Game Changer: #UofJ Book 2- A Second Chance Romantic Comedy Sports Romance (U of J)

by Alley Ciz

  CTG BFF JT: Nope. Get your lazy ass out of my bed and dress for cheer practice. Coach knows you’re here and asked me to ask you to help choreograph mine and Rei’s partner stunt routine again.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by the request; I did the same for them last year. The final approval on their routine will come from Coach Ramos, but having spent my whole cheer career partnered with JT, I’m an expert on what stunts he excels at.

  ME: Do you really think me stunting with your squad is a good idea? That’s what started this whole mess.

  CTG BFF JT: It’ll be fine. I already told everyone no taping of anything and not to post about you being down here. Stop stalling and hustle up, buttercup.

  ME: *GIF of Anna Kendrick saluting*

  I should have suspected it wouldn’t take JT much time to arrange for me to get in some form of cheering while I’m here. Ironically, nothing makes me feel more centered than being tossed in the air. Who knows? Maybe it will help me figure out what to do about the added threats from Liam.

  Goose bumps dot my arms when I crawl out from beneath the warm covers, the slight chill in the room reminding me it is November. Rummaging through my bag, I search for a hoodie, only to realize, just like with my sleep shirt, I subconsciously packed Mason’s.

  Was it really subconscious? Why won’t you just admit you want to be with him already?

  Fucking hell.

  Throwing the garment like it was the one that offended me and not my own conscience, I stomp over to JT’s closet and rip one of his blue UK hoodies down with enough force to cause its hanger to bounce off the bar and fall onto the floor.

  I need chocolate milk and coffee stat.

  “Stupid fucking football player. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I mumble, attempting to pull the sweatshirt over my head. “I should just have E tie you to a block dummy and let the O-line take care of you.”

  “You’re kind of violent for such a tiny little thing.”

  I let out a scream worthy of a horror film. With my head still stuck inside the oversized hoodie, I wasn’t aware anyone was in the kitchen.

  “Sorry.” My head finally pops out from its cotton confines. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Spencer sends me a sheepish smile over the rim of his coffee mug.

  “No, it’s fine.” My memory is a bit fuzzy thanks to my tequila buzz, but I do remember meeting him, however briefly, before his conversation with JT last night. “I just didn’t expect anyone to be home.”

  “Ah, I’m not in season yet. Taking the rare opportunity not to set an alarm.”

  “Preaching to the choir on that.” I shuffle over to the fridge and pull out the half gallon of chocolate milk, chugging straight from the container.

  “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t play football, huh?”

  I give a noncommittal shrug, unwrapping my breakfast sandwich and placing it in the microwave to warm.

  “I take it it’s more a particular player than the sport you have a problem with?”

  Someone is too intuitive for me to handle before noon.

  I bite into my sandwich with a nod, choosing to eat right at the counter.

  “You staying the whole weekend?” Another nod. “Sweet.”

  By coming here, I know I’m falling into old habits of running away, but I don’t really care too much. Besides, I get the impression JT is going to continue to go all big brother on me and force me to confront all the things that have me running to begin with.

  Spencer and I make small talk while I eat and he has his coffee. He’s a constant flirt, but unlike Adam, who is a total skeeze, Spencer’s efforts remind me more of D’s.

  Ooo, you know who would go all caveman on Spencer if he were here?

  Shut up! I shout at my inner cheerleader. This weekend is a Mason-free zone.

  *snorts* Good luck with that.

  “Excuse me,” Spencer says politely when there’s a knock at the door.

  Two-thirds of my hangover cure done, I spin to make the essence of life—coffee.

  “Dante.”

  “Spence.”

  Based on the sounds I hear, the two of them are doing the whole bro-hug, back-slapping thing.

  “JT isn’t here,” Spencer says.

  “Oh, I know.” D chuckles. “I’m here for something much better-looking.”

  The smile I hear in his voice tells me without his older brother here to keep him in check, his flirtations will reach epic levels this weekend.

