Torment

by Chloe Fischer

  She’s better looking than Tommy from last year. I could get used to this, Darien thought, leaning back against the lockers to fold his arms over his chest. He waited for her to finish her thoughts.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” she cooed but even as she tried to sound lighthearted, Darien could hear the nervous undertones of her words. “Can I have your attention for just a second?”

  “You can have my attention for the rest of my life, babe!” Allister yelled and the others hooted in agreement.

  “I’ll settle for a minute right now,” she chuckled, her eyes darting around like she was worried that someone might pounce on her at any minute.

  Settle down, you horny bastards, Darien thought, rolling his eyes in exasperation. It never ceased to amuse him how brains seeped out of men’s heads when a beautiful woman was in their midst. He didn’t remind himself that he had a semi just looking at her.

  “Guys, I’m the new sportswriter for the State and I just wanted to introduce myself,” she began. Darien didn’t miss the slight quiver in her voice and somehow, that made her all that much more appealing. He’d seen too many over-confident women in his time at MSU. It was refreshing to see someone who didn’t seem to be oozing in arrogance, for once.

  “What happened to Tommy the Toad?” someone wanted to know.

  “Are you seriously complaining, Vernon?” someone else barked back. “Shut up.”

  “You can interview me back at my house,” O’Connell called out.

  “Shut up, O’Connell. You can’t even throw the ball straight!” Grayson retorted. “She wants to interview a real man.”

  “I can’t watch this,” Sawyer muttered, laughing and Darien agreed that it was pathetic. Even so, he found himself hard-pressed to look away from the woman as she struggled to regain the attention of the squabbling players.

  “Shut up!” he finally growled as their bickering escalated. They immediately stopped their grumbling and turned back to the woman. For the first time, she met his eyes and Darien felt a lurch in his gut, a magnetism drawing him fully to her face as their gazes locked.

  He read the silent “thank you” in her expression as she cleared her throat and continued on.

  “Anyway,” she added. “I want you to have a great season and I look forward to talking with all of you throughout the school year.”

  “Hear, hear, baby!” Allister agreed. “But are you going to tell us your name or are we going to have to hop online and read that tripe you work for to learn it?”

  A round of appreciative laughter filled the area and she blushed, her olive complexion flushing crimson.

  “Sorry, yeah,” she laughed. “I’m Odette. Odette Stinson.”

  Instantly, the half-smile that had formed on Darien’s lips faded away and a scowl replaced it.

  “Let’s go,” he growled suddenly, turning away to grab his bag from the open locker behind him.

  “Wait!” Sawyer cried. “One minute.”

  “You can wait around and gawk at the wench all you want but if you want to go for drinks, I’m leaving now.”

  He saw Sawyer’s surprised look out of the corner of his eye but he didn’t wait for his friend to reply as he pushed his way through the crowd and headed out of the locker room. He purposely kept his eyes away from Odette’s lovely face, gritting his teeth in anger as he stormed from the area, feeling stupid that he had thought her attractive in the first place.

  “What the hell, Dare? It was just getting good in there!” Sawyer protested, catching up to his friend, his face wrought with confusion.

  “What?” Darien snapped back. “You’re the one who wanted to go out. I’m good to head home.”

  Sawyer didn’t reply as he hurried after Darien but his perplexity was almost palpable.

  “I guess we’ll see enough of her anyway,” Sawyer mused lightly but the words only angered Darien more.

  Not if I can help it, he thought grimly. I’m going to make sure she regrets the minute she ever decided to get into journalism.

  Chapter 3

  Odette was exhausted when she stumbled home after practice that night. It wasn’t that she’d had a particularly trying day—at least, not until she’d ended up in the Wolverines’ locker room.

  She couldn’t think of a time when she had been so emotionally drained after an interview.

  That wasn’t really an interview, she reminded herself. That was putting myself out as a lamb for the slaughter.

  Odette was aware that she was good-looking. It was something that had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember, her Cuban mother’s dark features and her British father’s height and slender frame a startling combination for most men and some women.

  Of her four sisters, Odette was sure she was the only one who didn’t particularly care about her attractiveness. The others had been content to use their good looks to whatever advantage they could find, whether it be landing husbands or talking themselves out of speeding tickets. Odette, on the other hand, had always seen her looks as a mild curse. It was difficult for interviewees to take her seriously, she found, and it bothered her.

  Being front and center in the locker room, all the insecurities she’d had about her prettiness had come flooding back but as she made her way back to the house, she began to wonder if maybe, for once, she couldn’t also cash in on her charms.

  It will hide the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing, she reasoned, and she was instantly ashamed.

  If she didn’t know what she was doing, she had no business being a sports writer and needed to admit her defeat.

  And let Marcus win? Over my dead body.

  She thought of the huge, blonde man who had silenced the team and a flush of appreciation shot through her body. Maybe there were perks to being an attractive sports writer after all.

