I finally get out of Coach Hayes’ office, shower and get ready to head out.
“Where the fuck are you off to in such a hurry?” Bateman asks.
“He’s off to see the lady tutor,” Rhodes replies, too condescendingly for my liking.
“Fuck off, both of you,” I snap.
“He hasn’t been laid in a while, B. He’s on edge.” I hear Rhodes and Bateman laugh, hard, as I walk away.
I’ve never left the locker room so fast. I need to get over to Holy Sip! before Maisy’s shift ends. I’m wearing my gold CU football mesh shorts, black Under Armour hoodie and Adidas slides. I throw on a Golden Knights baseball hat because I don’t want to take the time to brush my hair. I should just completely shave my fucking head at this point. I’ve all but stopped doing my hair.
Holy Sip! is located on the main drag of Woodbury, sandwiched between Cha Chi’s Cantina and a small shoe store called Urban Shoetique. All the buildings on Main Street are old and brick. They’ve been remodeled on the inside, but the outside is still as it was hundreds of years ago. It’s quaint.
The coffee shop is basically empty, save a couple of tables of college kids doing work on their laptops or chatting over their beverages. Good. Maisy is there. Roommate earned her $200. She’s wearing jean shorts, a white t-shirt and a black apron that reads Holy Sip! across her perky chest. Her hair is tossed into a messy bun on top of her head. She is fucking perfection.
I walk up to the counter and Maisy turns around from the machine she was cleaning.
“Hi, welcome to Holy Shit,” she says as she sees me.
“That’s the name of this place? I thought it was a coffee shop. What am I supposed to order at a place called Holy Shit?”
“Not funny. You just made me swear at a customer. Are you stalking me or just trying to get me fired?” she asks.
“Neither,” I lie. I’m a total stalker. “I’ll take a large Americano, extra shot.” She eyes me suspiciously, but moves to make my drink.
“At eight o’clock you want an extra shot? Don’t you sleep?” she laughs. That sweet, sweet sound.
“No,” I say honestly. “I’m too worried about English Lit.” I didn’t sleep much before she invaded my dreams, but now, fuck, now I can’t sleep at all. It’s totally fucking with every aspect of my life, and I hate that it’s out of my control.
Her face drops. Good, I hope she fucking feels bad for what she’s put me through.
“Do you enjoy rejecting me?” I ask while she makes my drink.
“No, I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m just busy and I can’t be involved with you.”
Ouch. “That sounds like I’m fucking Jeffrey Dahmer and you’re scared I’m going to murder you. Christ, what did I ever do to you?” I lift my hat and run my hand through my wet hair. I catch her watching me as I do it.
Maybe she was hurt by an asshole like me once, so she doesn’t want to chance it again. Can I be the good guy for a while? Can I pretend long enough to win the bet and then prove to her that assholes are always assholes and we will always hurt her in the end? Shit. I don’t like this guilt that is washing over me. Guilt sucks as an emotion.
“Nothing. You did nothing to me, but you beat a kid up for no reason. That’s not exactly someone who I want to waste my time on.” She sighs and slides my drink across the counter. I grab it and as I do, I touch her hand. My skin prickles and my eyes dart to hers. She’s staring at me through her dark lashes with those deep ocean blue eyes peering into me.
“He said he wanted to fuck you and called you a slut,” I say casually as I take the lid off my drink and blow on it.
“He what?!” she shrieks, clasping her hands to chest like she is praying.
“I was defending your honor, really, so you should probably thank me by tutoring me.”
Maisy’s face is as pale, as much as her bronze skin allows, while she processes my words.
“Why? Why would he do that? Why would you do that?”
“Cuz you’re hot and he’s a dude who wants to get balls deep. Can’t blame him. You looked smoking hot at that party,” I reply honestly. “Plus, I’m not always a dick.” I’ve finally gotten a reaction out her other than evasion.
“And because of that I’m a slut?” she shrieks again, but this time it’s anger, not shock, that causes the sound. She’s pissed off.
“No, you’re not a slut for being hot. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to stick his dick inside of you,” I chuckle.
She blushes at my crude words and doesn’t know what to say so I continue.
