It might be time to reassess my tactics.
Gathering up her stuff, Natalie leaves the lecture hall without a backward glance. Guess nothing has changed in that regard.
With my backpack thrown over my shoulder, I head to the front of the room. Dr. Miller has been my advisor since I first stepped foot on campus. She has a laid-back demeanor, and the students love her.
“What’s up, Dr. M?”
Her lips curve into a smile. “Hello, Brody. I wanted to check in with you and see how everything is going.” Glasses sinking low on her nose, she shuffles around a few papers at the lectern.
“Everything’s good.” Could it be better? Hell yeah. But that’s neither here nor there.
Her green eyes meet mine as she tucks a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear. “Did your father mention that we talked last week?”
“Yup.” He sure did.
She nods, looking relieved. “Good. I don’t want you to feel like I’m going behind your back when I discuss your grades with your father.”
I shrug and state the truth. “He’s been overly involved the whole time I’ve been here. Why would that change now?”
The edges of her lips curl with amusement. “That is certainly true. And while I understand his rationale, I want to make sure you’re aware of what was discussed.”
“I appreciate that.”
Most people are intimidated by my father. Dr. Miller seems oddly unfazed by him.
“I looked over your test from last week more closely to see what kind of errors you were making and noticed that you had a hard time with some of the key concepts. I think it’s because they’re more abstract in nature. You do well with more concrete ideas. Your last test was a seventy-five percent.” Her tone gentles. “The subject matter will continue to become more challenging in nature. You’re hovering at a mid-level C. I’m concerned that your test scores will take a hit. You don’t have much in the way of padding to allow for that.”
She pauses and searches my eyes for understanding. The last two weeks of class have been more problematic. I stay on top of all the reading and assignments, but sometimes I don’t absorb the concepts as quickly as I need to. I’m not in over my head yet, but if this class continues to become progressively more difficult at the rate it’s going, then I might be.
“We’re both aware of the standards Whitmore has set for its student athletes. If one of your classes drops below a C, you’ll be forced to sit out until the grade is once again at C level.”
“That won’t happen,” I cut in swiftly, mostly because I can’t fathom the possibility. This is my last year at Whitmore. My last season playing with these guys. It’s paramount that we bring home a National Championship. I’m also team captain. It would be a huge embarrassment to sit out for any period of time. My heart hitches at the thought.
Dr. Miller reaches out and squeezes my shoulder for a fleeting moment. “I know you’re working hard, Brody. I can’t say that about all the student athletes here at Whitmore. You and I are meeting as much as we can, but I believe it might be time to get a tutor. I took the liberty of checking with your other professors. You’re borderline in your statistics class as well. I think at this point, it would be a proactive step to take.” Opening a manila folder, she grabs the top sheet from her pile of notes and presses it into my hand. “These are a few names of tutors I think you would work well with. You’ll need to email each one to check their availability and see if it works with your schedule.”
A pit settles in my gut as I stare at the paper in my hand. “These are student tutors?”
“Graduate students, yes. I think it would be beneficial to work with someone twice a week. You and I will continue to meet during office hours, of course, but I think this would help.”
I’m not opposed to working with a tutor, but I know how people love to gossip around here. Most of the time, there’s nothing I can do about that, but I’ve always tried to keep my academic struggles under wraps.
So far, I’ve done my best to hold it together, but these upper-level courses are killing me. If I hadn’t made a promise to my mom that I would finish college before entering the NHL, I would have gone straight to Milwaukee after juniors. But this is my last year. I’m in the homestretch now. I just have to work a little harder and I’ll have my degree when I skate onto the ice with the Mavericks.
Dr. Miller is right. I need help. Getting benched isn’t an option. An idea forms in my head. I stuff the list of tutors into the pocket of my khakis, hoping I won’t have to contact them.
“Thanks, Dr. M. I’ll look into it.”
“There’s no shame in asking for help, Brody,” she reminds me. “Lots of students do.”
I nod. It has nothing to do with me being embarrassed to ask for assistance. It’s more about me wanting to control who knows about my issues.
Dr. Miller seems satisfied with my answer. “My plan is to check in with your other professors on a weekly basis. Then, when we meet on Wednesdays, we can go over your grade reports. We’re going to get through this together, okay, Brody?”
Her words have everything within me loosening. Dr. Miller will continue working with me and if I can get Natalie on board, I’ll be set. I’m just not sure how to convince her. Most days, that girl can barely stand to be in the same room with me.
I say goodbye to Dr. Miller and jog through the corridor, pushing out the main doors to leave the building. I hope Natalie didn’t take off on me. I wouldn’t put it past her. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the bright sunlight. There are a ton of students standing around shooting the shit.
Something instantly settles in me when my gaze lands on Natalie. Because all of my attention is focused on the long-legged brunette, it takes a moment to realize that she isn’t alone.
She’s standing with Kimmie.
Well, hell…
This is so not what I need right now.
Especially since Kimmie’s arms are flailing wildly around her. Even though I’m a good ten yards from them, I can hear Kimmie’s voice escalating in volume. She looks dangerously close to getting up in Natalie’s face. I rush down the stairs. Every long stride propels me closer to them. A small crowd of bystanders has gathered around the girls.
