by Amber Heart
And just because he hadn’t made the appointment right away, that didn’t mean that he was untrustworthy. He busted his ass for the team and the coach knew him pretty well. All they’d had to do was ask. It wasn’t like he would have lied.
For one thing, there would have been no point to it. There were probably records at the student center that would make it easy to trace whether or not he’d been there without having to have his tutor sign things. He couldn’t help but feel like they were trying to humiliate him.
Chase pushed his sweaty hair back and caught his breath as the student center came into view. He pulled out his phone as he walked and checked the time anxiously. He had 4 minutes left. He’d probably be a minute or two late at this pace. Would that be close enough?
He imagined his tutor eyeing the clock, poised to call his coach and get him yanked off the team for being so much as a minute late. In his mind's eye, she was smug. Probably tapping her pencil on her notebook. He hated it when people tapped their pencils or clicked their pens.
He began to jog. After all, he was known for his speed on the field. He could get there on time. Of course, on the field, he wasn’t wearing a backpack. The math binder in his backpack shifted as he picked up the pace and the corner dug into his spine with every step.
He dodged around some of the people chatting and completely blocking the sidewalk. They looked at him like he was crazy, but he ignored it. Assholes.
What the hell was the big deal about math anyway? It wasn’t like he was going to be a mathematician when he got out of college. He was going to play for the NFL. No questions asked. It was what he’d pushed for his whole life. It was why he’d left Montana to come to the pits of a humid hell. Just so he could play for a better team. Not so he could catch shit from his coach because he didn’t understand fucking trig.
Chase shoved the student center door open and looked at the clock on the wall. 3:30 on the dot. At least one thing was going right. He stepped up to the desk and waited for the receptionist to look up him. From the other guy’s unimpressed look, he knew that he looked exactly like he’d run across most of the campus. He straightened his shoulders. It wasn’t like he was there to impress the receptionist.
“I had an appointment,” he began and then realized that neither his teacher nor his coach had given him his tutor’s name. “Um, at 3:30.” Now he felt even dumber, which he definitely did not need.
The receptionist typed something briefly and then spoke without looking at him again. “Go on back to cubicle 5. She’ll be there in just a second.”
Chase slung his backpack into the corner of the small cubicle and dropped into the chair. He slouched down, stretching his legs out and leaning his head back, feeling his back and neck muscles stretch. They’d gone so tense that it actually hurt. He took several long and slow breaths, trying to regulate his heartbeat and get his temper under control. He could feel it slipping farther and farther away as his neck continued to hurt and his tutor continued to be absent.
He closed his eyes and focused on the air conditioner. It wasn’t doing a great job, but it was better than being outside. He wanted to feel superior for making it there before the tutor, but all he managed to feel was annoyed by the fact that she still hadn’t showed. Did she think he wanted to sit around waiting for her all damn day? That he’d wanted to run across the quad like a moron to make it to an appointment that she clearly didn’t give a shit about?
Somewhere, in the back of his mind where he could still manage to be logical, he knew that he was only making things worse for himself with the list of annoyances. But he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. He felt micromanaged, he felt like a kid again, and worst of all, he felt like a complete idiot.
His sister Sydney had managed to drag him through high school math. And he’d absolutely owned probability and statistics in freshman year, which had made him think that his troubles with math were over. And then trig had showed up and bitch slapped him.
He honestly didn’t think that there was anything anyone could say that would help him understand the subject. And he wasn’t anxious to start making a fool of himself again so soon after the meeting with Coach Davis and Professor Porter. He rubbed his hands over his face and leaned forward. It eased the pain in his neck slightly, but it didn’t do anything for his shoulder tension.
“Would you show up so that I can get this over with?” he muttered into his hands.
As if in response to his question he heard someone walk in, shuffling papers and speaking in a cheerful tone that grated on his raw nerves.
“Hi! Sorry that I’m running just a little late today! I’m your tutor, Claire--”
She broke off when she stepped behind the desk and in front of him, her eyes widening and her face going slightly pale.
“Chase?”
It took him a second to put it together, but when he did, he sat up straight in complete shock. Just his luck. His tutor was Logan’s ex-girlfriend, Claire Montgomery.
****
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, finally losing the last vestiges of his temper as looked at her.
This was the girl who had messed Logan up for the entire semester, who’d made him late to practices, who’d taken his attention when it needed to be on the game, the one who’d lied, cheated, and stolen. Who’d threatened suicide attempts just for attention. Who had done her best to ruin his teammate’s life. And he was supposed to spend God only knew how much time a week with her?