  “KayKay.” I barely have time to put my mug on the counter before I’m lifted into a familiar Grayson bear hug, this one complete with being swung around like a rag doll.

  “You can put me down now,” I say, hitting his shoulder.

  “Whatevs. Let me have my moment. Unlike G, I never get any quality Kay time to myself.”

  With me too busy enjoying D’s gregarious personality, it takes longer for the thought to hit. “You can’t tell him I’m here, D,” I implore, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

  “Don’t worry, your guard dog already gave me the speech.” A giggle escapes at his description of JT.

  “You good to wait while I shower?” I gesture toward the bathroom with my mug. “I need to wash away the last of this tequila haze.”

  “Want someone to wash your back?” D waggles his brows.

  I roll my eyes. I don’t know if it’s D’s ridiculousness or the fact that I put seven hundred miles between me and my issues, but I feel a little bit lighter as I grab my bag and disappear inside the bathroom.

  #Chapter27

  Checking my phone has become something I’ve started to do with embarrassing frequency. I do so hoping Kay will finally text me, but all I have are notifications from Instagram.

  I admit, my vague-book post falls into the type of thing Kay likes to avoid, but I did it with the hope that by declaring my relationship status, it would help shut down the speculation ones that have been trending.

  Did it work? Sort of.

  Sort of? *smacks hat against thigh* Do I need to put it up on a whiteboard or something? Write it in Xs and Os? You did see all the comments your post got, right? Don’t even get me started on that fuckwat. It’s a good thing it’s a bye week, because you, sir, need all the extra practice time if you’re going to have a winning season when it comes to Kay.

  My inner coach likes to talk a lot of shit, but I don’t see him coming up with anything good in his playbook.

  “You have a game plan for this weekend?” Trav asks as we make our way out of the athletic center after our morning workout.

  “Go to Blackwell, go to The Barracks, go to wherever Kay will be and not leave until we’re an official couple again.” I shove my hands inside the pouch of my hoodie in deference to the cold wind.

  “I take it you mean official official and not the bullshit Gram post you tried the other day?”

  The post was a power move. Granted, it was one that got me reamed out and slapped by Kay and razzed by the guys, but I was looking to shut down some of the more persistent #CasanovasGirl comments.

  If it weren’t for how stressed it makes Kay, or you know, the fact that social media is the main obstacle in getting my girl back, I wouldn’t care.

  “Isn’t that that King guy with Grayson?” Trav points to where Grant is leaning against a matte black Yukon talking to, sure enough, Carter King.

  “I think so. He and his friends do seem to have an affinity for that paint job.” We change direction. I still haven’t decided how I feel about the guy, but maybe keep your friends close and all that jazz.

  Grayson is the first to spot us, greeting Trav enthusiastically while Carter eyes me speculatively.

  “I can’t tell if what you did was stupid as shit or ballsy as fuck.” He holds his phone out, displaying my Instagram.

  Trav loses it and cackles like a freaking witch beside me while I bump Carter’s outstretched fist.

  “Didn’t realize the U of J was part of your kingdom.” My hands wrap around the strap of the duffle
bisecting my chest as I brace myself with my feet spread apart.

  “You joke”—the corner of Carter’s mouth kicks up—“but Jackie O loves to discuss the reach of my monarchy.”

  “Can you please”—Grayson clasps his hands in front of his chest—“call Em that in my presence later?”

  “I would, but do you think it’s smart to mess with her without Kay around?”

  “Eh.” Grayson waves off the concern. “Tiny Taylor will be there. She’ll play royal guard while Smalls is gone.”

  “Why would you call Em Jackie O?” Trav asks.

  I snap my fingers to bring the Three Stooges back around and focus. “What do you mean by ‘without Kay around’?”

  “Tessa called me for a ride home from The Barracks last night, and she and my sister spent the whole ride trying to come up with new plans because Dennings couldn’t play chauffeur for them this weekend anymore.

