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Quarterback 's Kiss Made Me A Target On Campus
Quarterback 's Kiss Made Me A Target On Campus

Quarterback 's Kiss Made Me A Target On Campus

9.2
/ 10
One viral spin-the-bottle kiss from star quarterback Aiden Thorne drags invisible Clara Hayes into the spotlight—and straight into the crosshairs of his ruthless ex, Jessica Davenport. As Jessica unleashes a brutal campaign of social terror, Clara must navigate Aiden's sudden, protective pursuit and decide if their undeniable spark is worth surviving the target on her back.

Quarterback 's Kiss Made Me A Target On Campus Summary

Shy, invisible Clara Hayes is dragged to a party by her roommate Lily and ends up in a game of spin-the-bottle. When the bottle lands on star quarterback Aiden Thorne, he kisses her—gently, publicly, and with unexpected sincerity. The moment goes viral overnight, turning Clara into a campus target. Jessica Davenport, Aiden’s entitled ex, launches a campaign of social terror: leaked memes, cruel notes, ruined artwork, and public humiliation. Despite the backlash, Aiden keeps seeking Clara out, walking her to class and defending her. Their growing connection becomes a battleground: Aiden’s genuine interest versus Jessica’s possessive wrath. By the end of Chapter 3, Clara realizes Aiden’s kiss didn’t make her seen—it made her a target—and Jessica’s war is only beginning.
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Chapter 1 of Quarterback 's Kiss Made Me A Target On Campus

The thumping bass from the party pulsed through my bones as Lily dragged me up the porch steps of the sprawling off-campus house. Her grip on my wrist was surprisingly strong for someone so petite.

"Just one hour, Clara, I promise," Lily chirped, her eyes glittering with excitement. "You can hide in the corner the whole time if you want. Just don't make me go alone!"

I dug my heels into the wooden steps. "Lily, you know I hate these things. Why can't we just watch that movie we planned?"

"Because we're in college, and you can't spend every weekend watching indie films with me!" She turned to face me, hands on her hips. The glow from the string lights around the porch made her look like a determined fairy. "Clara Hayes, you're nineteen years old. You need to live a little."

The mention of my name sent a flutter of panic through me. In a crowd this size, someone might actually notice I existed. That was the last thing I wanted.

"What if people talk to me?" I whispered, voicing my deepest fear.

"Then you talk back," Lily said with exaggerated patience. "It's called a conversation. You've had them before."

I knew she meant well. Lily had been my roommate since freshman year, and she'd been trying to drag me out of my shell for two years now. But the memory of Ryan Mitchell's laughter echoing through the cafeteria as he rejected my prom invitation still burned fresh in my mind.

"Just one hour," Lily repeated, her voice softening as she squeezed my hand. "You can be my moral support. There are supposed to be cute guys from the literature department coming."

I sighed, knowing I was defeated. "Fine. One hour."

The inside of the house was a nightmare of movement and noise. Bodies swayed to the music in every corner, red solo cups littered every surface, and the combined smell of cheap beer and too much perfume made my head swim. I immediately regretted my decision to come.

"There's the kitchen," Lily pointed. "Want a drink?"

I shook my head violently. "No, thanks. I'll just—" I looked around desperately for an escape route. "I need to use the bathroom."

Lily's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Don't try to hide in there all night."

"I won't," I lied, already planning to do exactly that.

I weaved through the crowd, keeping my eyes down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The bathroom was at the end of a long hallway, and I could see light spilling from under the door. Occupied. Perfect excuse to wait—and hide—for a while.

I leaned against the wall, trying to make myself invisible as I always did. The vibrations from the music traveled up through the floorboards beneath my feet.

"Hey, everyone!" A voice suddenly boomed over the music. "We're starting a game of spin the bottle in the living room. Everyone's invited!"

My stomach dropped. Spin the bottle? No, no, no. I needed to get out of here.

I turned toward the front door, but my path was immediately blocked by a wall of people moving toward the living room. They were forming a circle in the middle of the space, laughing and pushing each other good-naturedly.

"Come on, everybody!" The voice called again. "The more people, the more fun!"

I tried to sidestep the crowd, but someone grabbed my arm.

"Hey, are you playing?" A girl with bright blue hair asked, her eyes already slightly glazed from whatever she'd been drinking.

"No, I—I was just leaving," I stammered.

"Oh, you can't leave now!" She laughed, pulling me toward the circle. "Everyone's joining in."

"I really don't want to," I protested weakly.

"Come on," she insisted, her grip tightening. "It's just a game."

Before I knew it, I was being pushed into the circle. The crowd parted just enough to let me in, then closed behind me like a trap snapping shut. I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs as dozens of eyes turned to look at me.

"Great! Now we're all here," the guy who'd been organizing said. He was tall with broad shoulders—probably on some sports team. "Everyone sit down."

Slowly, everyone lowered themselves to the floor. I hesitated, then reluctantly joined them, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground.

"Alright, we'll go around in a circle," the sports guy explained. "When it's your turn, spin the bottle. Whoever it points to, you either have to kiss or do a truth or dare."

The bottle—an empty vodka bottle with a label peeling at the edges—began its journey around the circle. Each time it landed on someone, the room erupted in cheers and laughter. Some people kissed quickly, others chose truth or dare and revealed embarrassing secrets or performed silly tasks.

With each person it passed, my anxiety grew. What if it landed on me? What if I had to kiss a stranger? What if—

"Your turn," someone whispered, nudging me.

The bottle was in my hands now, cold and slippery with condensation. I looked up for the first time since sitting down and was met with a sea of curious faces.

"Spin it," the sports guy urged.

With trembling fingers, I placed the bottle on the ground between my crossed legs and gave it a weak spin. It wobbled in a circle, slowing down with each revolution.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the bottle gradually came to a stop.

And pointed directly at Aiden Thorne.

The star quarterback. The golden boy. The most popular guy on campus.

A collective gasp rippled through the room, followed by nervous laughter and whispers.

"No way."

"That's crazy."

"Did you see that?"

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't process what was happening.

Aiden sat across the circle, his dark hair slightly tousled, his blue eyes wide with what looked like surprise. Our eyes locked for a moment, and something passed between us—something I couldn't quite name.

The room fell silent as Aiden slowly stood up and crossed the circle. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode from my chest.

"Hi," he said softly, stopping in front of me.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't even nod.

He knelt down, bringing his face level with mine. Up close, he was even more handsome than from a distance. His eyes were kinder than I expected, his expression almost gentle.

"May I?" he asked quietly.

I somehow managed to nod, though my body felt disconnected from my mind.

Aiden leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. It wasn't the quick, awkward peck I'd expected from a party game. It was slow and soft and surprisingly tender.

The room around us disappeared. For a moment, there was only the gentle pressure of his lips, the clean scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his hand that had somehow found its way to my cheek.

When he pulled away, something in his eyes had changed. There was an intensity there that made my breath catch.

"Clara," he said, my name sounding different in his mouth.

I couldn't handle this. Couldn't handle him. Couldn't handle whatever was happening.

Without a word, I scrambled to my feet and pushed past the circle of stunned onlookers. The cool night air hit my face as I burst through the front door and ran down the steps, not caring where I was going as long as it was away from there.

Away from Aiden Thorne and whatever had just happened between us.

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