‘The write-up’s due in two days. I’ll work on a draft just in case.’
I waited for a few minutes to see if I’d hear back from him. Nothing. Like that was surprising anymore. A little while later, I texted Shawn.
‘Heard about you and Miranda. That’s awesome!
Sure, it was bait to see if he would text back so that we could actually start talking again, but he didn’t bite. I never heard back from either of them. Slade was partying, probably with those skank chicks from earlier. He was probably sleeping with one or both of them at this very moment.
Stretching out on the bed, I closed my eyes. I didn’t prepare for all of these emotions when the semester started. Back then, I wanted nothing to do with Slade, and Shawn was my rock. Now, I had nothing. I let Slade in and I lost Shawn. It was time to let him go and look forward to the rest of my Clark-brother-free life.
25
Cassidy
It was Friday morning and I still hadn’t heard back from Slade. I thought of texting him a couple of times yesterday to ask if he planned on doing anything about the write-up for the project, but left him alone and got the work done myself.
He hadn’t shown up for the one-hour morning time slot Dr. Taylor had set aside for students to hand in their papers. We had until that afternoon to turn in our projects, and the prof was adamant that he would not accept projects after his office hours ended at four that afternoon. I had everything ready to go, and had added Slade’s name to it, only because…well, I had no good reason to do it, but did it anyway.
On the way out of my dorm at lunch, I bumped into Evan with his usual entourage of frat boys.
“How’s it going, Cassidy? I guess I can’t call you the Ice Princess anymore.”
“Real funny. What the hell do you want?”
“Just to see if you’ve changed your mind about giving me a test run.”
“In your dreams, cowboy.” I grumbled under my breath that once this project was over I’d never have to deal with Slade or Evan again. I think he heard me.
“No one told you, huh? You can’t rely on Slade when it comes to schoolwork.”
“What a surprise.”
“Maybe. But since he won the bet, he might focus on making sure he doesn’t fail out of any course this semester. Maybe you’ll hear from him.”
“What bet?”
“The bet. You didn’t know about it, did you?” He stepped closer to me and leaned in like he was about to whisper some big secret. “We all had a little wager about tapping that sweet ass of yours before Christmas…but don’t quote me on that.”
Coming from Evan, and with all this attitude, it had to be true. I shook my head and kept walking.
“So, how about you let me get next in line?”
“Get a life, Evan.” Now was not the time for being nice.
He kept walking beside me. “Come on. He got you all primed for me. I want a taste of that sweet little cheerleading ass.”
“Fuck off.”
“Anything I can do to help. Good luck finding your boy.”
He finally wandered off with his boys and I got over to the business cafeteria for a coffee before handing in the project write-up. I don’t know why Evan’s news didn’t bother me.
Oh wait.
I knew why.
It was Slade we were talking about.
He couldn’t do anything more to me now that he had stripped Shawn away and left me stranded with this project. Sure, he fucked me to win a bet. That was something I wouldn’t have put past him before this semester started. That was the sad part. For one semester, I let him in and he did what he could to act like someone he was not. It was pretty entertaining. I got some wicked good sex out of it, and now I was getting the wakeup call, long before he really fucked me up the ass and screwed up my life.
Maybe I needed to thank him for that.
And part of me had quietly been hoping for it. The sadness and loneliness I saw in my sister’s eyes on Thanksgiving and all the holidays after she married her NFL-playing white knight made me sure that sticking with Slade would put me on the same road, or worse, like my parents, stuck in the same town for decades with no hope of leaving. I could see him getting drafted for a team like the New Orleans Saints, and as much as I loved to visit New Orleans, I wanted to get out of Louisiana. I didn’t want to get stuck somewhere I didn’t want to be.
I took a sip of my coffee and opened the folder that contained the project paper. Cassidy Greyson and Slade Clark were the names on the title page. He’d contributed enough to it that I wouldn’t take his name off. To be fair, he had prepared the initial draft of the business plan and had shown up to knock the pitch out of the park and potentially get me my first shot at a real job after I graduated. It reminded me that I still had our investor’s business card with his phone number on it. It would have been an easy way to get out of Louisiana and into a big city for work.
New York!
Talk about a change of pace. The culture shock alone would do me good. As I thought about it, a smile spread across my face. Slade did me a big favor and I should have been thanking him for not letting me get too carried away. I was free. As soon as I graduated, I could do anything and go anywhere, just as I had planned on doing.
I closed the folder and finished my coffee. It was time to go turn in the project, marking the end of one chapter and the start of the next.
26
Slade
I felt bad for missing the morning time slot to hand in the project, but I felt damn good about getting this project write-up finished, just like I’d told Cassidy. A lot had suffered because of this restaurant gig, but I walked into the business school about an hour before the cut-off time, and with a damn good piece of work as a final write-up in my hand.