As soon as I reach them, I slide an arm around Natalie and tuck her close to my body. Kimmie’s eyes widen as hurt flashes through them. I’m not sure what Kimmie’s deal is. There’s nothing between us. We’re friends. That’s it.
We’ve never even hooked up.
I’m not saying that she hasn’t come on to me, I’m just saying it’s never happened between us.
It only takes one interaction with Kimmie to realize that she’s the type of chick who has the ability to go stalker-girl on you. All the signs are there, flashing like the lights on the Vegas strip. I steer clear of women who tell you that they’re cool with hooking up for a few hours but then end up sending you scathing text messages for months afterward and bashing you to every person they come into contact with.
Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total dickhead. I’m always up-front about my intentions. If someone’s not into what I propose, so be it. There are plenty of others who are cool with a casual situation.
Striving for nonchalance, I say, “Hey, Kimmie. What’s up?”
I mentally groan when her eyes fill with tears. God, I hate when girls cry. Like any other man, it makes me feel helpless.
And, more often than not, ultimately responsible.
“So, it’s true then?” she whispers huskily. “You two are going out?”
Natalie opens her mouth, and I quickly cut her off because I have the feeling she’s about to blow us out of the water. And that, I just can’t have. It doesn’t surprise me that Natalie is having second thoughts about the nature of our relationship.
I get that.
I even expected it.
But here’s the deal…Natalie has been on my radar for three years. Now that I’ve maneuvered her into this position, the la
st thing I’m going to do is let her slip through my fingers.
Plus, I need a tutor, and she fits the bill perfectly.
I just have to convince her that she needs me as much as I need her.
It shouldn’t be all that difficult, right?
I’m a good-looking dude. I have a fairly decent personality. Most girls would chew off their own arms to date me. Even fake-date me. That being said, Natalie isn’t most girls. She’s the only one who would probably chew off her own arm to get away from me.
Go figure.
But first things first. I need to put the kibosh on the drama Kimmie is hell-bent on causing.
“Yep. Davies and I are together, all right.” When Natalie tries to interrupt again, I squeeze her to me and smack a quick kiss on her lips. Once she’s been effectively silenced, I pull back because I wouldn’t put it past her to try biting me. She glares. “We finally decided to make it official. Right, babe?”
That’s more of a rhetorical question. I don’t expect an answer. In fact, I’d prefer not to have one. Natalie just needs to stand there and simmer quietly while I get rid of Kimmie.
“But-but,” Kimmie sputters as if she doesn’t know what to say. Which is a first. “You don’t even like her!”
Natalie raises her brows as a smug expression settles on her face.
I shake my head. “Nah. It was never like that.”
Kimmie sucks her pouty lower lip between her teeth as her confused gaze bounces between us. Her eyes have welled again with unshed tears. “I thought you and I…” Her voice breaks. “I thought we had something special.”
Why would she think that?
Sure, I see her around at parties. But the only time we talk is during class. The girl yaps my ear off, making it difficult for me to concentrate. I’ve tried changing seats, but she follows me around like a lost puppy.
I glance at the growing crowd.
Don’t these people have someplace to be?
The last thing I want to do is embarrass Kimmie. Whatever happens here will spread around campus in the blink of an eye.
“I’m sorry, Kimmie,” I say gently. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
“I don’t understand…I’ve never even heard of you going out with a girl before.” She flicks her eyes at Natalie. “What makes her so special?”
Natalie’s body becomes whipcord tight, but she doesn’t say a word. I think she’s waiting to see how I wiggle out of this predicament.
I shrug and keep Natalie firmly anchored to my side in case she gets any ideas. “She’s smart and beautiful. Not to mention that sparkling personality of hers. Why wouldn’t I want to get to know her better? I’ve had my eye on Davies since freshman year. And now that she’s agreed to give me a shot, I’m taking it.”
Kimmie’s brows slide together. “Really?”
Her shocked tone annoys me. It’s like I just told her that I enjoy eating my own feces. “Yeah, really. I like Natalie. She’s a cool chick.”
“Huh.” My explanation seems to leave her flummoxed.
It’s time to wrap this up. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.
Again, Kimmie’s eyes shift between Natalie and me. I sense she wants to continue arguing. Like she’s going to talk me out of liking this girl. That isn’t going to happen. After a few uncomfortable moments, Kimmie’s shoulders sag, and she shrugs. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you later, Brody.”
“Yup.” Relief zips through me that I’ve managed to detonate this bomb without blowing all three of us to oblivion.
With one last soulful look aimed in my direction, Kimmie stalks away. Realizing that a catfight is not about to break out, the gathered crowd disperses leaving Natalie and me alone.
“You can let go of me now,” she growls.
I chuckle. “Maybe I don’t want to let go of you.” I realize there’s more than a kernel of truth to that statement. I like the feel of her tucked against me. She fits perfectly. Although it’s highly doubtful she thinks the same thing.
She punctuates my thoughts with a quick jab to the gut. I grunt and release my hold.
