That is until she broke up with me last week. Rumor around campus is that she’s hooking up with a soccer player. And normally, I don’t give a shit, but there’s only so many times I can deal with her stupid breakups before I lose interest. I can have any girl that I want. I don’t have time for her petty drama.
I don’t need her shit tonight.
“Nothing. I just don’t have time for this.” I try to move past her, but she spreads her arms and legs out wide, blocking the entrance to the locker room. Her blonde ponytails bob side to side, the smell of sweat and pink bubblegum filling my nostrils.
“You know you want me, David. You won’t be able to resist me for long,” she sings and peels off the side of the wall. She leans against the other side of the entrance and watches me go inside.
I hate how she thinks that I’ll just go back to her and all her drama. I don’t have time for the bickering and jealousy that comes with Hannah Thomas. And not to mention all the expectations of her riding my success.
“We’ll see,” I say and flick her off as the door to the locker room closes behind me. The last thing I see is her scrunched up face and her mouth opening into a large O. I don’t get to hear the next part, but I’m sure a string of curse words leave her mouth. Hannah doesn’t react well to getting turned down. She’s used to getting her way.
Thumping, loud music reverberates off the gold and blue walls inside the locker room. Everyone is getting ready for the post game parties. There’s no doubt that there will be a party at each and every fraternity on and off campus. Beating the cross -town rivals always puts everyone in a good mood. That is until the next day hangover hits.
“To David,” Dwayne shouts as I make my way to my locker. The music stops and everyone starts to huddle around me. The team starts to hoot and holler, throwing their hands into the air like a Viking tribe ready to welcome their leader.
I put my hand in the air and everyone reaches out. There isn’t a murmur in the room as everyone huddles closer and closer. “I’m really proud of how everyone played out there. They didn’t stand a fucking chance.”
“Damn straight.” Dwayne laughs. “They ain’t got shit on us.”
There’s a couple laughs around the room before it gets quiet. “If we keep playing like that, there isn’t anyone that can stop us. The All-American title will be ours,” I yell and feel the room shake as everyone shouts in agreement. “One. Two. Three. Hawks for life.” I drop my hand as everyone shouts in unison. Some of my teammates spin towels above their heads while others start popping bottles of beer and champagne, already getting the pre-gaming under way.
The huddle breaks and I see Coach Vaughn leaning against his office door. He looks at the bottles of beer and shakes his head, but he always turns a blind eye to that kind of stuff. As long as it doesn’t affect practice too much, he doesn’t say anything. He knows how hard we worked for tonight’s win.
He digs his hands into his khakis and walks over to me. “Good job David.” His words linger for a moment and I take them in. That means a lot coming from him.
Coach Vaughn used to play for the Pro League. He led his team to more wins than any other quarterback in the game. To say that I look up to him would be an understatement. Several of his old school posters were on my wall when I was growing up. He’s the main reason that I chose to come to this university.
His hand squeezes my shoulder and for some reason, I get a bad feeling in my stomach. “Thanks, Coach.”
He holds his smile a little longer and his hand pulls on my shoulder. “Come into my office, David.” The door shuts behind me before I can understand what’s going on. The flourescent lights flicker on above and Coach walks over to his desk. “I know that this isn’t the right time for this, but I don’t have much of a choice.” He lowers himself to the last cabinet at the bottom of his desk and opens it, pulling out a thick manila folder.
“Something tells me I’m not going to like this.” I grab a chair from the side and turn it around, resting my arms on the backside of it. Coach Vaughn drops the thick folder in front of me. A couple pieces of paper fly off his desk and I’m left wondering what the hell could be inside of it. “What is this?”
“This,” he presses his index finger into the folder, flattening it a good couple inches, “is your school work.” He shakes his head and pulls out the piece of paper on top. He looks it over and shakes his head. “How can you be doing this badly?” He flicks the paper toward me and it flies through the air like an autumn leaf falling from a tired branch. I barely manage to catch it and I can already feel my nerves taking over.
I turn the paper over and I’m met with a big fat F on the front. It’s a homework assignment that I’d turned in just a week ago. I haven’t seen my grade for it yet, not that it mattered, I always just stuff them at the bottom of my backpack.
“I’m not happy right now, David.” Coach falls back into his tiny chair, which screeches at his weight. “You’re supposed to be the captain. You’re the one who should be setting an example for the rest of the team to follow. You should be,” He stops and grabs another paper from the pile and shakes his head. “You should be doing better than this.” He slaps the piece of paper in front of him as if it were about to attack him.
I’ve been playing football all my life and because of that, I’ve been in a number of gut-wrenching situations. I’ve lost heartbreakingly close games and won others that seemed impossible. And during all those times, my nerves never broke. I was always able to persevere and do what needed to be done.
That’s not how I feel right now.
The disapproving look from Coach Vaughn makes me squirm in my seat. I can feel my stomach turning and I’m on the brink of hurling. I don’t like letting my mentors down. Especially not my idol.
This is a new and unfamiliar feeling for me.
“I can do better.” I grab the folder off his desk before he grabs another assignment from the pile of garbage.