“So, how about this.” I state. “A hundred bucks an hour through the midterm. We can renegotiate your contract if you decide you want to continue through the rest of the semester. I really just need to make sure I get through this midterm. Then football season will be over by the time our final grades come out. Please, Maisy. I’m fucking begging here. You want me on my knees? You want me to kick another dude’s ass? I’ll do it for you. Name it. I’m yours.” I’m a pathetic piece of shit at this point. Did I really just offer myself to her? I’m embarrassed for myself. Thank God this place is practically empty and no one can hear me.
“Donovan, no don’t do that.” She shakes her head. “I’ll tutor you. One hundred is too much. Twenty-five an hour is fair. I’ll work around your football schedule, but I expect you to respect my time, so when we schedule our sessions, you show up. I have other things to do too. And this is strictly professional. You’re not my type. Got it?”
Not her type? What the fuck? I’m everyone’s type. Plus, I have no idea why she wouldn’t jump at my overpriced offer. Most girls practically beg for fancy and flashy. They know my family is loaded and they want high-end, expensive shit. Another quirk I’m learning about Miss Knight. Simple and chill is her taste.
“Absolutely, Owl. I’m all in.”
I offer my hand in a handshake. Really I just want to touch her again, and get the sensation only she can bring out of body. She glances at it skeptically. She finally shakes, and as I wrap my long fingers around her tiny hand I feel a heat spread through my body. My balls shoot to my throat, and for a second I stop breathing. She breaks the handshake and stares at me for a beat before she speaks. Maybe she felt it too.
“Tomorrow, what time is practice?”
“We practice every afternoon from three until six. Except Fridays. Then we go until eight because we watch film after practice to prepare for the game Saturday. Sunday we don’t practice at all. Recovery day.”
“Okay, tomorrow and Thursday at nine, after my shift. Wednesdays I can’t. Sunday, eleven in the morning so I have time to do my own homework. Okay?”
“Okay.” I feel a smile spread across my face and relief wash over me. Not for my grade, not for the bet even, but because I will get to see her. “I’ll see you tomorrow at nine at my place. I’ll text you the address.”
“Your place? No, how about the library?” she asks, but it’s practically a demand.
Sure, I want to study in the George and Eleanor Blake library. The library my parents paid for. Not really a conversation I want to have with her at this point. She already thinks I’m an asshole. I don’t need her to think I’m a pretentious asshole. Plus, I need her somewhere more intimate. I’ll show her just how much I’m her type.
“No, I hate that place. Too many distractions from fans.” I flash her a smile.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “But someday you’ll tell me why you call me Owl.” She tries to stop herself from smiling, but I can see the corners of her beautiful mouth turn up.
“Maybe someday, but doubtful, Owl.” I smile and leave the coffee shop. Finally! I want to do a fucking happy dance or a cartwheel, but I have that twinge of guilt hit me again. I need to figure out how to shut that off.
Chapter 17: Maisy
“You’re going to tutor Donovan Blake? At his house?” Millie’s face is stuck in a state of shock. “And he kicked a kid’s ass defending your honor, like the Karate Kid?”
/>
Millie is unpacking groceries again while I’m sitting on the couch playing Candy Crush before work.
“Yes, Millie. Quite chivalrous. Plus, he is paying me twenty-five dollars an hour and I need the money,” I reply.
“I feel like you’re going to be working too much and not enjoying life.” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a pitiful look while putting ramen packages away on a shelf. “Maybe Blake can help you relax after a long day.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Oh my goodness, stop. I just need the money.”
“I want you to have some fun, Maze. Seriously, all you do is work and study. It’s fucking sad.”
I sigh. If only she knew that I’ve been doing this most of my life. I took care of myself after my mom left when my dad was “working,” and even more so when he went to prison. “Okay, Millie, if I tell you something personal, you swear not to freak out or tell anyone?” She’s one of my best friends on the East Coast and it will be nice to have someone to talk to openly. I feel like I can trust Millie not to share my secret.
“Sure, I promise.”
“Pinky promise.” I hold up my pinky. She hooks her pinky in mine and we shake on it.
