Sweet Southern Secrets (Georgia Peaches Book 1)

by Colbie Kay

  I hate when I fight with either of my sisters, but sometimes it’s inevitable, especially when they start in on me about the way I’ve been acting since that night happened. It’s times like this when our attitudes clash. I might be the nice one and she has the sassiness to her, but when I get mad my temper flares. Cayden tries to be gentle, but I’ve even had it out with her a time or two in the last couple months. Cayden is the toughest of us three, but I’ll stand up against her if it means leaving me the hell alone about that night. Still huffing and puffing, I get to the building for my Astronomy class.

  I get to my Astronomy 101 class and find the same seat I’ve been sitting in for the last month, not too far in the front or back. I adjust my book, notebook, and pen on the table just as Professor Bryant shuts the classroom door as he walks into the room.

  “Good morning!” His voice carries so the rows of students can hear him all the way in the back. Professor Bryant is a very handsome man. I’d say he is around our Momma’s age, so early forties, with a clean-shaven head, but he has that swoon-worthy perfect salt-and-pepper beard that women love. I’m sure he’s had a few girls and a whole lot of women drop at his feet, begging to get a good teaching or a little discipline with his ruler. Based on the way his suits squeeze to his body, you know there are some mighty fine muscles under there, and he has the height to go along with it at over six feet tall. I would put money on it that more than one girl in this class has a crush on the professor.

  Professor Bryant has an intensity to him that’s unexplainable, yet he is one of the best and most laid-back professors I have. Those hazel eyes shine with a passion that I have ever only seen from one other person—and that’s me.

  He takes his usual position, sitting on his desk as class begins. “So on Tuesday, we talked about the different eclipses and what they mean. Today we are going to talk about…”

  I’m trying to stay focused on Professor Bryant, but the little hairs on the back of my neck are standing straight up. I feel his eyes on me, the same eyes that I have felt for the last month. I lift my hand and rub the back of my neck, trying to stay calm. Any male attention sends me on high alert now; it raises my anxiety, and I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. He sits right next to me, so that doesn’t help matters.

  Sucking in air, I take deep breaths, trying to keep control. My palm rubs against my jeans as the sweat starts to form. The hour passes in a blur as I catch the last bit of what Professor Bryant is saying. “You will need to start picking a partner for your final project. I’ll leave it up to you to choose, but do so wisely, because this will count as thirty percent of your final grade. Class dismissed.”

  You have got to be kidding me! I need to pick a partner and haven’t even spoken to one single person in this class. At least I have a little time to decide. Maybe I can talk to Professor Bryant and see who the best fit would be. Shaking my head, I grab my belongings and head for my next class.

  Walking home after class, my mind is all over the place. I need my sisters! They have always been there to help when I start feeling like my world is spinning out of control. When I get the condo door open, both are sitting on the couch, watching a movie. “Hey,” I announce my arrival as I join them in our living room.

  “Hey,” they reply in unison.

  “We were waiting for you. I wanted to say I’m sorry for this morning,” Cydney tells me with hesitation. I know they’re wary around me because they know I’ve changed. It makes me feel terrible that they feel like they have to watch what they say or walk on eggshells because they don’t know how I will react anymore.

  “I’m sorry too. I know you guys are just trying to help, but I promise in time I will go back to the old me. Right now I just need you to be there and let me go at my own pace.”

  “We can do that,” Cayden says as she stands, holding her arms open. Cydney and I come in for a group hug while laughing. The three of us take our places on the couch, continue with the movie, and pig out on junk food for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter 2

  I take my position behind home plate, my gloved hand in front of me as I wait for the ball to come. My fingers form the plays, letting our pitcher, Mav, know what pitch to throw next. Baseball is what I live for; it’s been my passion since I started walking. There’s not a time I remember that I didn’t have a glove or ball in my hand growing up. Now that I’m in college, it’s no secret that I am one of the best players on our baseball team. But my roommates slash best friends, Mav and Zac, are right up there with me.

