by Teagan Kade
She’s got her arms crossed now. “I’ve been trying to reach you for fucking forever. Do you know how embarrassing it was to show up to Reacher’s black light party alone?”
“I’ve been busy.”
Now she acknowledges Willow. “Are you fucking this… thing?”
Willow, to her credit, remains composed.
“That’s none of your business,” I reply.
“We’re a couple. It is my business.”
I’m halfway to making a scene. “Jesus, Taylor. We. Are. Not. A. Thing. Besides, last time I checked you were the one looking to hook up. Not me.”
A scary calm comes over her. “Fine. Fuck her. Fuck her fucking brains out, but if you want real pussy instead of this fire crotch Frankenstein, you know where to find me.”
“She’s a real charmer,” remarks Willow, watching her storm away.
But I can’t even bring myself to smile. “You have no idea.”
CHAPTER NINE
WILLOW
My momentary transformation in the library changes everything. I feel restored, energized, and sexy. Asher and I are together whenever possible. Coach Harris even showed up to the McMahon Center the other day when Asher failed show for practice. That’s how dedicated Asher has become to the home, to the kids.
To me.
He’s so involved in the day-to-day running of the place now I don’t know what the other ladies would do without him. The kids love him too. They pester me about him when he’s not there. They ask us when we’re going to get married and have babies. I neglect to tell them to have a baby you’d first need to have sex, and we still haven’t done that.
Yes, true to his word, Asher allows us to take it slow. I know he’s dying to sleep with me, but I’m holding off just a little longer. Maybe I’m scared? I don’t know, but what I do know is that what we’ve got right now is a wonderful thing. I don’t want the horizontal hula to mess anything up.
Do I think about Asher and me, doing it? Hell yes. Last night I was so horny that if it wasn’t for Amy snoring the walls down I would have quite happily slipped my hand down my pants and gotten myself off thinking about Asher’s hard cock, his chiseled body over mine, his lips whispering the many ways he’s going to make me come.
But I’m studying hard with end of semester exams beckoning. At times it’s hard to fit Asher into my head along with chemistry elements, and skeletal structures, and biology. Don’t even get me started on biology. Organismal diversity is not as interesting as it sounds.
I watch Asher play and train in my downtime. The Hellcats are looking good for another championship if they keep up their winning streak. As captain, Asher’s expected to lead by example, which he does. His batting average is 0.437—almost unheard of in college ball. When recruiting time comes around, he’s going to be picked up fast, no doubt about it.
And where will that leave you?
I can’t dwell on that right now. The picket fence and pretty white dress will have to wait.
“Last one,” says Asher, watching me from the other side of the study table. “What is the product of water and pentyl ethanoate under acidic conditions?”
Only Asher could make organic chemistry sound sexy.
His foot stops moving against my crotch.
I open my eyes. “Ethanoic acid and pentanol.”
He smiles and resumes his footwork under the table. “Correct.”
He removes it when the door swings wide, a bemused, blonde head poking in. “Oh, sorry,” says the girl. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Asher turns, smiling. “No problem.”
She lights up when she spots him, glancing at me as if to say ‘what’s he doing in here with you?’ “I’m such a fan, by the way. See you at the Quagmire?”
“Sure,” he smiles back.
I’m not even mad. He’s made it quite clear there’s only one girl who matters to him on campus, and it sure ain’t Taylor Vaughn.
The door closes.
My panties are going to need a good wringing out later. I’m surprised I’ve been able to recall any answers at all.
Asher stands and collects his things.
“Where are you going?” I protest. “I was about to—”
“Head to class? You’ve got General Chemistry in five minutes and it takes six to walk across campus.”
I pout. “What about the chemistry we had going on here?”
There’s a knock on the door. It better not be that bimbo again.
“Yeah,” calls Asher.
The door swings open again.
It’s Leon. I haven’t seen him since that day at the Grind House. I tighten.
He walks in. “Well, well. What do we have here? A little study sesh, yeah?”
“Something like that,” muses Asher, about to head out. “What brings you here? I thought you were allergic to the library?”
Leon leans against the wall and smiles back. “A tight little brunette, the history section, three months ago.”
Asher points at him. “You are a fucking animal.”
“Says the Penbrook equivalent of Stiffler. Where have you been, anyways? It’s not the same at the Quagmire without you. That bartender chick was asking about you again, by the way. I told her you were doing some volunteer bullshit and she practically flooded the floor she was so hot for it.”
“Interesting,” replies Asher. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m late for class.”
“Class?” Leon scoffs. “Since when do you give a fuck about class?”
“Bye,” replies Asher, turning to blow me a kiss.
No. No. No. Don’t leave me alone with Leon. But before I can protest Asher’s already out the door.
Leon closes it gently. “Just the two of us, like old times.”
I’m about to stand when Leon comes behind me, his hands falling onto my shoulders.
