by Alex Dafney
I nod in agreement, knowing I’ll likely have to grovel to get people to class.
As Ryan begins the lecture, my mind wanders to where it usually does when my daydreaming starts. Jet Langburne.
Walking into the cafeteria just before six in the evening, my stomach flits with nervous energy.
Brenda glances over to me from the table situated against the wall, giving me a bright smile as she arranges the food she so graciously provided. “Hey, honey. You look a little green around the gills.”
I grimace as I move toward her, stopping next to her as she chuckles, giving me a side hug.
“You’ll do fine. If anyone can convince this group to do better, you can.”
I give her a small smile, thankful for her words, but not convinced in the least. Moving over to the podium that faces the entire room, I walk behind it, pulling the notebook out from my bag and placing it on top. Opening to the page of notes I have for my speech, I feel the strong urge to be sick.
Glancing up, I find Colton walking through the large doors, giving me a bright smile and a wave of his hand. I give him a small wave as he takes a seat at the front table.
“You got this, Briar.”
I nod to him, moving my eyes back to the paper to read my notes for the millionth time since writing them. Looking through my lashes, I watch the entire football team walking into the room, heading straight for the table Brenda is still arranging.
She rocks back onto one leg, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at them as they stalk toward her. “No food until you hear what Briar has to say.”
A smirk pulls onto my lips as they mumble, moving over to fill the first two tables in front of me. I know the team is only here because of Colton, but maybe I can persuade at least a few of them.
Glancing over my shoulder to the clock that is mounted on the wall, I see I have another ten minutes until I’m supposed to begin. Taking a deep breath, I face back to my notes, forcing myself to focus as voices fill the room.
One last glance at the clock, I find it’s time to begin. As I face forward, my eyes widen, my mouth dropping open. The entire cafeteria is packed full. There’s not a single available seat at the tables, and students mill around in the back of the room, propped along the wall.
The noise in the room begins to fade, everyone turning their eyes to me. I open my mouth, but no words come out as I freeze on the spot, my eyes moving around the room over the large crowd.
I glance over to the door as it swings open, watching as Jet and Angie stroll inside, staying at the back of the crowd.
Ignoring the fierce scowl on her face, my eyes lock with Jet’s charcoal gaze. Angie links her arm through his, pulling herself snug against his side, but his eyes never waver from mine. Lifting his hand, he gives a gesture to the crowded room, giving a small nod of his head to urge me to begin.
I pull my eyes from his, dropping them to focus on the notes in front of me. “Um, I’m, um…” I let my words trail off, closing my eyes and taking a steadying breath. I’ve never been good at speaking before a crowd, and I’ve never had one this large.
Lifting my eyes, I focus on Jet at the back of the room, who gives me an encouraging smile.
“Thank you for coming this evening. My name is Briar Knotwood. I’m a freshman here, and I want to speak to you about the Academy Bowl.” A small smile pulls onto my lips as Jet gives me a smile of approval, raising his eyebrows for me to continue.
“You’re going to have to speak louder!”
I move my eyes along the back of the room, stopping on the boy who has his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling toward me.
I give Brad Pitte, the first student I met when I arrived, a small nod as I clear my throat, stepping to the front of the podium.
“I’ll try to speak louder. Thank you.”
He gives me a salute before folding his arms over his chest, waiting for me to continue.
“As most of you already know, I would like for the Academy of Underachievers to participate in the bowl games this year.” I move into the guidelines to join the competition, everyone seeming to listen.
As I finish, I let out a long breath. “Does anyone have any questions?”
The room erupts with noise as everyone begins to talk at once.
Holding my hands above my head, palms facing them, I shake my head, the murmuring coming to a cease. “Let’s try this a different way. If you have a question, raise your hand.”
My eyes widen as damn near every hand shoots up in the room. Moving my eyes to the first table, I nod my head toward the blonde-haired girl who sits amongst the football team. She stands, placing her hands on her hips with an arrogant smirk on her face.
“I think you’re lost. Underachievers don’t compete.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as half the congregation murmurs their agreement with her assessment.
“We’ve never competed before, but now is a great time to start.” I give her a bright smile as she rolls her eyes, turning away from me and moving toward the back of the room.
Another table follows suit, exiting the cafeteria behind her. I move my eyes around the room as multiple students begin to rise.
“What is the prize if we win the competition?”
Everyone seems to pause as I look to the back of the room where Brad gives me a knowing smile.
“The first place school receives a hundred thousand dollars in prize money, as well as each member of the competition team of twenty, will receive five thousand dollars, along with the coveted Bowl trophy.”
Murmers fill the room at the idea of receiving that kind of money.
“However, even though the competition team consists of twenty, it would take all of our efforts to be accepted into the Bowl this year. The average GPA has to meet requirements, and right now, we are failing.”
“How would we raise the average GPA?”
I glance over to a girl with red curly hair who sits a few tables away from me, giving her a warm smile. “Everyone would need to start attending classes right away for us to enter.”
My eyes move to the football players who all begin to rise from the table, mumbling as they turn their backs to me to stalk out of the room. My heart sinks. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but if the athletes leave, I have no hopes of convincing the rest of the student body.