  Early morning practice and late-night drinking do not mix well, but I make it through all the plays, a little batting, and our daily workout and weight training. Good thing I popped some painkillers before I left the apartment.

  “Mitchell! In here now!” Coach Rivers shouts across the locker room.

  “Yes, sir!” I respond as I tie the lace on my black chucks, slam shut my locker door, and head towards his office. I know this has to do with me failing Astronomy 101—Coach Rivers is not happy with me for it. But I just want to play ball. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  “Shut the door behind you and have a seat,” Coach tells me, his eyes stuck on some papers.

  I do just as he said, then wring my hands together while I wait for him to talk. “Dex, you’re one of my best players, and that’s why we sought after you three years ago and offered the full ride scholarship. You were told you had to keep a C-plus average and right now that’s not happening. If you can’t bring your grade up, I’ll have to bench you—and the scholarship will be taken away.” Coach slides a paper in front of me, the big fat F circled at the top.

  Sitting up a little straighter in the chair, I try telling him, “You can’t do that! Baseball is everything to me.”

  “I know that, and I don’t want to take that away from you, but your grade needs to drastically go up. Now, you have a couple of options: one, you can drop the class and get into another one where you actually know something, or two, you can get a tutor. Why did you pick the class?”

  “I picked it because everything else was full, so dropping isn’t an option.” Standing up, I add, “Please don’t take ball away.” When I get to the door, I open it as Coach calls my name again.

  “I’ll do what I can, but you need to find a tutor and quickly.”

  After talking with Coach, I now know how serious my situation is. If I don’t get help, I will no longer be able to play on the team, and that is one thing that can’t happen. Honestly I don’t give a shit about the classes or the scholarship so I have kind of fucked them off. I was here for one reason and one reason only: baseball. Now that they’re threatening to take that away, I guess I need to get my ass in gear and do what needs to be done.

  “Dex! Dex!” Maverick brings me out of my thoughts. “Snap out of it, man! Are you alright?” he asks while we sit on the couch in the apartment we share with Zac, watching ESPN.

  “Coach talked to me today,” I answer, keeping my head down and tearing at the label on the beer bottle I’m holding but haven’t taken one sip of.

  “Yeah, I heard him call you into his office. What’s going on?” I feel Mav’s concerned eyes watching me.

  “I’m failing Astronomy 101, and if I don’t get my grade up they’re going to bench me and take my scholarship.” Turning my head, I make eye contact with one of my best friends.

  Mav is that smartass ball player, in every sense of the word. He has dark black hair, tan skin, and the scruff that women like; then, when you add in his height of six-foot-one and tattoos, he has become the golden boy that all the ladies want. It’s like the more he’s an asshole the more they want him. Playing the position of pitcher, he has it going on, and everybody wants a piece of him.

  “Fuck!” Mav blows out a deep breath then continues, “So you find someone that can tutor you.” He shrugs his shoulder like it’s that simple. “Do
you know anyone in that class that’s getting a good grade?”

  I think about the auburn-haired beauty that sits next to me. “Yeah, I might know of one person.” I don’t know if that’s going to go over well; she isn’t exactly social.

  I’ve sat next to this girl for weeks, sneaking peeks at all of her A+ grades, and I don’t know how the hell she does it. Like I told Coach, I only took the class because everything else was full. I get bored with all the talk about planets, eclipses, and clusters of stars. I don’t see the appeal at a bunch of dots in the dark, but I need to ace this class or lose everything that is important to me. If I get benched, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

  I can’t go back home as a failure. My father would have my ass working for him on the family ranch. He always had hopes that when he was ready to retire I would take over, but I had other dreams. To say he was pissed when I took my full scholarship and ran to the University of Georgia is an understatement. I haven’t spoken to my father in the three years that have passed since the day I left home; it’s a sad situation that he can’t be happy for me or be supportive, but he is a stubborn man. My mom calls about once a month to check on me and see how things are going, but she has to call when he’s not around. She doesn’t want to be in the middle of it, and I understand—my mom’s the one that has to live with the stubborn ol’ man. Maybe one day we can patch things up, but it’s not likely as long as I’m here. It would make his day to see me fail.

