Looking to Score

by CoraLee June

  My life felt like endless chips and salsa and a large pitcher of margaritas without the calories. It felt like having a good hair day minus the good hair. I was going to fucking rock this internship.

  I didn’t know what the big fuss was. Oakley Davis was easy to handle, and I was totally slaying the first day of my internship. And now, I was going to impress the pants off of Dr. Haynes and get a kickass letter of recommendation from one of the leading experts in our industry.

  Manifest that, motherfuckers. I couldn’t stop fist bumping the air.

  I knocked on the door to Dr. Haynes’s office and smoothed my hair nervously while waiting for his invitation inside. I felt a flutter of nervousness and couldn’t wait to devour his brain. There was no shame in my zombie game.

  “Come in.”

  I twisted the handle and smiled.

  Dr. Haynes’s office was smaller than I expected. The walls were lined in overflowing bookshelves, and his desk was organized chaos. It was cozy and helped to calm the rush of nervous excitement I was feeling. At least until I saw Dr. Haynes, that is. Holy. Shit. Seeing his pictures did not prepare me for this.

  Even though he was sitting, I could tell that he was tall, at least six feet, and had a commanding presence. His thick silver hair was a little bit longer on the top than the sides and perfectly styled. I had a sudden impulse to run my fingers through it. His chin was dotted with salt and pepper stubble that played into his boyish charm. When he stood up to greet me, it was clear that his abs were rock hard under his button-down shirt and perfectly cut blazer.

  “Hi. I’m Matthews. Amanda. Umm...Amanda Matthews,” I stammered. Great first impression. Super professional.

  “Miss Matthews. Thank you for meeting with me this morning. I heard you had a late night,” he greeted me. Were the bags under my eyes really that bad? Just as I was silently cursing myself for not taking the extra five minutes to put on foundation, there was a knock on the open door, and Oakley burst in uninvited. What in the actual fuck was happening here? I thought this was a one-on-one meeting?

  As Oakley shot me a smug look, Dr. Haynes said gravely, “Mr. Davis, thank you for joining us. I wanted to address your concerns with Miss Matthews so that we can all feel comfortable moving forward.” He gestured for us to sit in the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

  Shit. What? Shit. All of the confidence I had just moments before was gone. I didn’t know where this was going, but I knew it wasn’t good and the world was definitely not my fucking oyster anymore.

  “Thank you, Dr. Haynes. I guess I just didn’t realize how personal having a PR rep was going to be,” Oakley replied in an equally somber tone. Even though I didn’t really know him, I could tell that he was laying it on extra thick.

  Shit shit shit.

  “I mean, we had a good time and all last night.” He put a lot of emphasis on good time. I half expected him to start waggling his eyebrows. “But waking up to find that the girl you brought home the night before is going through your phone feels so violating,” Oakley finished while giving me a disapproving look. I could tell he was really enjoying this. Oh. My. God.

  “Yes, I understand how it would feel that way. Is there anything you would like to say, Miss Matthews?” Dr. Haynes asked.

  I wanted to say that Oakley was totally used to waking up with randos, this was not a new thing for him. But, instead, I tried to compose myself and said, “I’m sorry. It was a lapse in judgement. It won’t happen again. I just wanted to get him home safely from the bar, and when I had access to his phone—”

  “She asked me if the rumors about my large dick were true,” Oakley interrupted, definitely laying it on thick.

  I blushed and resisted the urge to hide behind my hands. “That is not true,” I argued.

  “I mean, you’re hot and all, but are all clients supposed to sleep with their publicists? I just didn’t know this was normal. And the things she asked me to do last night. It was really strange.”

  Dr. Haynes’s brows shot up in shock. “No, that is not normally condoned,” he said while picking through papers on his desk.

  I stammered, “We did not—”

  “This is a safe space, Mr. Davis,” Dr. Haynes cut me off. “If you need Miss Matthews to leave so you can file a complaint, I can arrange it.”

  My heart fucking stopped. A complaint? Forget graduating early, this could mean I never graduate at all. After everything I had been through, I could not believe that graduating college and my future in public relations was being seriously jeopardized by one stupid fuckboy.

  “I mean,” Oakley drew out, leaning forward. He stroked his chin, thinking it over. I was already planning on calling my father’s lawyer to fight this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “It was all consensual. I thought it was weird she kept wanting to read me her poetry while we fucked. And even weirder that she called my dick Mr. Snuggles.”

  I choked. I legit choked on invisible air, spit and anger for this asshole. I was so mad I couldn’t even breathe. They both stared at me as I sputtered and coughed. “I did not!!”

