by Anna B. Doe
“My head is in the game,” I grit, pissed he would even think that. “No need to worry about that.”
He stares at me intently for a while before nodding curtly. “Fine, I hope you’re right.”
Then he turns around and walks back toward the entrance of Moore’s.
“You’re not the only one who has everything riding on this year,” I call after him.
Nix just lifts his hand, but it’s the only acknowledgment I get. Looking down, I see my hands are clenched tight into fists, so I force them to relax.
No matter if I want to admit it to Nix or not, he’s right, on more than one thing. Callie Stewart is already messing with my head, which is the last thing I need if I want to help my team win the championship this year. So, I’m going back to what I should have done in the first place—do my best to avoid her at all costs.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out and check who it is.
Tamara: Where are you?
Me: Moore’s.
Tamara: Want company?
I think about it for a moment. My head is a mess, and I know the guys will be their noisy selves if I go back inside. Tamara, on the other hand, is simple. And that’s exactly what I need.
Me: You? Always.
Chapter Seven
CALLIE
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chloe’s big eyes turn to look at me warily. “You stormed out of Moore’s the other night and…”
“I’m fine. I just wasn’t feeling it the other night.”
“So it wasn’t anything I said?”
Callie-Bear.
The words come rushing back almost instantly. Followed by the rapid pounding of my heart. A light sheen of sweat covers my palms, making them all sticky. My body’s reaction is so familiar now it became a part of me.
Thankfully, I managed to avoid a full-on panic attack on Friday night thanks to Hayden. Not something I would have imagined I’d ever say, but it’s true. His prissy behavior made me forget the reason why I stormed out of Moore’s without an explanation, and it only returned once I was back in the safety of my bedroom where I stayed for the rest of the weekend, thank you very much. I didn’t want any more awkward run-ins with a certain broody player. And I even continued with the avoiding streak three days into the first week of classes. It gave me hope that avoiding Hayden Watson will be easier than I thought.
I swallow the lump that formed in my throat and force a smile out. “Nope, I’m just not good with crowds.”
Chloe’s still watching me carefully, trying to figure out how much of it is the truth and how much is just a bull bravado.
In all honesty, I’d have preferred avoiding Chloe, Yasmin, and everybody else altogether, but when I stumbled out of bed—late I might add because that’s just my luck—she was just exiting her room, and look at that, we were both going to the same Spanish class. I couldn’t ignore her, now could I? That would be something old Callie would have done, but I’m not her. At least I’m trying not to be. Not like it’s always easy.
Sighing, I run my hand over my face. Even with my trusty baseball cap shielding my eyes, they burn from the bright sunlight and lack of sleep. Between the move and all the past memories that keep popping in my mind, I was even wearier of my nightmares than usual. I’m already a spectacle as it is, I don’t need to add more melodrama to it.
Every time I left my dorm room, I could see curious glances thrown my way, I could hear the whispers following me wherever I go. I’m not stupid. I know they talk about me. I know they’re coming up with stories of what could have happened to me. I can hear their snickers and insults. I’m not deaf or stupid.
Beast.
Monster.
Scargly.
At least they could be more original. It’s not like I haven’t heard them before.
But even the people who are nice to me like Yasmin and Chloe, if they knew the full extent of it… if they knew the whole story… would they still stick around?
So I stayed awake for as long as I could, so long my eyes burned from the lack of sleep, so long I was dead tired before I would finally let it claim me. Because maybe if I’m too tired, nightmares would stay away.
“Didn’t sleep well?” Chloe finally changes the subject when she sees me stifling another loud yawn.
“Not one bit,” I answer truthfully.
She looks down at her watch. “Well, we don’t have time for a coffee stop but once the class is over we could go and grab something.” Those dark eyes peek at me. “If you don’t have another class right after, that is.”
I go over my schedule in my head. “I don’t, but—”
“Excellent! There is this cute coffee shop on campus that has the best coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
My ears perk up at that. No matter how much I hate the crowds, my body requires energy. STAT. I have two more classes later in the afternoon, and if I don’t recharge soon, I’m going to slowly wither and die.
“Well… I could use some coffee.”
“Don’t we all?” She shakes her head, climbing two steps at a time into the building.
Chloe marches in front of me, and although we’re around the same height, she’s much faster than I am, always walking a couple of steps in front of me while I try to keep up with her. By the time we climb the language building, my leg muscles ache, my whole body sweaty.
I had to skip the usual stretching I did every morning in favor of getting my ass to class on time, so I’m even slower than I would usually be. I barely had enough time to put on some clothes and a little bit of my trusty foundation to cover the worst of my scars. Then I braided my hair in a loose braid, tucked a baseball cap on my head and called it a day.
After all, I’m here to get my degree, not to win any beauty pageants.
When we finally climb to the second floor where Spanish 101 is held, I feel breathless. The shallow ache has grown into a full-on throbbing and I can only hope I’d make it to the class without falling on my ass.
“It’s right around the corner,” Chloe pipes in, looking at me over her shoulder with worry. She either can read minds or I’m that transparent. Probably the latter.