“You’re one violent chick, Davies.” I hate to admit it, but that quality is attractive as hell. She’s attractive as hell. It makes me wonder if there’s anything she could do to turn me off.
Looking relieved, Natalie steps out of my embrace. “You have no idea how violent I can be, McKinnon. But I have the distinct feeling you’re going to find out soon enough.”
I smile and rub my belly. “See? It’s only been two days, and already you know me so well. That’s why this is a match made in heaven.”
She sucks in a breath and slowly releases it. “Right. About that. I was hoping we could talk about this whole…situation.”
“Sure.” Whatever she wants to discuss isn’t going to be good. I can tell by the stiff set of her lips.
“Want to grab a coffee at Java House?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Absolutely not!”
I slant a questioning look her way, but she remains silent. “Fine, where do you want to go? I’ve got a few hours between classes. Want to head back to my place?”
That suggestion leaves her glaring.
“I didn’t mean for that.” I chuckle. Unable to help myself, I tease, “Although I’m not opposed to the idea if you’re interested.”
“We are not going back to your place,” she says firmly.
“Fine. Tell me where you want to go.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me along. “Off campus. I need to get out of here. Now. Before anymore weirdness can happen.”
I have no idea what that means.
“All right. I’ve got my truck. Why don’t we head over to Maples on Main? We can grab an early lunch.” People check us out as we move through the crowd. I’m used to the attention, but I get the feeling that Natalie is uncomfortable with it.
“Fine.”
Twenty minutes later, we slide into a booth across from each other. Bev, one of the waitresses who normally waits on me, stops by the table with menus and two glasses of water.
“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a grin. “Want me to set you up with the usual?”
Natalie cocks a dark brow at me.
This is my home away from home. I wink at Bev. “They take good care of me here.”
Bev chuckles. She’s a grandmotherly type of woman who I’ve gotten to know over the years. “You got that right. He and a few guys from the team stop in after practice. A hungrier bunch, I’ve never seen.”
“That’s because you got the best meatloaf in town.”
“Lou makes it fresh every day with you in mind.”
I hand her the menu. “I wasn’t planning on the meatloaf for lunch, but you talked me into it.”
A hearty laugh tumbles from her lips. “You got it.” She turns expectantly to Natalie. “What about you, hon? What’ll you have?”
Natalie skims the menu and says, “Just a plate of fries, please.”
“Easy enough.” She writes our orders down on a small pad of paper and sticks the pencil behind her ear. “Should be up in ten.”
“Can we get two Cokes, please?” I glance at Natalie and ask, “Or did you want Diet?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “The real McCoy is fine.”
Now here’s a girl after my own heart.
“Coming right up,” Bev says and walks away.
As I sit back against the bench, my gaze is drawn to Natalie. But that’s nothing new. I’ve felt the pull for years. Now that it’s the two of us, I’m not sure what to say or how to start this conversation. Somehow, I need to convince her that this fake relationship is a beneficial arrangement for both of us. Sure, I know exactly how it benefits me. What I need to figure out is what I bring to the table.
“I want to apologize for what happened with Kimmie. I had no idea she would go off the rails like that.” Although deep down, I suspected as much.
“It’s fine.” Natalie shakes her h
ead and amends her statement. “Weird, but fine.” Her eyes dart around the half-empty restaurant before settling on mine again.
“Look, Brody—” she begins.
“Uh-oh, I know it’s serious when you opt for my first name.”
Her lips lift a fraction. My eyes drop briefly to them as the memory of what her mouth felt like when mine slid over it flashes through my head. The urge to kiss her again pounds through me.
Can’t say I see that happening anytime soon. If Natalie has her way, it’ll never happen again.
“I appreciate what you did for me Saturday night with Reed,” she begins again. “I really do. You didn’t have to involve yourself.” Her gaze slides over the bruised skin around my eye. “But I don’t think it’s necessary for us to pretend we’re involved. Honestly, I think that will only stir the pot. All the gossip that’s circulating will eventually blow over.” She shrugs. “You know what it’s like around here.”
Of course, I do. But still…
I’m not ready for this to be over. Not by a long shot.
Stalling for time, I lift my glass to my lips and take a big gulp of water. My eyes never release hers. Natalie threads and rethreads her fingers as if she’s nervous. Which is strange. She’s not the fidgety kind. Certainly not around me. Setting the glass down, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the Formica table.
“I think we should stick it out for a few weeks,” I say.
Looking adamant, she shakes her head. “Why would we bother doing that?’
“Because it’s advantageous for both of us.”
She arches a brow. “How so? I’ve already told you that I don’t care if people talk.”
“Well,” I drawl, trying to come up with a few reasons on the fly why it would be in her best interest to date me. I really should have given this more thought, but I wasn’t expecting her to try ditching me so quickly. In hindsight, I should have. “For one,” I improvise, “everyone on campus already thinks we’re dating.”
“It’ll blow over,” she repeats. “It has to.”
I raise a dubious brow. “Will it?” Before she can respond, I add, “Because I’m not exactly known for my relationships. And maybe you noticed, but that’s all anyone could talk about since I announced it Saturday night.”
Hate to Love You Page 8