  Odette had wanted to personally thank him after she’d made her spiel to the group but he had left so abruptly, she hadn’t had a chance. She hadn’t even gotten his name but that wouldn’t be hard to find. The following day, she’d be talking to the coach for a full roster of names and positions so that she could form some kind of game plan for interviews.

  The past week had been nothing but Google searches and watching football games for Odette. She had fully expected to be bored out of her tree but surprisingly, she had enjoyed herself more than she cared to admit.

  Maybe Daddy’s work did rub off on me more than I realized, she thought before casting the thought of her father aside. Edward Stinson had no place at MSU.

  Temperance wasn’t home but Vic was and the third roommate barely glanced up from her spot in the living room when Odette entered the front door. As always, Vic said nothing, returning her full attention back to the novel she was reading on the worn armchair next to the non-functioning fireplace.

  “Hey,” Odette muttered, knowing that Vic wouldn’t say anything if she didn’t speak first. Even so, Vic grunted in response. It never ceased to amaze her how different were her two roommates. Temperance never stopped talking and Victoria barely said two words if she could avoid it. She reasoned that she was the middle ground, the balance in the household and that thought scared her.

  Odette carried on toward the kitchen, setting her bag down on the table before moving for the fridge. She was starving and she realized she hadn’t eaten all day.

  I need to get back into a routine. I’m going to need all the energy I can get this year.

  She knew it was only bound to get worse as the months progressed.

  Pulling out the fixings for a sandwich, she hastily threw together a turkey and cheese creation, slathering on some mayo and plopping down at the antique wooden table to eat it, phone in hand.

  She hadn’t checked her emails all day either and to her surprise, she found that her mother had sent one, as well as her sister, Mia.

  With a mounting dread, she opened the email from her mother, already knowing what it was going to say before she read it.

  Hola mi amor, tu padre va estan a
qui a Navidad. Llama me.

  The sandwich stuck in Odette’s throat as she eyed the words with disdain. She didn’t bother to check Mia’s message. She knew it read the same. Her father was coming home for Christmas and they expected her to return home to Florida, like it was some momentous occasion.

  As she sat, unmoving, another email shot into her inbox, this one from Callie and Odette quickly shut off her phone, knowing that her oldest sister was about to follow up her message with a phone call.

  So what if he’s coming home for once at Christmas? I have other shit to worry about than appeasing Edward’s comings and goings.

  She didn’t remind herself that she hadn’t been home since her first year and that her family probably missed her.

  The question was, did she miss them?

  “You gonna eat that?”

  Odette jumped, spinning her head as Vic appeared in the kitchen.

  “Christ, Vic. You’re like a cat. You need a bell around your neck or something.”

  Vic didn’t crack a smile, her dark eyebrows raised as she looked at Odette’s half-eaten sandwich. Odette suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore and she shook her head, sliding the plate toward her.

  “No. I’m going to bed.”

  As she rose, she heard the front door open and Odette quickened her step, eager to escape Temperance’s barrage of endless questions before they started. To her relief, she made it up the stairs before her roommate came into view and locked herself in her room again, sinking onto the bed.

  Reaching for the remote control, she flicked on Netflix and put on Stranger Things, even though she’d seen it a dozen times before. It was good programming for her to fall asleep to, the background noise giving her peculiar dreams. And Odette loved to dream.

  But as she closed her eyes and let the synthesized theme music fill her ears, her mind was not on Winona Ryder’s irritating voice.

  It was on the handsome football player who had silenced the room with two words.

  Somehow, she overslept and as she flew over the MSU campus, her curls flying behind her in a mess of tangles, Odette almost ran fully into the man whose face she’d fallen asleep to. Up close, her breath was stolen as she took in the surreal green of his eyes, her own gaze registering surprise as he reached out a hand to steady her from falling backward. The feel of his strong palm on her bare arm sent shivers of excitement through her.

  I wasn’t imagining that yesterday. This guy is smoking hot!

  At least she wouldn’t have to wait to speak with Coach Wilder to learn his name.

  “Oh!” she laughed, barely regaining her composure. “Sorry!”

  The light in his eyes seemed to fade entirely when they rested squarely on her and he dropped her arm as if he’d been burned. Without responding, he turned away and began making his way in the direction he’d come.

  “Hey, thanks for getting the guys to calm down yesterday!” she called out after him, slightly perplexed by his reaction.

  He doesn’t remember me, she thought, the realization somewhat humiliating. She had lapsed into an elaborate fantasy about him and he was putting as much distance between them as he could.

  He paused mid step, and looked at her with narrowed eyes over his shoulder.

  “What?”

  His tone was brusque, rude even.

  “I-I’m Odette,” she stuttered, suddenly feeling very foolish. “Odette Stinson? I was in the locker room after your practice yesterday and—”

  “I know who you are.”

  His words almost cut her, they were spoken so sharply. Her smile faded slightly.

  You’re bothering him. Let him go.

  “I-I just wanted to say thank you,” she faltered, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. For a long moment, he held her eyes and Odette tried desperately to read what he was thinking but it was impossible. A veil had formed over his eyes.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked slowly. Odette got the sense that it was a loaded question but she answered honestly.