“It’s been a long time, Amanda. Wouldn’t you say?” His fingers run across my collarbone, working their way up my hairline. He leans down and sniffs. “I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Amanda?” he laughs. “Yes. I suppose it wouldn’t be wise dredging up the past, would it? I mean, given how hard you’ve worked to start over. What do you think Asher would say if he knew we were a thing back in school, if he knew—”
I push my chair back and stand, swatting his hand away and trying to collect my books as quickly as humanly possible.
Leon’s still smirking. “There’s the old Willow. I’ve missed her.”
I point my finger at him. “Don’t you dare say a word about us to Asher.”
He raises his hands. “If you say so.”
I can’t stand the smug look on his face. He knows he’s got me in a corner here, but I refuse to be boxed in. “You weren’t exactly a boy scout back then either, remember? I bet old habits die hard.”
He nods. “Oh, I remember.” He looks down at my chest. “I remember everything.”
The door bursts open and Asher rushes back in. “Forgot my cell.”
He’s swiping it off the table when he sees us standing there. “Everything okay?”
Leon bobs his head slowly, still watching me. “Couldn’t be better. I was just talking to Willow here about the good ol’ days.”
I give him my best ‘don’t do it’ stare.
He exhales in a sharp punctuation of air. “Gotta go. I’ll see you soon, Willow.”
He punches Asher lightly on the shoulder on his way out. “Fuckface.”
The door closes and we’re thankfully alone again.
“What was that all about?” asks Asher.
“Nothing,” I smile. “We should go.”
Asher pulls the door wide. “After you.”
*
As if I wasn’t stressed out enough, now I’ve got Leon, the scheming bastard, to contend with. I barely catch a word of what the professor has to say in class. He calls me down when class finishes. He’s holding a Post-It in his hand. “It says here I’m t
o have you are to report to the Dean’s office.”
I gulp audibly. “The Dean?”
He smiles. “Yes. I’m sure it’s nothing sinister.”
I clutch my books. “Right.”
All kinds of crazy scenarios run through my head as I make my way to the administration building.
The Dean’s secretary waves me in.
Dean Willis sits at his desk. Beside him stands Karen, smiling. That’s a good sign, right?
Please don’t be about the scholarship. Please don’t be about the scholarship.
Please don’t be about the scholarship.
I stand awkwardly before them. “You asked to see me?”
Karen takes a seat beside me, looking to the Dean. Actually, there’s more to it than a simple glance. The Dean and Karen? I wonder.
The Dean tents his fingers together and puts on a smile. “How are you, Ms. Grant?”
Why is my mouth so dry? “I’m fine, thank you.”
I close my legs together a touch tighter. I’m not so dry there.
The Dean stands and starts to pace. He holds a piece of paper in his hands. “Your professors say you’re a model student, Willow. Looks like you’ve got a very bright future ahead of you.”
Both the Dean and Karen are smiling way too much. I wait for the ‘but.’
“Willow,” starts Karen, and I’m getting a little weirded out by hearing my name so much. “We wanted to thank you, on behalf of the college, for your work with Asher Slade. We know it can’t have been easy taking him on at the center, but, as you know, he is an asset to our sporting pedigree here at Penbrook. Serving his community has done him a world of good.”
This is about Asher? “I’m not sure I understand.”
The Dean sits on the edge of his desk still smiling. He places my record down. “I’ve had it on good authority Asher has been working rather diligently at the home for the last couple of weeks under your guidance. Is that true?”
My chest is tight. “Yes. The children really enjoy having him around, as do the staff. He’s been a big help.”
The Dean looks to Karen again. “Excellent. And it’s not affecting your studies?”
I swallow again and shake my head. “No, sir.”
“That’s just what we like to hear,” he beams. “Now, to the matter at hand.”
Here we go.
“This experiment with Asher has been such a success, no doubt thanks to your hard work, that we’re hoping you could do us one more favor. Of course, we’ll add it all to your record, make sure the relevant bodies know about your hard work.”
I’m still not following. “A favor, sir?”
“One more student,” smiles Karen.
“Another student?” I query, still lost.
Karen and the Dean exchange another look.
Once more the Dean smiles. “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been another… ‘incident’ that requires disciplinary action, but, naturally, we would prefer to deal with it in-house, and given the way this thing with Mr. Slade has panned out, the authorities have been happy to… Well, you know.”
“You want another student to volunteer at the home?”
“Precisely,” says the Dean, tapping his desk for effect. “What do you say?”
“What did they do?”
Another eye exchange. “We can’t discuss details, sorry, suffice to say it was a serious matter, one that requires discretion. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Can you help us?” asks the Dean.
I have a feeling I can’t refuse. I nod again. “Yes, sir, whatever you need.”
“That’s the spirit,” he enthuses. “I have work to attend to, but I’ll have Karen fill you in with the finer details of it all. And again, if you have any issues you’re welcome to contact me directly.”
I do my best to smile back. “I appreciate that.”
I stand still not really comprehending precisely what I to do.
Outside, the door to the Dean’s office closing behind us, I face Karen. “Can I ask which student the Dean was referring to?”
She rolls her eyes. “Another Hellcat, I’m afraid, damn them.”