“I work here,” she said, sitting down and watching him carefully. “They didn’t tell you who you’d be meeting with, I guess? They didn’t tell me either.”
He snorted. “If they had, I wouldn’t have bothered to show up.”
Claire took a deep breath. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But your coach said that you really need help and--”
He crossed his arms, sitting up straight and staring her down. She looked so composed. In contrast to her clean and neat appearance, he was a sweaty, exhausted mess. And he didn’t know why it bugged him that she was seeing him this way. He wanted to do something to shake her up, to break that composure.
“How do I know that you even know what you’re doing?” he demanded.
“We’re all vetted by the university,” Claire said, pointing to a certification on the wall of her cubicle. “Also, I haven’t made less than an A in a math class in my entire time as a student. I got an award for it in high school.” She pointed to another certificate on the opposite wall.
“Well, good for you,” Chase muttered bitterly, feeling that the fact that he’d literally never made an A in a math class while she’d never made less than that was just the icing on the cake.
“I have your schedule here,” she went on, pulling it from the folder she’d put on the desk between them.
He looked it over. Then he looked again, completely shocked. He’d be spending almost as much time with her as he was going to spend on the field. It was going to be like a part time job.
“Are you kidding me?” he demanded.
Claire jumped slightly at his raised voice. “No--”
“This isn’t going to work,” he cut in, making sure that his voice was lower this time. She might be crazy, but it didn’t mean that he wanted to scare her.
She bit her lower lip and took a breath. “This is what Coach Davis wanted. He and Professor Porter are the ones who made the schedule, not me.”
Chase pushed the paper back across the desk. “I don’t care. This is crazy. I’ve got other classes and shit to do for them and football to worry about and I’m not about to spend this many hours a week with you.”
“If you’re not comfortable with me--” she began, her voice trembling slightly.
“I’m not. Not with everything I know about you.”
Her face went from pale to flushed. “Chase--”
He shoved the note from Professor Porter across the desk. “Why don’t you just sign this and get to work on finding me someone else? Maybe so
meone who can actually help me stay on the team, because I know that you don’t give a damn about it.”
Claire signed the paper without speaking, her face still bright pink. Then she slid it back across the desk without looking at him again. Chase shoved it into his pocket, grabbed his backpack, and stood up. He walked out without speaking again.
He walked past the reception desk, pleased that it was empty. There’d be no one to report that he’d left less than ten minutes into his tutoring session. Unless she did it herself. But he didn’t think she’d say anything. She’d signed the paper without argument.
As he stepped into the bright sunshine he wondered why did it have to be her. And why she had to look like that.
His pace slowed as he remembered her. She and Logan had broken up right after the start of the year, so Chase had only seen her a handful of times. And he’d been busy all of those times, trying to get to know his new team and get settled into the university. And he’d been so screwed up over Maria that he wouldn’t have noticed Miss America at that point.
But Claire...well, she wasn’t Miss America, but he sure as hell hadn’t remembered her looking like that. She was that kind of unusual pretty that probably made people stop and stare. Her long dark hair and pale skin made her look almost otherworldly, especially combined with her big dark eyes. And her body...she was tall for a girl, probably 5’9 or better and she was built lean and lithe, adding to her uncommon beauty.
And he’d been a complete dick to her. Chase turned on the quad, looking back at the student center as a flash of guilt tore through him. Had he seen a shine of tears in those dark brown eyes when he’d stood up? He was almost sure that he had now that he looked back on it. Should he go back? Say that he was sorry?
No. That was crazy. She was probably a consummately skilled liar. She’d certainly convinced Logan to stay with her through countless cheating episodes and other bullshit. At the end of the day, no matter how bad he felt, Chase knew Logan and he didn’t know her. He was pretty sure that he could trust his teammate over Claire Montgomery.
Chapter 3
Claire sat in her cubicle, simply staring at the chair the wide receiver had vacated so abruptly. She remembered him from the beginning of the year, but he hadn’t been anything like she’d thought he’d be. When he’d transferred in, there had been a lot of talk because of his amazing stats. There had been an interview for the student news and she’d read it with interest. He’d been well spoken, verging on slightly shy in the interview. Sort of charming in a way, actually. In other words, nothing like the guy who’d just walked out on her.
Of course, with all the time he’d spent with Logan, she would have been completely shocked if he had liked her. At this point, she would have been amazed if he’d been civil. Which he certainly hadn’t been. Her hands were still trembling and her signature had looked awful. It had been all she could do not to shake visibly in front of him.
“This is nothing new, Claire,” she muttered to herself. A breakdown here in the student center was the last thing she wanted. “Shake it off.”
