The Balled And The Beautiful: A College Sports Romance Story

by Chance, Nicole

  “Cool. My coach said you could help me with my American lit class,” he said.

  “I can do that,” I said cautiously. I wondered exactly how much ‘help’ he wanted. I’d heard a lot about Carson last year. His sexual exploits were the main thing I remembered. There was a rumor that he’d slept with the president of the English Society, Amanda Ellis. She was a straight-laced girl with no reputation whatsoever until Carson came along. Now she was pretty much called a slut by everyone in the Liberal Arts building. I wasn’t about to be his next conquest.

  “Cool,” he said again. I wondered if his vocabulary was as limited as it sounded. If it was, he was going to have a lot of trouble passing Dr. Rice’s American lit class.

  “Why don’t we go into one of the tutoring rooms?” I asked him.

  “Sure,” he said… again with his expansive vocabulary.

  I forced another smile and grabbed my bag. I then unlocked the door to the tutoring room. It was just a small room with one window and a desk, with two seats placed across from each other. I took the one facing the window and let him have the other. I didn’t want a passing bird to be too much of a distraction for his Royal Jockness.

  He sat his bag down and situated himself in the chair by leaning back and spreading his legs in that ever-confident classic male pose. I was going to teach him some discipline if it killed me.

  “So, can I look at your syllabus?” I asked him.

  He fished into his bag and drew out a crumpled group of papers, all of them I was assuming were from his first day of his senior year though they looked like they could have been inhabiting the bag for several semesters. He looked through them and found the one for Dr. Rice’s class and handed it to me.

  I smoothed out the crinkled paper and looked it over. It looked like they were starting with Cotton Mather, a classic choice. They’d be talking about the Salem Witch Trials within the week.

  “Do you have your book?” I asked him.

  He fished that out of his bag, too, and laid it on the desk.

  “The best thing we can do is just get started right away. Mainly, what you want to do in these classes is to stay on top of your readings. If you get behind, it’s virtually impossible to catch up,” I said.

  “I’ve managed before,” he said cockily.

  I looked up at him. He smiled at me with half of his mouth. It was a kind of smirk that let on he knew more than I did, which I highly doubted was the case.

  “Well, that’s not how we’re going to do it this semester,” I said, smiling back at him.

  “Whatever you say, teach,” he replied. He was so confident it was obnoxious. I wondered if anyone had ever knocked him down a peg or two and made him realize that life didn’t revolve around good looks and charm…. Probably not.

  “Turn to page fifty-six,” I told him.

  He did as I instructed.

  “Read all of that tonight. Answer the questions at the end of the reading and repeat the process on the readings for Wednesday. Don’t skip the author introductions because Rice likes to do pop quizzes on those. Just read all of it. Take your time to answer the questions and bring them to me on Monday. Make some notes about whatever is giving you trouble and we’ll go over it,” I said.

  “Will do,” he said, still smiling. I was relatively sure that he’d been staring at me the entire time though I’d looked away several times. I wasn’t the most confident person and sometimes when someone was looking me directly in the eye it was hard to maintain eye contact. He made me uncomfortable with how comfortable he was with himself.

  “There’s not much else we can do today,” I said, hinting for him to get the hell out.

  “Whatever you say, teach,” he repeated from earlier. The words unsettled me like there was something else he wanted to do but I was preventing him. My eyes lingered on his pecs for just a few moments longer than necessary. “Like my shirt?”

  “Oh—yeah,” I said, lying entirely. I didn’t even know what the shirt said.

  He smirked at me as though he knew I’d been staring at his body and not his shirt. I felt further unsettled. I wanted him to get out. Now.

  I stood up from the desk, and he did the same.

  I started towards the door, and he started at the same time. Together we jammed the door, and I backed away from him as our arms touched. He reached up a hand and placed it on my shoulder.

  “See you Monday,” he said, barely above a whisper. I felt my stomach somersault.

  He walked out of the tutoring office and down the hallway, and I was left sitting behind the desk reorganizing my thoughts to make room for the force of nature that was Carson King. I wasn’t going to be one of his girls that he told stories about to his friends in the locker room. I wasn’t going to be the next Amanda. At least, I hoped I wasn’t.

  Chapter 3

  That weekend Elle wanted to go to a house party at one of the fraternities. I was completely opposed to it and rolled my eyes as she brought it up for the millionth time.

  “Kat! Loosen up!” she said with emphasis on the ‘up.’

  “I am loose,” I said rather stiffly. The week had been a long one. After Monday with Carson, I’d had a couple of other students sign up at the tutoring lab plus my courses were already heavy into the readings. I was supposed to have the first several chapters of The Hobbit, a C. S. Lewis book, and several other readings done. Tutoring had cut into my reading and studying time, so I was a little stressed, to say the least. Nothing out of the ordinary and Elle noticed it.