He hands me the paper in his hand and shakes his head. “You don’t have a choice. As of tonight, you are suspended from the team.”
My chair slams into his desk as I get up. “That’s not fair.” The folder drops from my hands and onto the floor, pages and pages of paper flying out as if I were playing 52 pick up. “I won this game for us tonight. I shouldn’t be punished for it.”
“And you’re not being punished for that. Normally, I would be out there celebrating with all of you, but this isn’t the time.” Coach Vaughn makes his way around the table and starts to pick the pages off the ground. “And this is out of my hands. It’s coming down from Ms. Dunn. I managed to convince her to let you attend practice and watch from the sidelines.”
“Thanks,” I mutter under my breath as I help. I can feel the anger building inside of me.
This shit isn’t fair. I need to be out there on the field. This is my last year and last chance to clinch a division title. If I don’t play then I won’t get scouted for the Pros. My life is riding on this season.
“I fought for you, but there’s just too much in that folder. You need to get yourself together and fix it. Ms. Dunn has set you up with her best tutor.” Coach Vaughn hands me the folder and I let myself grow familiar with its weight. It feels like I’m holding my future in my hands, and one wrong step could undo everything that I’ve worked for.
Coach Vaughn pats me on the shoulder. It’s different from before, almost understanding of my situation. “You know how important it is to have a backup plan. It doesn’t hurt to get an education while you’re here on a full ride.” He squeezes my shoulder and I look up into those beady eyes of his. I manage to give him a smile as he shows me out of his office. “We’re counting on you to get this under control and get back on the field. We need you out there.”
“Yes, sir. What’s the tutor’s name?”
Coach Vaughn digs into his pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper. He unscrambles it and squints his eyes. “Casey Boone. And you’re supposed to be meeting her brig
ht and early at the library tomorrow.” He gives me a final pat before I’m outside in the locker room.
Casey Boone.
The name doesn’t ring a bell but I like the way that it rolls off my tongue. All I know is that I feel bad for her, because she’s not going to know what hits her tomorrow.
“David? Earth to David?” Dwayne yells into my ear and shoves me to the side, almost spilling the drink in my hand.
“What?” I yell back and suck the drops of alcohol that are on my wrist. Asshole almost made me waste perfectly good whiskey. It takes a couple blinks for me to concentrate. Loud music and colorful lights bounce off the wall and onto my face, blocking my senses. And that’s not all.
Ever since I got back from my meeting with Coach, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything. Everyone is excited about our upcoming game and I’m just left there nodding along with their words. I can’t bring myself to tell them that I’m suspended. I don’t want to deal with the questions that come afterwards.
Dwayne turns to me and brings a hand in front of him, before pointing to his side. I follow his finger to two blonde sorority girls eyeing me from across the bar. When they see me looking at them, they throw me a smile. One of them even pushes her arms together, almost forcing her huge breasts to pop out of her shirt. Normally, I would be all over that, but not tonight. I wave back meekly.
“These two ladies would like to show us their rooms.” He smiles at them and tries to pull me toward him, but I don’t budge. “Wouldn’t you like to join us?” he says through gritted teeth, giving me another tug.
“Nah, I’m good.” I easily pull away from his hand and down my shot of whiskey. I shake my head as the hot liquid burns the back of my throat and I let out a burp. I grab the thick brown bottle and pour myself another generous shot. The girls frown and get out of their seats while Dwayne looks at me like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
“Excuse us for one minute, ladies.” He holds out a finger in front of them and his hand grabs my shoulder. He pulls me off the chair, almost making me drop my shot glass and bottle of whiskey. He takes me out of the room and next to the entrance stairs, out of sight of the two bimbos. “Dude, what’s your problem? I’ve been talking these girls up all night for us. This is a sure thing. Just come upstairs and get laid. Easy peasy.”
I take another swig and my body shakes as the liquor runs down my throat. “No can do,” I blurt out. “The trooper is in no condition to run at full power tonight. I’ve had a little too much of the good stuff.” I hold out the bottle in front of him and shake it from side to side. “Want to take a shot with me?”
Dwayne stares at me and cocks his upper lip. “What the hell’s wrong with you? It’s easy pussy.” He shoves his hand into my shoulder and I bang against the wall behind me. He walks back to the bar and tries to chat the two blonde bimbos up.
He manages to do a decent job of it. He throws his hands around them and takes them away from the bar, conveniently walking around me. One of the girls points at me and I wave back. Dwayne whispers into her ear and there’s a look of disappointment on her face.
I sit down at the bottom step of the stairs and proceed to take shot after shot. I lose count after the fifth. Or was it the seventh? The only thing that breaks me out of my drunken stupor is the old grandfather clock that starts to ring. I count along with the cuckoo bird that pops out at every chime.
“One! Two! Three! Four!” I yell.
Shit! It’s nearly four in the morning!
I lean against the wall and throw my weight on it as I bring myself up. I leave the bottle and shot glass at the bottom of the stairs for anyone else who wants to continue. I count every step to the top floor; it’s the only way that I can make sure that I don’t pass out on the stairs. The door to my bedroom slams against the wall and I fall face forward onto the bed.