Cassidy was sitting at one of the tables as I walked through the cafeteria, nursing a coffee as usual. I hadn’t done a good job of keeping her in the loop, or returning calls or texts from her. With all of my other commitments, I had to keep tight control over my time to get this work done and keep up with everything else. Cassidy of all people needed to understand that. I saw the angry yet aloof expression on her face and decided I had a lot of making up to do after the SECs were over.
I was still spooked about the way my chest would clench up when I was with her, and this gut sense that I had to have her. I couldn’t fight it, though, so I figured maybe this was the real deal. I cared about her, and she’d been so patient with me. It was time to step up and let her know what was on my mind.
Walking up to the table where she sat, I proudly handed her my write-up.
She looked at the paper then up at me. “What’s this?”
“What do you think it is? It’s the write-up. I did it, just like I promised.”
She flipped through it without reading it. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come through with it.”
“I told you I would.”
“That’s rich.”
“Just read it.” I was pretty sure it was solid.
She looked at me over the paper. “I did the write-up too.”
“What? Why’d you do that for?”
“Because I need to get a decent grade. You never answered my texts and I’m just supposed to believe you’ll show up and have it ready?”
“It’s not my problem that you can’t trust me. Anyway, just read it.”
“We don’t have time now. It has to be handed in before this hour’s up.”
“So start reading. I’m sure you and I looked at this from different angles, so we can hand them both in.”
“You should have had this to me sooner.”
“See that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t have to see you every second to trust that you’re doing what you say you are.”
“That’s low, even for you.”
“And you think you’ve been fair?” She wasn’t happy, but hell, I was tired of her writing me off as some lazy ass jock who didn’t pull my own weight.
She let o
ut a breath and passed me the write-up she had done. “Here’s what I did when I never heard back from you. I’ll read yours while you look at mine.”
“Cassidy—” I started, but she silenced me by holding up a hand.
“I’m reading. You should be doing the same.”
I took a seat and took a look. It wasn’t surprising. Her work was concise, well written, and backed up with data. Just like the pitch, it was detached and factual, demonstrating her analytical style, which again illustrated the differences in our individual approaches to the project. I liked it, but it would be that much better if it included what I had put together.
She looked up from my paper. “This is great. I like how engaging it is. You did a great job summarizing the high points like the benefits and long term gains for the broader shelter community.”
“Just like yours has the concrete analytical stuff. Dr. Taylor wants to see both. He’ll get both with our joint content.”
“Okay. We can turn them both in.”
I nodded. “Put mine at the back so we can close with a little excitement.”
She agreed. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
Cassidy narrowed her eyes at me, but that look had nothing to do with this project. That was the angry lady look, and maybe I deserved it. If I just could have told her what all was going on, she probably would have understood. When I didn’t say anything else, Cassidy closed the folder and stood up.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. Let’s turn this in and be done with it.”
“Excellent.” I stretched an arm over her shoulder and smiled. “So when are we getting together to celebrate completing the project?”
Cassidy looked at my hand on her shoulder, then turned and looked at me. “Actually, we’re done here.”
“What are you talking about?”
She turned to look at me, her books against her chest, her body perfectly straight and rigid. “You’ve got some nerve. You flip the switch whenever you feel like it, then you don’t call me for days, you don’t answer when I call, and you don’t respond to my texts. When you finally do show up, you’ve always got some lame excuse as to why that is. You fuck me, and then you run off, and now I know why. Thank you for finally finishing the write-up. I think your version is going to help our project immensely. I’ve included it. I’m going to turn it all in now. Then, we’re done.”
Yep, this was the crazy lady mode I’d been hearing about.
“Listen, I’ve had a lot of personal things going on,” I told her. “I can’t go into too much detail right now, but I’m sorry, and I can do better if you give me another chance.”
“Right. Pardon me, but you haven’t had anything else going on except for drinking with your buddies and making stupid bets about how long it would take to get me in bed with you. Or was it how many times you could fuck me? I don’t remember.”
Oh crap.
That was it.
She knew about the bet. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass eventually, and it did. Added to the fact that I hadn’t been returning her calls or emails, it painted a pretty damning picture for me.
“That’s right, Slade. I found out this was only about bagging everyone’s favorite Ice Princess. Yeah, I heard about that, too. The funny thing is, I’m not even that upset about it anymore. Your bet just saved me from a life like Caroline’s, something I didn’t want in the first place.” She tilted her head, smiled and turned. “Let’s get this paper to Dr. Taylor so I can get on with that.”
“Cassidy, come on,” I said, following her to the drop box outside the prof’s office. It sounded so pathetic, but she’d just leveled my ass. I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
She found a stapler, bound our papers together, slipped it in the drop box, and left. Watching her walk away from me made me decide not to leave things like this. I never gave up on a damn thing without a fight. Slade Clark didn’t make a habit of losing, and I wasn’t about to start now. I caught up to her outside and tried to stop her.