  “Why not?” Kay always makes sure to be around for Tessa if needed. What the hell would keep her from that?

  “Don’t know.” He slips his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and shrugs. “All I do know is I haven’t seen her Jeep around town, and now I’m responsible for picking up the Troublesome Twosome from school.”

  My mind reels, trying to figure out what all this could mean. Sure, I said I’d spend the next three days essentially stalking anywhere Kay could possibly be, but from what I’m hearing? It sounds like that’s going to be a bigger task than I once thought.

  “What’s your deal with my girl, anyway?” I don’t give a shit about the technicality that Kay isn’t mine; like hell am I going to refer to her as anything less, especially when it comes to some dude I basically know nothing about.

  “True that.” Trav rocks back on his heels beside me, adopting a laidback facade. “We’ve heard things about your sister from Short Stack, but not you.”

  “Yet”—I continue, picking up Trav’s train of thought—“you sure seem to be around a lot and know a surprising amount about her.”

  “You trying to move in on my boy’s girl? Slide in there as a rebound?” Trav has his charming smile fixed on his face, but I hear the threat simmering underneath the question.

  Grayson spins to face the giant SUV behind him, but the bounce of his shoulders gives away his laughter. Carter shoots him a chilly glare when he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “wrong cheerleader”, but with his back to us, it’s too hard to make out.

  “For all intents and purposes, Dennings and I are friends.” He lifts a hand at the twin questioning expressions Trav and I give him. “She doesn’t really do the whole friend thing, but that’s the best way to describe us.”

  What is he talking about? Kay has tons of friends—Em, Quinn, Grayson, CK, Tessa, JT, me, and the guys. I start to list everyone, but again, Carter holds up a hand.

  “With Dennings, you fall into one of three categories: family, NJA family, or an acquaintance. I’m in this weird middle ground between family and acquaintance because I’m really more JT’s friend than anything else. But”—a strange softness overtakes his features—“even if I wasn’t, I would have her back for her always being there for Savvy.”

  “Why?” I ask, still not convinced of his motives.

  “I may not have legal custody of my sister the way E does with Kay, but I’m the one who has raised her most of our lives. Kay has always been one of the people to help smooth things over with Pops when Sav would spend multiple school nights sleeping at the Taylors’.”

  It makes sense. Whether Kay realizes it or not, she breeds loyalty from those around her. Look at how invested my teammates have become in me fixing my fuckup.

  “Alright.” I nudge Trav with an elbow so he knows to stand down, and then I reach out to give Carter a bro-shake that says We’re cool. I don’t have time to waste on macho-posturing anyway. Kay is all that matters. Now the real question is: where the hell is she?

  #Chapter28

  I didn’t realize how much I missed the anonymity of being just another student at the U of J until we walked back to JT’s dorm after working on his partner stunt routine with Rei.

  Yes, there are a number of students from Blackwell Public that attend U of J, but they, as well as everyone else, didn’t seem to care until Mason started showing interest in me.

  The whole thing is stupid, if you ask me, but I guess a bunch of people in their late teens/early twenties aren’t as mature as one would hope.

  “You guys are still coming to the basketball house tonight, right?” D asks after we all finish gorging ourselves on Chinese food. He and Rei came back to JT’s earlier and have been hanging with us and JT’s roommates since.

  “If you’re all going to a party, does that mean I get dibs on the TV?” I lean back against the couch, trying to find a comfortable position with the food baby stretching the limits of my leggings.

  “Nuh-uh, KayKay. You’re coming too.”

  I shake my head. “You should know better than most, D—how many times have I told G I’m not into the whole frat scene? I’m good drinking right here.”

  Last night—with the exception of the detour into hey-Mason-is-doing-dreamy-things territory—was perfect: hanging out, taking shots, playing nonsense drinking games. I would like to repeat those events for the next two nights until I have to return home and face reality.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” JT chimes in.