“A Hellcat?”
“Yes,” she says, scowling. “Mr. Leon Hunter. Do you know him?”
CHAPTER TEN
ASHER
I come out of the showers after training straight into the path of Coach Harris. Something tells me he’s been waiting.
He looks down at my dick, hands on his hips. “Can you cover up that crotch cannon of yours, Slade?”
Someone tosses me a towel. I wrap it around my waist. “Better?”
“I got a call from the Dean today.”
Shit. What now? “Did you?”
Coach’s face changes. He’s smiling—a rarest of Harris’s facial expressions. “He told me you’re fucking acing this community service thing. Says you’re doing the college proud. So good, in fact, that you’re free.”
“Free?” I question.
“Yes, sir. You’re off the hook. It’s back to training as usual, which means double time given the importance of these final games. Whatever you were doing at the home—dishing out candy to the kids, fucking the staff—it worked.”
“I don’t have to volunteer at the home any more. Is that what you’re saying?”
Coach’s shit grin stays. “I am. You’ll report here instead, where you belong.”
“But…” I trail off. What am I supposed to say here? I should be elated, but I’m strangely conflicted.
Coach’s expression darkens. “As for Leon…”
“Leon?” I query, looking around for him. I haven’t even realized he’s missing.
“You didn’t hear? He knocked out some punk freshman at the Quagmire the other night, fucked up the kid’s face real good.”
I haven’t seen Leon in a while. I’ve been too busy with Willow. “Fuck.”
Coach nods. “Yes, ‘fuck’ indeed, but don’t worry. Thanks to you,” he prods me in the chest. “It’s going to be alright.”
I’m confused. “Thanks to me?”
He starts to walk away, continuing to speak. “Yes, Slade. Thanks to you.”
I stand there half-naked wondering what the hell he’s going on about. Whatever it is, it sounds ominous.
Coach turns and starts to pace back. “I almost forgot. I need you to put your best foot forward in this next game.”
“Don’t I always?”
“This one’s special. I have it on good authority a New York scout will be showing up soon—maybe this game, maybe the next. Who knows? We’ll lay out the red carpet, of course, but it’s up to you to ensure you hit it out of the park. You hearing me?”
“Loud and clear, Coach.”
He takes my shoulder. His hand’s like a fucking vice. “That’s the spirit. Before you know it you’ll be a Yankee. Just remember to thank your old Coach Harris in your memoirs, won’t you?”
“How could I forget?”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Get out of here. Have some fun. Come Saturday it’s game on… for all of us.”
*
Willow seems distant when I meet her at the Grind House.
“You okay?” I ask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She holds her mug of coffee with two hands, bringing it to her lips and sipping. She offers me a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine. How about you? How was training?”
I lean back, arm over the chair next to me. “Good. Real good. Coach said the Dean called, told him I don’t have to volunteer at the home any more. I’ll be training double with the championship coming up and all.” I see the disappointment register on her face, as I knew it would. “But don’t worry. I can still come around to the center on weekends and nights, plus we’ll still see each other. I’ll make damn sure of that.”
She’s looking past me, distracted.
“Willow?”
Her eyes, sangria in shade, focus back on mine, the smile returning. “No, that’s gr
eat. I’m going to be busy studying anyhow.”
“But you still want to see me, don’t you?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course, you idiot.” And the Willow I know returns. “You owe me an orgasm…. or ten.”
A girl at the table behind us turns around at the mention of the big O. “You’ll be okay at the home without me?”
“I was doing fine before you showed up, wasn’t I? Besides, I can’t take much credit. The staff are the ones who do the real heavy lifting. We get to go home. They live there.”
I shrug. “I don’t think it would be so bad.”
“You say that now, but what happens when you’ve got kids screaming into the night, waking up on the hour? And not just one kid either.”
“I’m used to staying up.”
She laughs. “Yes, so I’ve heard, though I don’t know if all night benders qualify you for childcare.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Don’t you always?”
She’s smiling in full now, the coffee steaming before her. “You haven’t touched your brownie.”
I pick at the baked good in question. “You mean this four-by-two-inch slab of sugar and flour? It’s just for show.”
She reaches over and takes it off my plate, sliding it into her mouth. “Your loss. Are you on some sort of man diet?” she continues, mouth chewing. Somehow she still manages to look hot with crumbs falling from her lips.
“Coach’s orders.”
Eyes narrowing. “Do you always do what your coach tells you?” she asks, poking the last bit of brownie into her mouth.
“You know me. I always follow orders when it’s time to bat.”
“And what about outside of baseball?”
“Only if you’re giving them. If you asked me to get under this table and make you come using only my tongue, right now, I’d do it.”
She leans back, eyeing me. “Would you now? You’d get into trouble.”
“And get to spend more time with you at the home. Sounds win-win to me.”
She laughs. “Why don’t we go back to your place for a different kind of training?”
I grin wide. “Let me get the bill.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WILLOW
I’m waiting at the home for Leon to show up. He’s already half an hour late.