By the time I close my eyes, everything is spinning. There’s only one thing on my mind. And her name is Casey Boone.
3
Casey
Where the hell is he?
I lean back in my chair and stare at the clock. Every minute has passed excruciatingly slowly. I’ve wanted to leave at least a dozen times by now. Usually, I wouldn’t put up with someone being over an hour late. But, there’s something different about David. I also promised Melissa that I would give this my best shot.
At least, that’s what I was going to do. But right now, he’s almost an hour late and I have better things to do than wait for him. I shuffle the sheets of paper that I’d laid out. My whole tutoring plan is going out the window. I curse under my breath and can feel the blood rushing to my face. I woke up and got here early. All of that was for nothing.
I should have left the second that he was late. That way I could have taught him a lesson and not been here wasting my time. I pull hard on my zipper and it breaks at the side.
Great! This is all I need. This day isn’t exactly turning out how I hoped it would. I guess that I shouldn’t be too surprised by this.
He’s just the stereotypical jock. Doesn’t care about anyone but himself. Probably forgot about our scheduled meeting for this morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went out last night and got drunk.
An image of David with some sorority bimbo flashes in front of me. I shove the rest of the papers into my backpack, not caring if they get crumpled or not. I don’t know why I’m angry. I shouldn’t give a shit about David and what he does on his off-time, but for some reason I’m mad.
I look up at the clock as I make my way to the door. It might have to do with the fact that he’s officially an hour late. All of this has been such a waste of time.
And to think that I was excited to tutor him. I wanted to help him get on the right path. Help him get back in the game and winning. Something tells me that they won’t go too far without their star quarterback.
Everyone on campus loves the team and wants nothing but the best for them. The thought that I could come in and save the day would have been great. I obviously got a little ahead of myself. A person failing this many classes like David doesn’t care about being prompt or my time.
My hand grips the door handle. This is the last time that I do a favor for Melissa Dunn. I’m going straight to her office and telling her that I don’t have time to waste with someone who can’t even be bothered to show up. I throw open the door and take a step forward.
Right into something hard and soft. It’s a light blue t-shirt that comes out in front of me.
This shouldn’t be here. I reach out and let my hand run up the curves of the blue shirt. I blink a couple times and take in the blue color that is inches from my face. Slowly, I look up, and I’m met with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. And the biggest grin that I’ve ever seen.
“Is this how you greet all your students or just me?” His eyes fall down the side of my body and stop at my waist. He nods in approval before he returns my looks.
The rush of heat to my face is fast and intense. I want to crawl up into the darkest corner of the library and die. Instead, I do the only thing that comes to mind. I move to the side of him and rush a hand to my mouth, trying to block out the redness on my cheeks.
“Watch where you’re standing,” I shout and try to move past him, but he shoots a hand out blocking my way.
“Excuse me?” he chuckles. His chuckle is deep-sounding. Calming. Mellow. The kind of chuckle that shakes me to my core. I let the shiver run through me, and that’s when I notice my hand is still on his chest, firmly grabbing at his right pec. “You’re the one who bumped into me.”
“I wouldn’t have to watch where I’m going if you didn’t take up the whole doorway.” That has to be the worst excuse that I can give. Blaming him for being too big. I peel my hand off his chest and try to duck under his massive arm. I almost manage to slip by him when his hands grab me by the sides of my arms. His fingers curl at my arms and pull me into the room. I’m expecting him to be forceful with me, yet he moves me into the room like I’m nothi
ng but a mere annoyance.
“And where do you think you’re going?” His thick, smoky voice reverberates through the small study room. I bite down on my lip as my eyes lock on his long, thick fingers. They’re rough and callused, probably from all the time on the field. “We have an appointment, teach.” His words are crisp and aim to tease me. I try not to let it affect me, but I can feel the warmth between my legs rise.
“We had an appointment,” I correct him. I move my shoulder and get out of his touch, sorely missing it the second it leaves. I stick out my hand and point at the clock. “You’re over an hour late. I don’t have time to wait for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” He shrugs his shoulder and his backpack swings out in front of him. He opens it and takes out the manila folder that I’ve grown to know. “What’s the supposed to mean, bookworm?”
Bookworm? Is he not listening to what I said? I just told him that I don’t have time for this. I’m not going to waste my time with someone who doesn’t want to be here.
“A jock who doesn’t care about his grades. You clearly don’t care since you’re here so late.”
For some reason his nickname comes to the forefront of my head.
Big Jock.
A sudden urge takes over me. I try to resist it but I fail. My eyes fall down the middle of his body and firmly lock on his crotch. All of a sudden, I want to know why they call him the Big Jock. I want to know if it’s true or not.
I can almost make the outline of something against his thigh.
I hold my breath. There’s no way that it’s that big. That has to be a cellphone or pencil case in his pocket. I run my tongue along my lips and shake my head. When I look up, he’s grinning from ear to ear.
Busted.
He nods along to my words but it doesn’t look like he’s really listening. He grabs the door and shuts it behind him. He holds out the manila folder in front of me.
Big Jock : Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 2