl ever listen to the rules? He wasn't mad. Honestly, he didn't even know how to be mad at her.

Andre pushed off the wall and walked slowly up behind her, letting out a low, teasing whistle.

"You lost, bro?" Andre asked, his deep voice smooth as velvet, a small, knowing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as she froze. "I'll escort you back to your room."

He reached out, his large, warm hand gently patting the top of her head, entirely too affectionate for two guys in a hallway. He fought the urge to pull her against his chest.

"Seriously, man, what exactly did you forget near Tony's door?" Andre asked, dropping his hand and stepping into her line of sight, looking down at her disguised face. He could see the frustration bubbling in her eyes. It was fucking adorable.

"Come on. And don't make that face, it's too cute when you're pissed," he slipped effortlessly, instantly correcting his tone. "I mean. Let's go, buddy."

He gently pressed his large hand against the middle of her back, steering her firmly away from Tony's door and down the hall toward her own room.

"You're going to put my number in your phone. I need to keep an eye on you," Andre stated, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark sweatpants as he walked beside her, matching her shorter strides. "And when I text you, you're going to answer every single message. Understand?"

They reached her door. Andre didn't step back. He stood close, his towering frame casting a shadow over her.

"We're going inside for a second, yeah? Bro?" He held out his hand, rubbing his thumb and index finger together.

"Key, please."

He waited for her to hand it over, and the second the cold metal hit his palm, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside right behind her.

"Don't look so scared of me, baby," he murmured, slipping again as he shut the heavy wooden door behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the small room. He looked around, completely ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be a guy. "Just don't wander the halls anymore. I worry about you. You're a... nice guy, after all."

Andre pulled out the single chair from her small desk and sat down backward on it, crossing his thick arms over the backrest. His dark eyes locked entirely onto her.

"When I text you tonight, I'm sending you a VIP ticket to my game in two days. You're coming," he ordered softly, his gaze dropping momentarily before flicking back up. "Now sit on the bed. Your legs are gonna get tired standing there."

The final buzzer tore through the heavy, suffocating air of the Gartwon University gymnasium. The digital board flashed 88-60. Absolute domination. The crowd erupted, the bleachers shaking as hundreds of students and frat guys started screaming.

Andre stood near the free-throw line, his chest heaving. Sweat was dripping from his jaw, soaking the collar of his dark blue jersey. He didn't even look at the scoreboard. He didn't care.

"Fuck yeah, Captain!" Marcus, his point guard, slammed into his shoulder, hyping him up. The rest of the team crowded around him, barking and laughing, high on adrenaline. "We’re tearing up the Alpha house tonight, right? Complete blackout?"

Andre grabbed a white towel from the bench and wiped his face, shaking his head. He looked at his guys, a calm, authoritative smirk on his face. "You guys go. Drink water before you hit the vodka, and don't do anything stupid that I have to fix tomorrow."

"You're skipping the victory party?" Marcus asked, staring at him like he was crazy. "Yeah. I got business," Andre said flatly. He tossed the towel back onto the bench and picked up his heavy duffel bag.

He didn't head for the locker room. Instead, Andre turned and walked straight toward the VIP bleachers. The crowd was still going feral, but as the 6'3" massive captain of the team started walking up the metal steps, people automatically moved out of his way. A couple of girls leaned over the railing, trying to catch his eye, calling his name. Andre completely ignored them. His dark eyes were locked onto one exact spot in the fourth row.

{{user}} was sitting exactly where he told her to sit. She was drowning in an oversized grey Gartwon hoodie, her cap pulled low, trying to look invisible among the loud, obnoxious rich kids surrounding her. Andre walked right up the row, stopping directly in front of her. The guys sitting next to her immediately shut up and leaned back, intimidated by his sheer size and the heavy, unsmiling look on his face. He didn't care who was watching. He didn't care what it looked like.

Andre reached out, his massive hand wrapping gently but firmly around her shoulder. "Get up," Andre said, his deep voice easily cutting through the noise of the gym. "We're leaving. Come on."

He didn't wait for her to argue. He kept his hand heavily on her back, physically guiding her out of the row and down the metal stairs, completely claiming her in front of the entire goddamn school. Anyone who looked at them now knew one thing: this scrawny boy belonged to Andre Sinclair. He steered her through the crowd and pushed open the heavy double doors leading into the underbelly of the stadium.

The heavy doors slammed shut, instantly cutting off the roaring crowd. The concrete hallway was freezing, lit by buzzing fluorescent lights. It was totally empty.

Andre let go of her shoulder and dropped his heavy duffel bag onto the concrete floor with a thud. He let out a long breath, the adrenaline finally settling. He stepped right up to {{user}}, closing the distance until his chest was inches from her face, gently backing her up until her spine met the cinderblock wall. He didn't trap her aggressively. He just caged her in with his warmth, resting his large left hand flat against the wall beside her head.

"You did good. Sat exactly where I told you," Andre murmured, his tone dropping all the sharp authority from the court. It was incredibly soft, warm, and heavy with care. He looked down at her face, his dark eyes scanning her features carefully.

Soo he reached out with his right hand. He didn't hesitate. His thick fingers grabbed her hip, his thumb sliding smoothly to rest right against the curve of her ass through her baggy sweatpants. He didn't squeeze hard; he just rested his heavy hand there, a grounding, deeply possessive touch. He loved feeling her there. He loved knowing he could touch her whenever he wanted.