  “Settle down, Miss Matthews. Mr. Davis has a right to speak!” I had never been so embarrassed in my entire life. Well, I could think of one time. But I buried that shit four months ago.

  Oakley gave both of us an Oscar-worthy somber look. Like I actually traumatized him. “I’d still like to work with Miss Matthews in a professional capacity. She’s obviously good at her job. But I’d like to create clear boundaries so both of us are successful.”

  Motherfucking liar lying pants of motherfucking volcanic fire.

  “Of course. I’ll discuss those boundaries with Miss Matthews so we can work together professionally moving forward, Mr. Davis. Thank you for coming in. Can you please give Miss Matthews and me the room so that we can discuss the standards expected of her?” Dr. Haynes dismissed Oakley. I felt my face turn red and wished the floor would swallow me whole. This is definitely not how I thought this meeting was going to go.

  “Of course. Thank you for listening to my concerns.”

  Oakley got up and exited the room but made sure to smirk at me just before leaving. I imagined strangling him in his sleep. And the second the door clicked shut, Dr. Haynes let out a low sigh. “Now where is my ethics packet…”

  When I left Dr. Haynes’s office, I had a slew of things to do. I had to watch a video about sexual harassment, write a four-page paper about ethics, and I had an overall feeling of shame. It was brutal, and he didn’t even let me get a word in about what really happened last night. The hottest and most well-connected professor on campus thought I was a poetry-reading deviant that liked to nickname dicks while doing bedroom aerobics.

  Oh my lanta!

  “That was a good meeting, don’t you think?” Oakley asked with a grin. I hadn’t seen him leaning against the wall near Dr. Haynes’s office, but the moment our eyes met, I clenched my fist. I had to repeat a quick calming mantra in my head just so that I wouldn’t throat punch the university’s star football player.

  “We did not sleep together!” I growled. “You were too drunk. You literally passed out, and I had to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit all night.”

  He rolled his eyes like he thought he was fucking invincible. I had to walk away before I smacked the smug look right off his face. The last thing I needed was to add assault to my sexual pervert rap sheet. To my surprise, Oakley started to walk with me.

  “What are you doing?” I snapped at him.

  “Since we are going to be spending so much time together, I thought you might like to give Mr. Snuggles a chance to get to know you better,” he practically purred. “Or, better yet, give me back my damn Instagram password.” I knew he was just trying to get a reaction out of me. So in as calm of a voice as I could muster, I politely told him to get fucked.

  I spun on my heels, prepared to stomp off back to my apartment and come up with a way to get back at Oakley, when he grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him. My free hand coll
ided with his chest, and I looked up at him with a gasp. “This doesn’t have to be so hard,” he rasped, migrating his hands to my hips.

  Fucking hell, he was hot. But I knew guys like him. Hell, I’d fawned over plenty of men that played this role well. Attractive. Well-connected. Panty-meltingly sexy. It was predictable and painful to watch. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if he wanted to throw his reputation and future away. I had plans to work with talent that had integrity. I was the garbage woman in his dumpster fire of a career, and there was no way in hell that I’d let him burn me alive with him.

  “I know we got off to a bad start,” I began, taking a step back. I needed distance from him if I was going to establish myself clearly. The scent of his cologne was too tempting to form coherent statements otherwise. “I know you don’t care about your career. Or your image. Or your grades. Or who you stick your dick into. Or—”

  “Does this have a point?” he asked with a frown.

  “Yes,” I said, smoothing my shirt. “It does.” He tilted his chin up and stared at me with defiance, but the playfulness from earlier had disappeared from his gaze. “I really need this internship. I really need to graduate early and get out of here. I’m going to keep you organized, keep you out of trouble, and make your life easier. I am sorry for my intrusiveness this morning, but I will do whatever is necessary to pass, regardless of what you want.”

  He licked his lips, and I glared at the movement. Why the hell did this dude have to be so distractingly sexy?

  “I look forward to the challenge,” he replied before storming off.

  You and me both, asshole.

  6

  It had been exactly ten days after my shitshow of a meeting with Dr. Haynes. Ten days, seventeen manifestation meditation videos, one ethics paper, and three M&M’s later, I was finally starting to make some progress. I was sitting at the kitchen island, denying tag requests on Oakley’s Facebook from Ashleigh Delta Delta Drunk and debating on a fourth M&M when Shelby walked in.

  “Damn, you’re working again? It’s Friday night. Have you slept or done anything at all since getting this internship?” she asked with a sly smile.