  “You always get like this and then everything turns out fine! There’s no reason to be so worried about everything all the time, Kat,” she said.

  She had a point. I always seemed to make everything come together at the last minute, making deadlines and getting A’s no matter how crunched for time I was. Maybe I did need to loosen up, but I didn't think that a frat party was my idea of a good time; however, there weren’t any other options unless I wanted to go out by myself.

  “Let’s go, c’mon,” Elle begged.

  “Okay, okay. Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in surrender.

  Yay!” she squealed. “You’re going to have a great time!”

  I doubted that, but I didn’t want to rain on her parade too much.

  We both started getting ready and, as usual, I was all set to go about thirty minutes before Elle. I sat on the couch and waited for her. I went through my e-mails to see if there were any more students that would be coming to the lab in the upcoming week. It looked like there were two more, which meant my week was fully booked. I groaned. That meant even less time to keep up with my studies.

  After a little while, Elle came down the hallway into the living room. She was wearing a pair of jeans that looked like they’d been painted on with an airbrush, a tank top, lots of jewelry, and high heels. I was underdressed if this was the code.

  “How do I look?” she asked me.

  “You look great,” I said. It was true. Elle always looked great. She was beautiful, and she knew how to use it to her advantage. It was a skill I had never mastered, and I didn’t think of myself as beautiful. I preferred to think of myself as smart.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  I followed her out the door, and we walked a few blocks to the row of frat houses. Parties were raging at each of them. Some of the guys were on the lawns playing football in the dark. There were other games going on, too, and lots of pretty girls were hanging out with the guys. I assumed most of them were sorority girls.

  “This is it,” said Elle as we walked up to a large house that had a classical style to it. A typical frat house, I thought. We walked up the sidewalk and rang the doorbell. A guy immediately opened it with a beer in one hand and greeted us.

  “Come in, ladies!” he yelled above the noise of the party. I could see a long table set up with red Solo cups and a game of beer pong in progress.

  “Thanks,” Elle said with a smile. I passed by him forcing a smile of my own.

  W
e wove in and out of guys and girls mingling in the party. There was a shuffleboard table in one of the rooms, and some people were playing. I saw a girl sling the puck way too hard and go off the table. The others urged her to finish her beer, so I was pretty sure they had turned a simple game into a drinking game.

  “You guys want a beer?” a guy asked Elle and me.

  “I’d love a beer,” I said, needing to get some alcohol in my system if I was going to socialize successfully with these people.

  He waved a hand for us to come on. He walked into the kitchen and up to a keg of beer. He got two red Solo cups for us and filled them with Bud Light. I took it gratefully and had a sip. Beer from a keg always tasted good to me. I smiled over my cup at Elle, feeling myself beginning to loosen up already.

  “Let’s get in on the beer pong game,” she said conspiratorially.

  I wasn’t feeling that loose yet, but maybe if we watched a couple of games and I got another beer in my system, I’d be ready, so I nodded and followed her back to the front room with the long table where the group of people was gathered to play the famous drinking game.

  A guy with a backward cap was intent on making a final shot that would eliminate the other team. He aimed carefully with his arm up and the ping-pong ball in hand. Everyone in the room got quiet to allow him to focus like he was a professional athlete. I suddenly wondered if maybe this should be a school sport. The idea of someone getting a beer pong scholarship caused me to giggle. Elle shot me a look, and I mouthed “sorry” to her.

  The guy with the backward cap took a deep breath and threw the ball. It hit the rim of the cup on the opposite side of the table and made two circles around the rim before sinking into the cup. The crowd went insane. People yelled and jumped up and down, and the victorious player was picked up by his teammates. I could help but smile at the whole thing; it was so absurd.

  Finally, the celebration died down as a couple of guys set up the Solo cups for the next round of beer pong players. Then one of them turned to me.

  “You wanna play?” he asked, and I could tell he was slightly tipsy. He grinned crookedly at me, and I had to admit it was charming. I looked at Elle, who was talking to someone else and looked back at the guy and nodded.

  He motioned for me to come over and join him at the head of the table and I did. He was showing me how to throw the ball when a hand grabbed my shoulder, and a body came between the guy and me.

  “I’ll be her partner,” said Carson King.

  I groaned much as I had during our first tutoring session. Great. He was here. Just when I’d thought I’d be getting a break from work.

  “Cool, man,” said the guy. He stepped away and left Carson and I to it at the beer pong table.

  “You a good player?” Carson asked me as he straightened up the rows of cups. One of the guys handed him a beer and he started to fill them about halfway.

  “Uh—yeah,” I bluffed.

  “You’ve never played in your life, have you?” he asked and looked up at me from under two bushy eyebrows. He wiggled them. I felt my stomach do a dance.

  “I haven’t. No. I’ve never played,” I admitted.

  “You’ll do just fine,” he said confidently.

  “Okay!” said the guy that had previously been helping me. “Everyone ready?!”