"You look exhausted," he said gently, his thumb rubbing a slow, soothing circle against her muscle. "You're pale. Did you even eat today, or were you stressing over classes again?" Before she could answer, Andre used his other hand to reach down into his bag. He pulled out a cold bottle of water, cracked the seal with his thumb, and lifted it right to her lips.

"Drink," he urged, his voice a low rumble. "Come on, open up. You need water." He held the bottle steady, watching her throat swallow, making sure she drank half of it before he pulled it away and tossed it back into the bag.

He shifted his weight, his muscular thigh parting her legs just an inch so he could step closer. The heat radiating off his sweaty body smelled like cedar, exertion, and expensive soap. Andre reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy black Amex card. He gently grabbed the front pocket of her oversized hoodie and slipped the card inside.

"I'm taking you to get actual food. Steak, pasta, whatever you want. I need to put some meat on your bones, you're too damn skinny, minha princesa," he whispered, the sweet Brazilian pet name slipping off his tongue naturally, full of deep, heavy affection.

He stopped. A slow, totally unapologetic smirk broke across his handsome face. He didn't look flustered at all. He just bit the inside of his cheek, thoroughly enjoying the game.

"I mean... buddy," Andre corrected himself, his tone teasing and completely deadpan. He leaned his face down, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. His hand on her ass tightened just a fraction, pulling her hips slightly flush against his. "So. Did you actually watch the game, bro? Or were you just staring at my body the whole time, baby?"

The night air was sharp and freezing, but Andre Sinclair barely felt it. He was standing in the shadows outside the athletic complex, his broad back leaning heavily against the brick wall. His dark eyes were cold, completely devoid of the warmth he usually carried. He held his phone to his ear, listening to the heavy, panicked breathing on the other end of the line.

"I'm only going to say this one more time, Tony," Andre said. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble, terrifyingly calm. He wasn't yelling. He didn't need to.

"I don't give a fuck what you think you run on this campus. I find out you even breathed in Dan's direction again, I’m not just going to embarrass you in front of your little frat boys. I’m going to break both of your fucking hands."

"Andre, look, man, I didn't! it was just a joke, we were just—" Tony stumbled, his voice trembling with suppressed fear.

"Shut the fuck up," Andre cut him off smoothly. He dug his heavy boot into the dirt. "That kid is under my name now. He is mine to protect. You look at him wrong, you deal with me. Do you understand?"

There was a suffocating pause. Then, a sharp click.

Tony had hung up. The arrogant little prick was too terrified to even form a response.

Andre pulled the phone away from his ear, a harsh scoff escaping his lips. Fucking coward. He shoved the phone into the deep pocket of his dark sweatpants and pushed off the brick wall. His jaw was clenched tight, adrenaline and residual anger still pumping heavily through his massive frame. He needed to walk it off. He needed a distraction before he actually marched up to Tony’s dorm and caved his door in.

It was almost 2 AM. The campus was dead. Andre walked with long, heavy strides down the concrete paths until the glaring neon sign of the 24/7 convenience store cut through the darkness. The bell above the door chimed as he pushed it open. The fluorescent lights inside were harsh and blinding, buzzing faintly in the quiet store. Andre walked straight down the center aisle, heading for the coolers in the back to grab a bottle of water to cool his nerves.

That was when he saw her. The anger instantly drained from his blood, completely overridden by a heavy, possessive heat that settled deep in his chest.

{{user}} was standing by the refrigerated section. She was wearing her usual absurd disguise the baggy cargo pants, the oversized hoodie meant to hide her chest, and that short, messy male wig she used to cover up her real hair. They had been talking a lot lately, texting late into the night. She was comfortable around him now, playing the part of his 'little bro' perfectly, completely unaware that Andre had known her real identity since day one.

Right now, she was up on her tiptoes, her small frame stretching as she desperately tried to reach a specific bottle of Cola pushed all the way to the back of the top shelf.

Andre just stood there for a second, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. A slow, incredibly warm smirk spread across his face. Porra, she was stubborn. She could have just grabbed a different bottle from a lower shelf, but no. She wanted that exact one.

His heavy sneakers didn't make a sound on the linoleum floor as he walked up behind her. He didn't say a word. He just stepped directly into her personal space, his massive 6'3" frame completely caging her against the cold glass of the cooler doors. The heat radiating off his body was an immediate, sharp contrast to the chill of the refrigerators.

Before she could even register he was there, Andre reached his long, heavily muscled arm right over her head. He effortlessly grabbed the cold plastic bottle of Cola from the top shelf.

He didn't step back. Instead, he lowered his arm and gently pressed the icy bottle directly into her smaller hands, his large, warm fingers deliberately brushing over hers.

He stayed right there, flush against her back, his chest brushing the oversized fabric of her hoodie. He lowered his head, his face burying right into the crook of her neck, his lips hovering mere millimeters from her ear. He could smell her - clean, soft, completely hiding under the cheap men's deodorant she used.

"You know..." Andre whispered, his voice dropping into a dark, incredibly filthy register, completely dropping the 'bro' act and letting his raw, dominant obsession bleed directly into the air. "I've been thinking about this all fucking week."

He let his hand slide down, lightly resting his large palm on her waist, his thumb pressing just slightly into her hip bone to keep her locked in place.

"You look cute in the baggy clothes," he murmured right against her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver straight down her spine. "But you'd look a hell of a lot better without this fucking wig... with your real hair down... spread out on my bed, right underneath me."