“Look, Cassidy, just talk to me.” I put my hand gently on her arm.
Big mistake.
She dragged my hand off of her and for a second she looked like she was ready for a physical fight.
“Let go of me, Slade. We both have to be at practice.”
By the tone in her voice, I could tell she wasn’t going to budge. I let her go.
27
Cassidy
At least I still had cheerleading, good old underestimated cheerleading. It had the physical challenge to take me away from all the drama and repetitive routine to temporarily restore order to my life. This was the last practice. The end of football season, and that meant we practiced harder today. The SEC Championship was in one day. I had something to look forward to.
Today we practiced at the indoor facility, rigorously going through each routine for tomorrow. It was exhausting, but exactly what I needed. The coach gave us one break in between practice. I went over to my bag for my second bottle of water when the side doors closest to the practice field opened and I heard my name.
Slade.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Of all the times to be on the floor and not in the middle of a routine. “What do you want?” I asked, opening the water bottle and taking a drink.
“Listen, I don’t have much time, but will you just let me apologize so we can get past this?”
“I’m in the middle of practice. I’ve got shit to do, and like you said, you don’t have time for this,” I explained.
“Just hear me out.”
“Not gonna happen. You crossed the line with that bet.” My voice raised right then, and a few girls started snickering around me. I didn’t mean to make a scene, but I didn’t invite Slade in here either.
“You don’t have to take it this far,” he growled.
“Oh, so you’re embarrassed now, are you? Just be glad I didn’t get on a bullhorn and tell everyone what kinds of jackasses are on this football team.”
“I can’t believe you won’t even give me a minute to explain.” He turned around to walk away.
It hurt to feel I had to be that way with him, but nothing else was getting the point across. Dammit, we were done. I shook my head and went back to the distraction, holding my head up high and pretending that nothing ever happened.
Slade still made a point of trying to catch me after practice. I rushed off with Miranda and left, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to just let me go this easily. A few minutes later I got a text from him.
‘Don’t be surprised to see me at your dorm tonight. We’re not done.’
I made sure to send a reply long before Miranda and I got to the dorm.
‘We’re through. Don’t show up unless you want me to call campus security.’
This was the night before SECs. He couldn’t risk getting into anything right now. The team had worked too hard for him to go screw it up by knocking out some wannabe rent-a-cop tonight. That was where a confrontation would take him, and I was sure he knew it too. Taking a breath, I walked inside with Miranda, climbed the stairs and headed to our room.
‘I’m sorry. Please call me.’
‘Can I come see you?’
‘I still have feelings for you.’
‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.’
‘Hey, Cassidy, it’s Slade. Please give me a call. I’m really sorry about how things went down, and I’d like to make it up to you if you would just give me the chance. Again, I’m sorry. Call me.’
Over a twenty-four hour period, Slade had left me countless voicemail messages and text messages saying essentially the same thing. He was heartbroken and wanted me back. I found it somewhat entertaining that all of a sudden he could call and text me when he hadn’t been able to before.
I stopped checking them after the first couple of hours. It was like old times, back before the semester started, except now he came at me on the phone as well, instead of just in the hallway between classes.
&nb
sp; There was nothing to hold me back here in Baton Rouge after graduation. I could finally get out and see the world. I’d held on to our investor’s business card, and planned that over the Christmas break, I would send along my resume and see if I could parlay that opportunity into something tangible. In a few short months, after walking across the stage to get my degree, I could be stepping off a plane and into a real life career, getting me out of Backwater Parish, Louisiana.
It was all for the best, really, and in no time at all, I would be past it. I’d made a bet with myself that I would be over Slade by Christmas Break. Or else I didn’t know what I’d do. He’d already ruined my fall semester. I couldn’t let him ruin spring, too. The worst part of it all was losing my best friend because I was too blind to see what was happening.
I’d texted Shawn a few more times, but with no reply.
‘Please call me. We need to talk.’
‘I miss you. I miss my best friend.’
‘Shawn, I need you. I need to talk to you. Call me.’
The texts got pretty desperate, but he never messaged or called back. I was happy for him, though. He was talking to Miranda, and she spent a few hours after practice with her face glued to the phone as they messaged each other back and forth like a couple of high school kids. It was cute. I loved the way it made her eyes light up. Still, I did want to borrow my best friend back from Miranda every once in a while, just to vent and to hear how he was doing. I missed him more now that I’d gotten the wake-up call about Slade. Still, he didn’t reply to a single text so it was my time to deal with the repercussions of what I’d cause him.
Miranda got up to get a drink from our minibar fridge. Her thumbs were probably worn out from texting Shawn too. Before she picked up her phone again, she sat at the edge of my bed.
“What happened with Slade?”
“What?” It felt like that question had come out of left field.
Go Deep: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 16