Fucking finally, is what I want to say, but mumble instead a curt: “Great.”
If I don’t sit down soon, I’m going to fall on my ass.
The girl has to be a saint. She doesn’t ask anything or comment on my slow walk, letting me go at my own pace.
Sweat coats my forehead when I reach the door to the classroom. I grip at the doorway, leaning some of my weight against it for a few seconds to level my breathing before I enter inside.
“You know I don’t want to pry but…”
“I’m fine.” When I see her skeptical face, I smile, puffing out a breath. “Really. With moving and all, I skipped a few gym sessions, that’s all.” Taking in another shaky breath, I nod. “I’m good. C’mon, let’s find a seat.”
When she doesn’t move quickly enough, I slip inside next to her.
The auditorium is mostly filled by now, but by some miracle, we managed to arrive on time. Or at least before the professor showed up.
I lift my head, sweeping the space for an open seat when my eyes collide with the familiar green gaze.
Stopping in my tracks, I mutter. “You gotta be shitting me.”
Life can’t be so cruel. Only it can. It is.
Hayden-fucking-Watson.
Those jade eyes narrow as he looks at me. I want to break the contact, but his gaze holds me hostage. He’s sprawled in his seat like he owns the place. Plain black tee stretching over his wide shoulders, revealing a sleeve of ink covering one of his muscular arms. If those few looks I caught thrown his way are any indication, he probably is.
That taut jaw, covered in a few day’s old stubble tics, full lips pressing into a tight line. He looks even bigger and scarier in the light of the day than he did a few days ago when I first saw him in the bar.
I should have known avoiding him for five whole days was too good to be
true. He warned me then that this place is too small for the two of us, but I didn’t want to believe him.
And just like he can read my mind, one of his brows quirks in a challenge.
Just ignore him, he’ll get over it.
Pulling the bill of my cap lower, I put my good leg on the first step. Then I see it. A delicate hand curls around his bicep, drawing his attention. He breaks our staring game, giving all of his attention to the girl sitting next to him. A girl I didn’t even see until now.
She’s pretty. Tall, with creamy skin and straight, dark brown hair tucked safely behind her ears. She’s dressed in a light summer dress with thin straps. Something I used to wear all the time, but you couldn’t pressure me to put on now if you held a gun against my forehead.
“Oh boy…”
“Yup,” I mutter. Just what I needed.
Ignoring the emotions I don’t even want to name, I look away and slowly start climbing.
I want to take two steps at a time, but I know if I even attempt to do it, I’ll most likely fall on my ass and embarrass myself even further.
Only when I’m at a safe distance, or as safe as I can be given the fact that we’re taking the same class, I slide into the first open seat and sigh in relief when my butt touches the chair, taking the pressure off my strained muscles.
I seriously need to find a new physical therapist as soon as possible. Although overall, I’m doing better than right after the accident, I’ll never be the same. The extent of my injuries was grave. My face is just the beginning of it, and those who think it’s the worst part are sorely mistaken.
I’d take any face injury I could just to be able to walk normally again. My leg was broken in various places, my muscles torn and patched back together. And even after months of physical therapy, if I overdo it, the pain can grow so strong I wished I wasn’t able to walk again at all.
Doctors suggested plastic surgery to repair the damage done on the outside, but I refused it. I didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. I still don’t. So I wear my scars as a reminder of all I’ve been through. All I did and all I lost.
“I think you have to be the unluckiest person in Blairwood.”
“What makes you think so?” I ask flatly, extending my leg in front of me a few times while at the same time massaging my throbbing thigh. “The fact that I’m a nineteen-year-old girl with the joints of an eighty-year-old granny or the fact that I have to share the class with somebody who wishes I was dead?”
From the corner of my eyes, I see her brown eyes blink a few times as she tries to find the right answer to my blunt question. “That’s a bit extreme.”
“You think?”
“You’re grumpy when you’re sleep-deprived.”
“I’m grumpy when I’m in pain,” I counter just as I find the spot that hurts the worst and apply more pressure to it.
Her mouth hangs open.
Sighing, I let my leg fall back on the floor before I turn in my chair to give her my full attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bitch.”
“No, it’s okay…” She looks down at my leg like she sees it for the first time. My leggings cover me completely so she can’t see the damage, but she knows something isn’t right because of my limp.
“No, it’s not. Don’t make excuses for me just because you feel sorry.”
Chloe glares at me. “I don’t feel sorry for you, I feel bad because you’re in pain. If you weren’t, I’d kick you in the ass.”
God, I’m so bad at this.
“Chloe, I…”
But like she said, I’m apparently the unluckiest person alive because just then the professor enters the classroom. “Settle down, everybody.”
The poor dude has to clear his throat a few times for the chatter to die down.
“I’m Professor Adam Perez and I’ll be…”
The door squeaks open once again. I can see his resigned sigh when all the heads turn to look at the tall, blonde guy slipping inside.
I’d most likely die of embarrassment to have all the eyes on me, but the guy flashes us all a wide grin not bothered in the least with all the attention. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Just take a seat, Mr. Cole.”