“Wait!” Colton rises from his seat, moving to his teammates. “I’ve been going to classes for the last two weeks. It’s not bad, guys.”
The captain of the team glances between Colton and I, turning to me and folding his arms over his broad chest. “No offense, Briar, but I came here for a break after high school. What you’re proposing sounds like a complete drag of endless studying, classes, and zero fun.”
I shake my head quickly. “Not at all. Yes, you would need to study and go to classes, but we can all still have fun.”
Looking around the room, I throw my hands up at my sides in exasperation. “Standard colleges are known for the wild antics of college kids, yet they still leave after four years with a degree. Our situation is a tad different, but we can make this happen.”
“Prove it.”
I move my eyes back to the captain, drawing my brows together in confusion. “Huh?”
He chuckles as he drops his arms, placing them on his hips. “Prove it, Briar. Prove that you can have fun.”
I pull my bottom lip in my mouth, uncertain if I even want to know what he has in mind. “Okay,” timidly leaves my mouth as he laughs.
Raising his arm over his head, he throws a few fist bumps up. “To the bar!”
I groan as Colton flings his arm around my shoulder, us following the team out of the room, the other students hoarding around us to exit. As we move through the doors, I glance around, not seeing Jet anywhere.
Walking through the bar that borders the Academy property, I’m instantly impressed as I look around. I had assumed this would be a dive of a place, but instead, find it to be quite modern. Games and pool tables
sit to one side as you enter. A stage with a live band is in the far corner with numerous tables and chairs before it, as well as a large dance floor.
Colton nudges me with his elbow, leaning to whisper to me as we make our way toward the counter for drinks. “You better show your fun side tonight.”
I arch a brow up as he pulls back, giving him a massive roll of my eyes as he snickers. Placing my arms to the top of the bar, I push up on my tiptoes, surveying the bottles that line the back wall.
“What are you having?”
I give the young bartender a small smile, pointing behind her to the row of tequila. “Margarita. On the rocks.”
Lowering back to my feet, I slide my hand in my back pocket, fully expecting her to ID me, and thankful I had the foresight to grab my fake card. To my surprise, she turns from me, fixing my drink without another word. I pull my credit card out, sliding it toward her on the bar-top as she pushes my glass toward me.
“Start a tab.”
She gives a nod before rushing away.
Turning to survey the room, I find it filled with the same faces of students from the cafeteria earlier.
“I’m in.”
I quickly look to my right as a loud voice, speaks in my ear, finding Brad Pitte, giving me a small smile. “You’re in? Like, you want to compete in the Bowl?”
He nods, and I have to fight the urge to appear overexcited, even though I am doing cartwheels in my mind.
“That’s great, Brad. I hope we can convince everyone to help.”
He shakes his head lightly, “I said I was in to compete, not rally the masses.” His eyes move over my shoulder, me glancing to see what he’s looking at. The football team surrounds a table, the captain lifting a pitcher of beer as the others yell chug.
“They are the ones you need to convince. Get to the captain, and they’ll all be on board. You better have a good time tonight.”
I twist my lip in concern. It’s not like I’ve never drank alcohol before, maybe even been drunk a time or two, but never have I stood in the middle of a table gulping down a pitcher.
Glancing down to the cup I have clenched between my hands, I take a deep breath, knowing I need to get to their level to prove we can be good students, but still, have a good time. Lifting the glass, I tilt it up to my lips, draining it.
“Dammit,” I mutter to myself as I spin to the bar, holding the empty glass up to the bartender who nods.
As she places a fresh drink to the counter, I swipe it, moving toward the football team with a fake smile plastered on my face.
A few hours later, and many drinks later, I find myself on the stage, microphone in my hand, belting out the lyrics to an old pop number I listened to as a preteen, two football players flanking my sides and singing off-key.
I giggle drunkenly as the song comes to an end, handing the microphone off as I stumble off the stage, Colton gripping my arms to keep me from falling.
I give him a crooked grin as I look up at him, it starting to fade as his face moves toward mine. Shit. I try to turn my head, but his arm wraps around me, gripping the hair on the back of my neck and keeping my face toward his as his lips meet mine in a disgusting, slobbery kiss.
Lifting my hands, I push against his chest as his tongue sweeps against my lower lip, listening to his friends chant his name around us. “Stop!” I manage to say as I turn my head, his lips finding my cheek.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m being jerked away from Colton’s grip by my elbow. Dropping my eyes down to the hand that locks around my arm tightly, I slowly lift them, knowing I’ll be seeing charcoal eyes at the end of my trek.
Jet’s jaw is set in a firm line, his brows drawn as he scowls at Colton.
I sway slightly, Jet moving his hand from around my arm and circling my waist to keep me steady.
“She told you to fucking stop.”
I wave a hand in nonchalance. “He didn’t,” I hiccup loudly, leaning my head to the side to rest on Jet’s chest. “Mean anything.” Another hiccup escapes me.
“I’m taking you back to school.”
I nod in agreement, my eyes closing against my will.
As he begins to lead me toward the exit, I hear my name being chanted. Throwing my hand over my head, I give them a peace sign with my fingers before Jet guides me out the door. I stumble over the one step that leads to the bar; him quickly righting me.