“Did you fuck Blake already?”
“Already? No! Jesus, Millie!” I shout and rub my palms into my eyes. “We haven’t even had one session yet, and I can assure you I will not be a notch on Donovan Blake’s bedpost.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Just with his crazy level of hotness and the way he’s pursuing you, I just thought—”
I cut her off. “You thought wrong.”
“What were you going to tell me?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. “I’m poor, Millie. Like almost homeless at one point in my life poor.” I pause to give Millie a minute to process that bomb I just dropped on her.
“Really?” is all she can muster. I don’t look poor, and I’m attending one of the most expensive universities in the United States.
I sigh. This will be the moment when Millie decides if she can like me for me or if she will judge me because of my parents.
“My dad is in prison and my mom took off when I was little. I had a great life with my dad for a while, but for the last three years I’ve basically been on my own.”
She stares at me, unsure of what to ask I’m sure. This is not something she was expecting from me tonight. After a minute or so, she finally asks the question that inevitably follows my admission, “What did he do?”
“He sold drugs. So when he was busted, everything he bought with that drug money was seized by the DEA. I lived with my great aunt when they sent him away. So, while I grew up in Vista Del Cielo for a while, I lived on the west side of L.A. most recently.”
“Jesus.” She pauses. “I’m glad he’s not a murderer.” She starts laughing. “It’s okay, Maze. That’s not a big deal to me. You aren’t your parents’ mistakes. You’re one of the best people I know. Is that why you don’t party and why you want to avoid Blake? Cuz of your dad? Cuz he’s a bad boy too?”
“Millie, if you saw what that lifestyle does to people… My dad was a good guy deep down, but yes, he was bad, and the one and only guy I had back home was a bad boy to his core. I don’t want that life. It’s as fucked up as you read about, probably more so. That’s why I’m here.”
“To escape?” she asks.
“Exactly. I’m happy with my coffee shop and tutoring money. My plan is to get a real job one day and live in a little one-bedroom apartment in L.A. and teach the future generations of America.”
“Two-bedroom, with me while my art exhibit is hanging in a gallery nearby,” she smirks.
“Perfect,” I reply. “Please don’t tell anyone. I moved across the country to not be Drew Knight’s daughter. Please, Millie. I beg you.”
“Your secret is safe, Maisy. It’s not my secret to share. We all get dealt a shitty hand once in a while. Sometimes we can fold it and sometimes we’re forced to play it. Both ways though we still have chips on the table, and the game is never over.” She smiles. I let out a sigh of relief – I lucked out in the roommate department. Millie is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.
“Thanks for being cool about this. I don’t broadcast my life story for a reason. There are only a handful of people I’m close enough to that I can talk to them about this stuff.” Millie strolls over and squeezes me tight. It feels good to be smushed into her. Comforting actually. “Okay, I gotta go.” I pull back and smile at her. “College kids need coffee. I’m tutoring Donovan at nine. I won’t be back until after ten.”
Millie just flashes me a devilish grin. “Enjoy your session.” She doesn’t believe me that I’m just tutoring him. Part of me doesn’t believe it either.
✽✽✽
I take a bus as close as I can to Donovan’s house and walk the rest of the way after my shift at Holy Sip!. It’s a really nice two-story townhouse. Wow. I walk up the three steps to the porch and knock on the door.
A half-naked man answers. “Sup, baby.” He gives me the bro nod. He has an orange mohawk that I remember from the Pi Kappa party. He’s a football player, but I don’t remember his name. Wow, he is super handsome. His abs are divine. It looks like eight baseballs are stuck under his caramel skin, and his black eyes stand out in dramatic contrast. Sharp jaw and thick, full lips. Focus.
“Uh, hey, is Donovan here?” I tear my eyes from his core.
“Nope, sorry. But I’ll take his booty call. You’re fucking hot, even in your chef’s outfit.” He flashes me a brilliant white smile. My face pales and he can see the embarrassment. I look down at my apron from Holy Sip!. “I’m just kidding, baby. Come in, he’s upstairs. You must be the tutor,” he acknowledges and flashes a gorgeous smile, complete with dimples.