  Maybe the girl would tutor me? She is the only thing to keep me entertained in that class, and I’ve heard Professor Bryant call her Callie. I’ve never talked to her; I sit and watch her like a creeper, but I’ve never said so much as a hello. I promise I’m really not a creepy shit-bag, but there is something intriguing about her.

  Callie sits in that class, so enamored with every word Professor speaks, while I hear nothing because I’m enraptured by her. The way she has her long auburn hair in a messy bun on the top of her head... I’ve only caught a glimpse of her face a couple of times. Her skin looks soft and smooth, but has little color. She looks like someone that stays indoors, rather than enjoying the Georgia sunlight. Her eyes seem to be a dark shade of green, almost like jade. Callie can’t be more than five-foot-two because I am a whole head taller than her when we are seated in class. She always wears the same types of clothes: a baggy shirt and jeans that are two sizes too big; I imagine she has to wear a belt to hold them up. It’s like she doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and that’s a big turn-on. Not like some of these thirsty females looking to get something out of you.

  Callie’s clothes do her no justice, and it’s like she is hiding from the world. She can hide all she wants, but if she were mine, I’d keep her safe from anything she’s scared of. The baggy clothes, messy hair, and no makeup do not detract from her beauty, not by an ounce.

  “Hey! Wanna go to The Dugout tonight?” Zac’s voice booms as he comes into the apartment, taking me away from my thoughts. Zac is one of the best guys I know; he’s always laid-back and trying to have a good time. He has the ladies eating out of the palm of his hand by being the funny guy and making them laugh. He has his sandy blonde hair in a buzz cut and hazel eyes that, when he looks at a woman, she comes running—he doesn’t even need to say a word, and she’ll go wherever he wants her to. He’s the biggest of the three of us, and built like a fucking brick house standing at six-foot-three. The dude is a machine and plays shortstop for us. Most dedicated player I know.

  “Yeah, I’ll go. Dex?” Mav questions as he gets up off the couch.

  “Nah, I’m gonna pass for tonight.”

  As my roommates head out for the night, I decide I better get a good night’s sleep since today about killed me.

  Chapter 3

  The week passed by in a blur with studying for some upcoming tests, writing a paper for English, and trying to find a part-time job. Scholarship money and what Momma helps with tides us over, but it would be nice to have a little extra income. So... I went searching for jobs close to or on campus and there were a few. The one I’m hoping to get is at the on-campus café. They said they would call, but it’s been a few days, so I’m anxiously waiting for my phone to ring. I’m not thrilled about being out of the condo more, but I need to do my part in helping out.

  It’s Thursday morning and here I am again, sitting in my usual seat, waiting for Professor Bryant to start Astronomy 101. That same guy is sitting next to me, as always, and staring once again. I don’t look at him, but it’s starting to get distracting and really uncomfortable. I know nothing about him; not his name, what he looks like, nothing. The only reason I know he is a guy is because I glanced up on the first day and saw he was wearing loose-fitting men’s jeans and an American Fighter t-shirt that hugged his muscles. I quickly dropped my head back down, so I didn’t even make it to his face.

  Taking a deep breath, I channel my inner Cydney sass and turn towards the distractor. “Can I help you?” I come face-to-shoulder with him, so I put my best Cayden bitchface on, with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, then raise my head to meet his eyes. Oh my heavens—he’s gorgeous!