  “No,” she replied.

  I had been hoping to find out, she thought but wisely didn’t add that.

  “I’m Darien Fowler. Quarterback.”

  A slight glimmer of relief passed through Odette and she gave him a stronger smile.

  “Of course. I read about you. Your stats are incredible and it looks like you’re a shoo-in for the NFL. I was—”

  “So you’re supposed to be a sports writer and you don’t know the star players on the team. Tell me, do you know the name of MSU’s football team?”

  His tone was mocking and sarcastic, causing Odette’s beam to slip away again.

  “Of course I do,” she retorted defensively but she also knew Darien was right. She should have known the team members inside and out before ever venturing forward to talk to them.

  I insulted him. He has every right to be angry but does he have to be such a prick about it?

  “Well, at least you know something,” he snorted, spinning away to leave Odette gaping after him. “And try to watch where the hell you’re going in the future.”

  He was gone, out of earshot before she could think of an appropriate response, embarrassment coupling with anger as she watched him disappear.

  Why are you so shocked? She thought, shaking her head and readjusting her backpack to continue toward her class. You already knew that athletes are assholes. Why should he be any different?

  But even with that in mind, Odette couldn’t shake the intense feeling of disappointment bubbling in her gut. Maybe she had just hoped that Darien was different.

  Why? Because he’s hot? The entire team is hot and at least they like you. Screw him.

  She wondered what it would be like to do just that—screw Darien Fowler, if only one time.

  Chapter 4

  Running into Odette had affected him more than Darien had wanted to admit. Seeing her up close had done something to his body that he was sure he’d never felt before, like he’d been consumed by a wave of hot and cold simultaneously.

  So she’s hot. Who cares? She’s also the devil.

  It wasn’t an idle thought. He knew exactly who she was and the destruction she had caused around campus with her articles. The girl was a shit-disturber on wheels and Darien had no intention of letting her anywhere near his team. Nothing good could come of Odette Stinson nosing around and he intended to keep her at bay.

  No matter how his chemistry was responding to her.

  He jogged toward his English Lit lecture and barely made it in the door before Professor Collins took the podium to intone about Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children.

  Usually, he liked this class but that day, he was too distracted and tired to pay much attention to Collins’ monotonous voice. It had been a long night after all and between the lack of sleep and seeing Odette Stinson, he was beginning to feel like there was no redemption for Wednesday already.

  “Psst.”

  He looked back at Allister who had leaned down to hiss in his ear.

  “What?”

  “You better play your best this weekend. The NFL scouts are out.”

  Darien gave him a lopsided smirk and turned his wide shoulders back toward the front, ignoring his friend’s teasing.

  “Then you better make me look good,” he replied and Allister snorted.

  “I hope that hot little number comes back to practice tonight,” he sighed and Darien’s head jerked back around.

  “What?” he demanded, a flash of annoyance surging through him. “What hot number?”

  He knew exactly whom Al was referencing but for some reason, he felt the need to draw out the answer from him.

  “Collette or Lisette or whatever the hell her name is. The exotic looking reporter chick.”

  “Odette.” He spoke her name before he could stop himself and he loathed himself for saying it aloud, like she was the Candyman or something and merely speaking it would conjure her from the depths of whatever pits she lived in.

  “Right. Odette.
She really is an improvement on Tommy,” Allister continued, getting an almost dreamy stare in his eyes. “Where did she come from?”

  The question was rhetorical but Darien couldn’t resist barking back an answer.

  “She’s crawled out of the depth of hell,” he snapped. “She used to write current events for the State and now, for some reason, we’re stuck with her.”

  Al’s eyes widened with interest.

  “I didn’t know that,” he said slowly. “It’s good to know. I’ll have to read some of her articles so I can charm her with my knowledge.”

  “You do that,” Darien hissed back. “And then see if you have any interest in her at all.”

  Confusion overcame Allister’s face.

  “Why? What did she write about?”

  Darien grunted.

  “She tries to take out anyone and everything. She doesn’t write facts, she writes garbage. And they wonder why they say objective journalism is dead.”

  Allister chuckled.

  “Wow. You really have a hard on for her, huh?”

  “I just think that the tabloids should stay in the tabloids,” he growled back. “But if you think a liar is sexy then by all means, go for it.”

  Now why did I say that? I don’t want Odette around any of my teammates.

  But he wondered if that was because he was worried about her or because he was jealous.

  The unbidden thought made him balk.

  Jealous of what? You really didn’t get enough sleep last night, did you?

  Grinding his even teeth, Darien fully shifted his body back toward Professor Collins, determined not to let Odette Stinson monopolize another minute of his day. His life was full enough without worrying about a busybody like her.

  Practice went a lot more seamlessly that afternoon but when Coach Wilder called the end to practice, Darien realized that Odette had been watching from the sidelines. He only became aware of this when the team all but flocked to her afterward, smiling and flirtatious. Appalled, Darien could only watch his brothers in uniform vie for her attention, disbelief coloring him.