“Jesus, Briar.”
Attempting to roll my eyes at the contempt in his voice, I instead manage to roll my entire head, causing me to throw myself off balance again.
Jet stops, bending at the knees, he places his arm behind my legs, sweeping me up to carry me across the parking lot.
I don’t bother to protest, merely snaking my arms around his neck and nuzzling my cheek against his chest as I inhale his glorious cologne. “You smell soooo good.”
He lets out a sigh, jostling me slightly as he pulls the door open to his car. Placing me in the seat, he pulls the seatbelt around me, the stubble on his face brushing against my cheek as he fastens it.
“Don’t puke in my car. If you do, I’m going back in there to kick Colton’s ass like I should have.”
I internally roll my eyes since my eyes are closed, my head resting back against the seat.
Hearing him climb in the driver’s side, I glance over to him, squinting at both of him with one eye. “Why are you there, here, at the bar?”
He ignores my question, merely reaching his hand across the bench seat and placing it on my knee, giving a gentle squeeze.
I rest my head back on the seat, feeling a bit queasy as the car moves along the road. Without thinking better of my drunken decision, I unhook my seatbelt, pushing to stretch out along the seat, placing my head in Jet’s lap. “I hate alcohol,” I mumble incoherently.
He chuckles, placing his hand to my head and stroking my hair softly. “You’ll hate it even more in the morning, babe.”
I groan slightly as he continues to run his fingers through my hair, letting exhaustion take me over.
My eyes flutter open as I’m placed to a soft bed. Glancing around, I find myself in Jet’s dorm room, him sliding his hands from beneath me.
Once again, I close my eyes, letting my stupid, drunken brain make decisions as I begin to unbutton my tight jeans to take them off, not wanting to sleep in them.
“Briar.”
I let out a long, “hmmm,” keeping my eyes closed as I fumble with my zipper. When I manage to pull it down, I hook my thumbs in the sides of my jeans, starting to push them down my legs, vaguely hearing a groan.
“Dammit, Briar.”
I feel Jet’s hands on top of mine, helping me pull the tight jeans down my legs as I lie back in the comfortable bed. As the jeans leave my skin, I want nothing more than to rid myself of my bra and shirt as well.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I keep my eyes closed, gripping the hem of my shirt with one hand and trying to take it off.
“Oh. My. God.” Jet mumbles.
I fall back to the bed, spreading my arms wide as I giggle at the tone in his voice. “Help me.”
I crack my eyes open to slits as I feel his hands on mine, pulling me to sitting. His brows are drawn together tightly as he releases his grip, moving his hands to the hem of my shirt and pulling upward as I lift my limp arms, letting the shirt slide over me. Reaching one hand back, I flick the hook of my bra, letting it slip away from me, leaving my chest exposed.
I lie back, hearing another groan as my eyes close. I barely crack one eye open as I feel the bed shift, then I’m being pulled by my hands to sitting.
“Sleep in one of my shirts, babe.”
I nod drunkenly as the shirt slips over my head with no help on my end. I attempt to lift my arms to slide through the sleeves of the large t-shirt, struggling to make it happen, but finally succeeding, falling back to the soft mattress with a sigh.
“I’ll go down to your room for the night.”
I crack one eye open, noticing t
he look of concern on Jet’s face. I roll to my side, running my hand over the comforter I lie on top of. “Sleep with me.”
He sighs heavily, looking from me to the large portion of bed beside me. “It would be best if I go down to your room.”
I shake my head lightly against the pillow it rests on, wanting nothing more than for Jet to climb in the bed and let me hold him close as we sleep. “My bed is broken. So is the desk, the door, the mirror, the closet, and the pipes that run through the ceiling have now started to leak.” I open one eye, looking over to him as he chuckles lightly.
“Fine. Move over.”
I try to slide over as I watch him pull his shirt over his head and drop his jeans to the floor through the slit in my eye. Swallowing slowly at the sight of him in nothing more than boxers as he moves to the opposite side of the bed.
He climbs in next to me, pulling the comforter down, helping me under the blanket, before lying back on his pillow. I shift until I’m lying directly against him, snuggling my face into his neck and swinging my leg over to rest on his. Dangerously close to his center.
He lets out a groan as my fingernails tighten on his pecs, desperately wanting him to ravage me.
“Stop, Briar.”
I instantly stop, lifting my head and looking at him through slitted eyes. Toying with him, I slide my hand down his chest, circling my fingertip around his belly button in what I hope is a seductive motion.
He grips my wrist tightly, pushing it back to me. “That’s enough.”
I frown at the authoritative tone to his voice as I lie my head back to his chest, yet undeterred by his protest. Waiting a few seconds, I trail my hand down his chest again, wanting to take advantage of my drunken confidence.
Just as my fingers skim the top of his happy trail, he grips my hand firmly, rolling to his side and forcing me to mine in a spoon position.
He drapes his arm over me, my back to his chest, his breath against the back of my neck.
Goosebumps spread along my body, making me want him even more. I decide to make one last attempt, wiggling my ass against his front, feeling him becoming aroused as he growls into my hair.