  My eyes go wide and I give him a What the fuck? glare.

  “Don’t give me that look.” I narrow my eyes to slits. “It’ll be good for you to get out and be social.”

  “I’m social.” I fold my arms across my chest defensively. I’ve been social all day. Did I or did I not spend time with the Blue Squad? What more does he want from me?

  “Not so much.” He gives my ponytail a tug. “Plus, it’s the basketball house, not a frat. It’ll be mostly guys from the team, the cheer squad, and significant others. Think of it more like a Royal Ball.”

  Damn him for always trying to push me out of my bubble. It irks me that I can’t even use my issues with school cheerleaders as an excuse, because he knows full well I like his squadmates.

  “It’ll be good practice for you.” The gleam I see twinkling in his whiskey eyes does not give me the warm fuzzies.

  “Practice for what?” I ask out of the side of my mouth.

  “Dealing with uncomfortable social situations.”

  I don’t want to ask him what he means by that. I really don’t—but I can’t not ask.

  “Whyyyyy?”

  “For when you take lover boy back.” The every-single-tooth-on-display smile he flashes me is too You know I’m right for my liking.

  “I hate you.” Not really.

  “No you don’t.” Dammit. “And you don’t hate him either.” Fucking hell.

  The room goes silent enough you could hear a mouse fart, or in this case, D’s whispered, “Oh shit.”

  “I didn’t pack anything I could wear to a party.” I toss out the excuse as a last-ditch effort, ignoring the commentary on the future of my romantic life. JT knows about the…for lack of a better word, threats Liam has made. We’re going to have to talk about that at some point this weekend.

  “I got you, girl. We’re basically the same size,” Rei offers, sealing my fate.

  Glancing around the room, I see six Checkmate expressions looking back at me.

  Whoo! Party! Party! Party! My inner cheerleader starts to do the running man.

  Guess I’m going to a party.

  #Chapter29

  I put hella miles on the Shelby today. I knew the chance of finding Kay at home after what Carter told me was slim, but I still drove past the Taylors’ before swinging by Kay’s family home. The first was easy to rule out because there was no pink Jeep in the driveway, but at the latter, I spent twenty minutes ringing the doorbell and creeping around looking through the windows like some sort of peeping Tom.

  After that, I drove around town for an hour
searching for a familiar flash of pink. When that came up empty, I started to make my way back north to see if she was at The Barracks—she wasn’t—then decided to swing by my house. It was a long shot, but I was hoping maybe the twins had extra practices or clinics booked with Kay this weekend.

  They didn’t, and unfortunately for me, Brantley was home and got his chance to pin me down about my “public image”. As he droned on and on about how being seen as marketable and drama-free will help me be a cut above the rest come draft time, I tuned him out until he said, “I’m not so sure this girl is the best thing for you.”

  I snapped to attention after that.

  “Come again?” I choke down the rush of protectiveness, reminding myself this is my stepdad I’m talking to.

  Hell, Brantley’s been the only father figure I can remember having in my life since my biological dad died when I was two. After Mom, he’s the biggest supporter of my NFL aspirations. I’ve followed his advice on anything that can help give me a leg up—like joining Alpha Kappa—but Kay is a no-go area. She is mine, plain and simple.

  “I know you think you love this girl, bu—”

  “It’s not a thought. It’s a certainty.” I cut him off before he can finish whatever asinine comment he was about to say. I swear there are moments I wonder if deciding to use him as my agent was the best plan.

  As much as he was pissing me off claiming Kay’s family drama could hurt me negatively, it was that comment that had things clicking into place for me.

  Family! She would go to family.

  Bette was up two weeks ago to make sure Kay was okay after the breakup. From all the stories she told me about E and Bette changing their lives for guardianship, the last thing she would want is for Bette to do what Kay would feel like was putting her life with E on hold again.

  With my inner coach cracking up over how I’m a dead man when I get there, I embark on the almost-four-hour drive to Baltimore.