  The crowd erupted into cheers. I felt a little bit like a gladiator entering the Coliseum for a match, and this guy was the emperor that would either give a thumbs up or a thumbs down to determine our fate.

  “Alright! Go!” he said.

  Carson stepped up and easily tossed the first ping-pong ball without any trouble into one of the cups on the other end of the table. Everyone cheered. It was my turn. I stepped up to the table with a gulp and grabbed the other ball. Everyone got quiet as I aimed my shot. Suddenly I felt a hand on mine, and the heat of a body at my back. It was Carson.

  “I’m going to help you, okay?” he said gently.

  “Okay,” I almost whispered. The contact of his body with mine was almost more than I could stand. I was thinking all kinds of inappropriate things about my tutoring student. I wondered what else he could do with his hands, and my God, it had been a long time.

  He gently adjusted my aim and then stepped away.

  “Okay, try now,” he said.

  I gently tossed the ball forward and amazingly it went right into one of the cups. Without even thinking I jumped up and down as the crowed roared. I turned to face Carson and embraced him in a huge hug. He picked me up off the ground and spun me. When he put me down, he looked down at me.

  “That was really good, Kat,” he said. His hands were on my waist.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He licked his lips as he stared into my eyes. I felt the familiar stomach flip flop that I got when I was around Carson. He began to lean in.

  “Get a room!” someone yelled.

  My face flushed with color suddenly. I was humiliated. What was I thinking? I was going to try and make out with Carson King right there in front of everyone. No wonder Amanda’s reputation was ruined… only after being with him one time. I could see how easy it was to get lost in his eyes and forget every inhibition that you had.

  I pulled away from him and listened as the crowd laughed at me. I turned and rushed out of the room, through the kitchen, and to the stairs. …I went up. There were lots of doors that I was sure led to different bedrooms. It was a crapshoot, trying to determine which ones didn’t house horny college students boning during the party.

  I tried my luck and opened the first door to my left.

  Sure enough, I walked in on two naked bodies. The guy was lying on his back, and the girl was straddling his face. I gasped. I’d never seen anything like that. They both looked over at me and giggled, going right back to what they’d been doing. I slammed the door and walked down the hallway further. Finally, I found a room that didn’t have anyone in it. I went in and shut the door.

  I sat down on the bed and realized that I was shaking. It was so unlike me to lose control of anything, especially of myself. I didn’t even know what had been going through my mind when I’d almost kissed Carson. It was like he put some spell over me. I couldn’t deny his charms.

  I looked around the well-decorated room that obviously belonged to one of the frat brothers. I wondered which one and how soon they’d be coming up here. They could be dragging their date up the stairs right now for all I knew.

  For the moment, I decided not to worry about it. Those guys were partying hard–I could hear the dull roar of loud music and laughter. I decided to get a little more comfy, so I kicked my flats off and stretched my feet out. They were aching from all the walking that I’d done in the first few days of school. My toes were pedicured, at least, I thought. That was one good thing.

  There was a knock at the door, and I sat up straight.

  “Just a second!” I hollered.

  “Kat?” came a voice.

  It was Carson. Great.

  “Come in,” I said sheepishly.

  He opened the door and walked in, closing it gently behind him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked with what looked like genuine concern in his eyes.

  I looked at him suspiciously. What did he care? Did it matter to him if I was okay or not? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy that concerned himself with the emotions of girls.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “You didn’t look fine,” he countered.

  “It’s just—I don’t—the crowd, you know?” I said and scrunched my nose up to indicate my distaste for large gatherings.

  “You can’t let that get to you. If I let the crowd tell me what to do, I’d never have made it this far in football.”

  I guessed he was right. Surprise, surprise. I agreed with the football star. I nodded.

  He sat down on the bed beside me.

  “So why don’t you tell me about yourself, Kat? I feel like I barely know you,” he said.

  “I don’t think you�
��re supposed to know your tutor like that,” I replied.

  “What could it hurt?” he asked with a grin.

  I thought it could hurt a lot of things. For one, I didn’t want to fall for Carson King. He wasn’t even my type. He was quite the opposite, in fact. I usually went for smart geeky guys that I met in the English department. I wasn’t going to succumb to his charms, so he was right. It couldn’t hurt anything.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked him.

  “When was the last time you had sex?” he asked me brazenly.

  I stood up from the bed.

  “Okay, time’s up, champ. I’m not answering that,” I said.

  “Why not? Has it been a long time? I only ask because you’re so uptight. You look like you could use a good fucking.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. This was totally uncouth. Who talked like that to a woman? And what kind of woman would fall for such bullshit? I started towards the door but was stopped when he grabbed my wrist.

  “I’m kidding, Kat,” he said softly. “Sit back down.”

  I looked at him even more suspiciously than I had earlier but I went back to the bed to give him one more chance.