“Yeah, I’m Maisy.” I hold out my hand.
“Rhodes.” He shakes my hand and scopes out my entire body in the process. “Mmm, mmm,” he murmurs as I walk past. Awkward. He’s gorgeous, but his handshake didn’t make me sweat and quiver like when Donovan touched me. I walk into a very nice kitchen that opens into a spacious living room. There’s a tower of beer cans on the coffee table, and another guy holding a remote to a paused football game on the TV. He has long blond hair, and unlike Rhodes, is very lean. He looks so young compared to Donovan and Rhodes.
“Hey!” he chirps. So much lighter than his two roommates. I wonder how he ended up here with these two playboys as roommates.
“That’s Jax. You can ignore him,” Rhodes says and plops down on the couch.
Donovan appears from the hallway. “This way, Owl. My room is upstairs.” He gestures toward the hallway stairs.
“We’re studying in your bedroom?” I squeak.
“Yeah, why?” he asks.
“FUCK YOU, JAX!” I hear Rhodes yell.
“Never mind. I can hear why.” I sigh and shake my head. I’m going to Donovan’s bedroom. Better choices, Maze.
“They’ll be going at that for hours. Rhodes will lose every game,” he laughs.
He opens the door to his room, which is the size of the living room in my dorm, with dark wood floors and white trim. Everything else is gray. The color scheme is really appealing. A massive king-sized bed sits in the middle of the room, against the far wall, covered in black bedding. There’s a desk in one corner and a TV on an entertainment center to complete in another. I notice two doors beyond the one we just walked through – does he have two closets? If so, why are there clothes scattered all over? Donovan Blake is a slob.
Donovan jumps onto his bed and scoots toward the headboard. He pats a spot on the bed. “Come on, Owl.”
“Your bed?” I look around again to the clothes covering his desk and chair and half the floor. I wonder if I’m going to need a dose of penicillin just for sitting on his bed. The thought makes me laugh, but also sends a twinge of jealously shooting into my gut.
“Listen, Owl. This is a professional relationship. You’ve made that perfectly clear. Besides, if I wanted to ha
ve sex with you, I wouldn’t be in here.” He gestures around the room.
I furrow my eyebrows. “Am I supposed to understand that statement?”
He chuckles at my confusion. “I don’t sleep with girls in here. There’s a spare bedroom downstairs. My old roommate, Brooks McCarthy, we call him Mac, had all these rules about dating and shit. We all find them to be essential in keeping our love lives,” he pauses, “uncomplicated.”
I think about that for a minute. I don’t quite understand it.
Seeing the contemplation on my face, Donovan stands up and saunters over to the door, I watch his hips sway rhythmically. He opens the door and shouts, “Rhodes!”
“Yeah!” I hear Rhodes respond from downstairs.
“What number was Mac’s rule about fucking in your own bed?”
“Three, I think! Why?”
“No reason! Go back to losing!” He smiles at me. “See, Owl? You’re safe and sound in here.”
“Fine, I believe you,” I laugh but I feel a tad bit disappointed at the same time. Shake it off, Maisy, you don’t want this, remember? “Let’s get started with Gatsby. My time is valuable.”
My phone dings. It’s Bates. Really? Right now? I can hear a groan leave my throat.
“Hey, Maze, how are you? It’s been a while.”
“Hi. I’m working right now. I’ll call you on my way home.”
“Okay, Gatsby. That’s the first book on the list. Did you read it?” I begin.
“Just shoot me,” he whines and flops back on his pillows while throwing his arms over his face. His dramatics make me giggle. His shirt flips up a little and I can see a trail of dark hair leading down to his waistband. He’s so rugged, tough and manly that my insides clench and my eyes follow that trail as far south as they can. He’s not a California boy. Fuck, he is gorgeous. And again, he causes my inner monologue to curse. My palms are sweaty. I nonchalantly wipe them on the comforter.
“Just think of all the cheesy lines from the great classic love stories you can spout off to get ladies in the sack when this class is over,” I deadpan. I know he doesn’t need help in that department. I’ve heard the stories.
Redemption (Cambria University #2) Page 12