“Mr. Cole?” I whisper, narrowing my eyes to look at the guy better. He seems familiar, although I can’t quite…
“Nixon Cole,” Chloe murmurs quietly. “Sophomore, quarterback of Blairwood Ravens and Hayden Watson’s best friend and roommate.”
I turn my head so quickly I think I pulled a muscle. Who the hell is this girl? Stats come out of her mouth with a speed I didn’t think humanly possible. And how the hell does she know all this stuff anyway?
“I told you, it’s my job to know things like that.” She shrugs, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger.
I shake my head, not even wanting to ask what else she knows. Not daring to even wonder if she knows about me. What she might know about me.
Just then I feel a slight shift on the left. Slowly, I turn around and then do a double take, just to make sure I’m seeing right.
He looks even taller up close than he did when he entered the room. His hair isn’t blonde like it seemed at first, but light brown streaked with sun-kissed highlights. It’s disheveled and there is a spark of mischief shining in his grayish-blue eyes that are surrounded by the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man. That smirk of his is still playing on his lips like he just heard a very funny joke he doesn’t want to share with anybody.
“This seat taken?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, not knowing what to say. It’s a free country, so it’s not like I can prevent him from sitting down. But he doesn’t wait for my answer before plopping his ass next to mine.
All eyes are on us, and you can hear a pin drop. The professor uses that moment to introduce himself and talk about the class. I look down, busying myself with opening my notebook and scribbling down—I don’t even know what. Anything, just so I don’t have to look up and see all the eyes glued to me.
But of course, it can’t be that easy.
Nixon Cole leans into his chair, his wide shoulders brushing against mine as he shifts. One of his hands lands behind me in an almost hug. I suck in a breath, tilting my head to the side.
Is this guy for real?
That wicked grin awaits me in the corner of my eyes. He extends his free hand. I look at it for a few heartbeats before reluctantly taking it for a handshake.
He leans into me, so close his lips brush against my ear and make the fine hair at the nape of my neck rise.
“I’m Nixon Cole.”
His voice is as sexy as he is. Deep and with just enough rasp to make me squirm. I have to clear my throat, but either way, my words come out hoarse. “So I’ve heard.”
His smirk widens. “You’re not the only one, Callie Stewart.”
Chapter Eight
HAYDEN
What the hell does he think he’s doing?
I turn to look over my shoulder, just in time to catch Nix throwing his famous smirk at Callie and making her blush.
Fucking blush!
“Hayden?” Tamara puts her hand on mine, drawing my attention away from my ex-best friend back to the front of the class and her.
She looks hot today in that prim and proper way that’s typical for her. A pale dress shows off her long, tanned legs and with that sleek, dark hair falling down her back she looks sexy and fuckable. I should be thinking about getting under her skirt, but all I can think about is a certain blonde sitting a few rows behind.
“Yeah?” I mutter, half of my attention still at the back of the auditorium wondering what the fuck is Nix doing sitting with Callie of all people.
I knew this was going to be a shitshow from the moment I saw her and I was right. Not only is she on the campus, but we’re apparently also sharing a class together. Could this get any more fucked up?
“Where’s your head at?”
Good question. And I’m not sure either of us w
ould like the answer to it.
I didn’t expect either of them to be in this class. Much less for Tamara to come and sit with me after I abruptly left on Friday. Seeing Callie and my discussion with Nix messed with my head. I met with Tamara shortly after but wasn’t in the mood for talking about shit. We fucked in her dorm, and I left soon after. She said she understands, but I’m starting to wonder.
“Hayden?” Tamara whispers, nudging me with her elbow. I shake my head to clear my mind and turn to the side to give her my attention. The professor is talking animatedly, waving hands and all as he explains the syllabus that landed in our email inboxes last night since BWU is all about saving trees and shit.
“Sorry, I’ve been out of it.”
That’s putting it mildly. No matter how much I tried to focus on my classes and the upcoming season, my mind keeps drifting to one person I shouldn’t be thinking about.
She rolls her eyes at me. “The start of the season has you worried?”
“Hell, no,” I say instantly, my voice louder than I anticipated. A few of our classmates turn toward us. Some of them curious as to what’s going on, others pissed off at the interruption. Ask me if I care. “If I’m certain about one thing, it’s football.”
I’ve worked my ass off since leaving California, although I really didn’t have to since I wasn’t half bad to begin with. You’d be surprised what a team with normal people who treat you like a decent human and teammate can do for a guy. Still, I worked my ass off since the coach gave me a chance to try out my senior year.
“You boys and your balls,” she teases playfully, and I can’t help the grin that tips my lips.
“What can I say? We simply can’t resist playing with them.”
Tamara laughs, the sound low and husky, shaking her head. Her long hair slips from behind her ear and brushes against her collarbones, drawing my attention to her cleavage. What can I say, the girl has a nice rack.
I hope that’s the end of our conversation, but something over my shoulder catches her attention. A frown appears between her brows and she tilts her head to the side curiously. My whole body itches to turn around to see what’s causing her expression, but I don’t want to be obvious.