But with people treating her this way on a daily basis, it was getting harder and harder to do. When her throat tightened and tears threatened, she pushed herself up and headed down the hall to the office. She couldn’t fix most of it, but at least she could take care of one thing. Chase Franklin wouldn’t be her problem after this. She knocked on the supervisor’s door briskly.
“Come in,” Alice called.
“Hi.” Claire moved a stack of files out of one of the chairs and dropped down into it. Alice liked it when her employees got right to the point, so she kept it simple. “I was wondering if I could trade my new student.”
Alice glanced up from her computer and blinked a few times. Then it clicked. “Oh, the football guy?”
Claire felt a smile tug at her lips. Alice was a lot of things, but football fan wasn’t one of them. She might be the only person on campus who didn’t know about the drama surrounding Claire and Logan. Which was probably why Alice was the only person who still liked her.
“Yeah, I’m thinking that my schedule might be getting kind of full, especially with how much help he needs.” When Alice didn’t look swayed by that information, Claire went on. She could afford to be a little honest, but not too much. “And I don’t think he was too impressed with me. He might prefer someone different. Maybe Tony?”
Alice leaned back. “He’s failing trig, right?”
“Yes,” Claire said slowly, afraid that she could see where this was going. “But--”
“But nothing. Tony’s not nearly as good at trig as you are. And apparently this guy is important to the team. He’s the catcher or something.”
This time Claire did smile. “He’s the wide receiver.”
“Look, all I know about the guy is that he’s terrible at math,” Alice said bluntly. “And you’re the best we’ve got. His coach called personally or I’d try to get you off the hook. The best I can do for you right now is take someone else off of your schedule to try to open it up a little.”
Claire nodded, her throat tightening once more as she realized that she was stuck with Chase for the foreseeable future. “Okay, that sounds fine,” she said. She had to get out of there before she lost it. “See you later, Alice.”
Alice had already turned back to her computer, probably looking through Claire’s schedule. “See you,” she said absently.
Claire grabbed her bag and headed out the door, hurrying for her townhouse rental as fast as she could. At least the football player had been her last appointment. She could spend some time catching up on her other assignments with her free time. Or she could cry. She knew which one sounded better at this point.
Her phone rang when she was halfway across the quad. She glanced at the display and contemplated not answering, but it really had been a while since they’d spoken. She tried to inject some life into her voice as she answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey there, big sister!”
Kailey’s cheerful voice filled her ear and she felt herself relax just slightly. “Hey there, little sister.”
“What are you doing?” her sister asked.
Claire could hear music playing in the background and knew that 17 year old Kailey was probably sprawled across her bed in the room that she and Claire had shared back home, watching lyric videos on YouTube. It was a nice comfortable mental image and it gave Claire an intense longing for home. Maybe she could transfer back after this semester. Then she could just live at home again. Where she felt safe.
“Claire?”
She took a quick breath, dragging herself back to the conversation. She scrambled around in her mind, trying to remember what Kailey had asked.
“Um, not much,” she said. “I have a new person to tutor.”
“Anybody good?”
“He’s on the football team.” When Kailey went quiet, Claire bit her lip. She wished she hadn’t said anything, but she was still so rattled.
“Is that okay?” Kailey asked softly.
“Of course it is,” Claire said firmly. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She didn’t give Kailey time to answer before she rushed on, desperate to change a subject that she never should have introduced. “Now, enough about me. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
“Oh...not much.” Kailey’s voice took on the smallest hint of a sing song quality.
Claire slowed down slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Okay, who is she?”
Kailey cleared her throat. “Nobody. I mean, just a girl. We aren’t serious or anything.”
“Whatever. Spill it! Where’d you meet? And what’s her name?”
“Brianna. And she works at the yogurt place. She’s so pretty, Claire.”
“Does this mean I can get free yogurt next time I come home?”
Kailey laughed. “Maybe. I’ll see how much influence I have. And maybe you can meet her when you come home for break. You are still planning on doing that, right?”
“Um...” Claire hadn’t been, actually. It was easy enough to make her parents and sister believe that she was doing okay as long as they communicated through calls, texts, and emails, but if they saw her, they’d know within seconds that something was wrong. Despite the idea she’d had of transferring home, she didn’t want to go back until she knew what she was going to do. And she didn’t want to raise questions or worries.
“Because I’m super excited to see my big sister again,” Kailey said when Claire didn’t speak again.
Claire’s shoulders slumped, but she forced her tone to be cheerful. “I’m excited to see you again too, kiddo.”
As they said their goodbyes, Claire pushed the key into the lock of the small townhouse she shared with three other girls. Girls who used to like her. Thank God it was empty now.