  My head comes to the top of his shoulders, so he has to be at least six-foot-two. He’s wearing a grey beater that makes his olive toned skin appear even tanner, and the black baseball cap he has on is turned backwards in that sexy way guys wear them. I see short dark brown hair peeking out from underneath the cap, hair that matches those chocolate brown eyes, and his defined jaw leads to a rounded chin that is covered by his dark goatee. Ah, but I see a labret piercing that looks hot on him. Oh my, those lips…those plump, kissable lips that are full and half-grinning at me. Probably because he knows I’m checking him out and my mouth might be watering just a little. Nope, that’s a lie—it’s watering a lot!

  Back to those chocolate brown eyes that now have my face heating up because they just so happen to be checking me out in much the same way mine were. Moving along to his broad shoulders that lead to two very muscular arms that are covered in tattoos, the man is pure sin in a very sexy way, and he looks like the total package of perfection. Too bad he scares the bajesus outta me. He would have been my type before; the sexy southern boy with the backwards cap, muscles, tattoos, and piercings. Those were my turn-ons.

  He shakes his head and drops it quickly, like he can’t believe what he just saw, while answering my question at the same time. I get one last lingering glance before turning back to listen to Professor Bryant.

  When class is dismissed, I grab my belongings, head down the stairs, and place my written report on Professor Bryant’s desk. It wasn’t due for two more weeks, but I had time, so why not get it done early if I could. I feel a hand on my arm and when I turn around, there he stands. Out of reflex, I pull my arm away and scowl at him.

  “Hey! I’m Dex. I sit next to you.” He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand while giving me a grin. He’s nervous. Well so am I, buddy.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Right.” Dex chuckles a little before continuing, “You’re Callie, right?” How would he know my name?

  I ask just that. “How do you know my name?” My alertness is rising by the second.

  “I’ve heard Professor Bryant say your name when he talks to you.” Now it’s my turn to say, “Right.” Damn it, even that chuckle was sexy, and so is his gruff voice.

  “What can I do for you?” I just want to get out of here. I want to get to my room on the top floor of the building we live in, where I feel safe. I haven’t talked to a man—besides the professors that I have—since that night. I peek around his shoulder to see Professor Bryant sitting at his desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping, but I can see that little sneaky ass smirk of his. Turning my attention back to Dex, I lift my green eyes to meet his chocolate ones and wait for his response.

  “I know you get really good grades in this class and I need some help. I’m
failing this class; my scholarship will be taken away and my baseball-playing days are numbered if I can’t get my grade back up.” He’s rambling and while it’s kind of cute, I’m not feeling any better; worse actually. I know where this is going and the sour taste of bile rises in my throat. He goes on, “I was wondering if you would be willing to tutor me and help me out?” For a second, I stare at Dex like I’ve seen a ghost. I’m sure I’m as white as one.

  “No!” I practically scream. I leave him standing there, stunned, as I get in the hallway. My breathing becomes erratic and I start bumping into other students. I hear the “hey” and “watch where you’re going” from numerous people as I rush to get out of this building that suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

  The last thing I hear is, “Callie, wait!” I make it to the doors and shoot through them like a rocket. In a full-speed run, I make it to our building in less than a minute. I go through all the security, make it to our condo and into my room, flying onto the bed. I grab my pillow, holding it close to my chest as the tears fall and the flashback comes.

  “Hi! Are you Callie?”

  I stand from my chair in the library. “Yes! Are you Roger?”

  “I am! It’s so nice to meet you, and thank you for taking me on. I just can’t get this calculus stuff to make sense.” Roger takes a seat across from me, and I sit back down.

  “Oh, it’s no problem, I’m happy to help.”

  As the weeks went by, Roger grew increasingly flirtier, touchier, and creepier. I stopped it every time; I never fed into it or led him on.

  Sometime during the onslaught of memories, Cydney came in and lay beside me, held me, and now is shushing me as I cry. Once again, her motherly nature comes out to take care of me when I need her, just like Momma would have if she was here. As my breathing starts to even out, she asks, “Callie, how are you feeling?” A sister’s concern is always appreciated. “I swear, if we could go back to that night… Things would be so different.”