  “Not really. I have to wake his ass up for practice every morning. And if I’m not chasing after him to make sure he doesn’t do live videos showing off his cock, then I’m following up with Coach Howard on his progress and assuring Dr. Haynes that I’m not reverse cowgirling my client.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  I let out a sigh. “Yeah, it is.”

  “You know he takes you for granite, right?” she asked, walking to the pantry. “I mean, I heard rumors that he was about to be permanently benched this season. His senior year! Could you imagine?”

  “Granted,” I replied. “He takes me for granted, and yes, I know. There’s coffee next to the peanut butter.” I kept talking as she fished around in the pantry. I didn’t understand how she had coffee so late at night. It was almost ten o’clock. Didn’t she want to sleep? “I don’t think he really believes that his position on the team is in jeopardy. So to him, I’m just the annoying girl who won’t let him have any fun.”

  “Granite, that’s what I said,” Shelby replied. “I have to get ready for a shoot,” she added and then walked out of the room, calling out over her shoulder as she left, “He may be a giant douche, but he sure does have a big cock!” I rolled my eyes and smiled. Seventeen manifestation videos was the magic number to be able to find it funny that the reason the whole university knew the size of Oakley’s cock was thanks to the pictures she took in my apartment.

  Despite my complaints, Oakley had actually been somewhat behaving over the past week and a half. I wasn’t exactly sure what changed, but maybe he realized that doing what he was supposed to was better than having my crazy ass around. And, bonus, he hadn’t been bothering me either. For the most part, we mutually tolerated each other. I sent him super fucking professional texts to make sure he stayed on track, and he showed up to workouts and practices just to avoid having to see me. I even got a half-assed “okay, I’m impressed” from Coach Howard.

  I think Dr. Hottie’s opinion of me was improving too. We’d had two more meetings where I managed to not make a complete ass of myself. We had come to an unspoken agreement that, unless there were more complaints, we just weren’t going to talk about what happened during our first meeting with Oakley. I was starting to feel like maybe I wouldn’t fail out of this internship and fuck up my life...again. I checked my step tracker to see where I was for the day so far. Four M&M’s was about seventeen calories. I laced up my shoes and headed out the door to run the stairs in our building.

  I was just about to start my workout when my phone rang. I sighed before checking the caller ID. Asshole Davis was calling. Lucky me.

  “Hello. How may I help you?” I answered, using the customer service voice I’d perfected while working at a call center last year.

  “Amanda?” he asked. Oakley sounded out of breath and nervous. “I need your help.”

  I listened to the background and frowned when I heard loud music and chatter thudding in dull echoes through the phone speaker. The music sounded like that weird German electronic dance shit. “What’s wrong?” I asked as I walked down the stairs and outside. My heart was racing. What had he done now?

  “You’re my publicist, right?” he asked. It was the first time he’d sounded unsure since I’d first spoken to him. The absence of cockiness in his voice made me even more apprehensive.

  “Yeah?” I responded, kind of wishing someone else was his publicist instead.

  “Well, I have a fucking mess for you to clean up. I’ll text you the address.” Oakley hung up, and I grumbled to myself as his text came through.

  He was at a frat house. Perfect.

  I held my breath the entire Uber ride to the frat house, having no idea what I was about to walk into. It was a little unsettling hearing Oakley sound like anything other than an arrogant ass. What the fuck had happened? The driver pulled up to the curb to let me out, and there were two drunk sorority girls sitting on the front lawn by the bushes. Drunk Girl One was holding Drunk Girl Two’s hair while she threw up. Oh gross, was that a fucking mushroom? Not only were they emptying the contents of their stomachs on the lawn, but their bodycon dresses were rolled up to their hips, flashing their neon thongs to the world.

  Been there, done that. Solidarity, sister.

  I walked past them into the house, scrunching my nose at the scent of sweat, booze, sex, and vomit. The bass was so loud that I could feel it vibrating in my teeth, and it was so crowded that I could barely push through. I used to live for this kind of party. It just wasn’t a fun night if you didn’t puke, sit on a random guy’s face, or post twenty-three pictures to Instagram to prove you were #LivingYourBestLife. Now, I just wanted to find Oakley and get the hell out of here.

  I walked into the next room. Standing on my toes, I tried to pick Oakley out of the crowd, but it seemed that a requirement to get into the frat was to be tall and muscular. Everybody looked the same and was blending together. This was starting to feel impossible. I was about to walk into the next room when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned toward it and ran right into Dale’s chest. Smooth, Amanda.

  Dale looked like every other cookie cutter frat daddy in this place. He wore boating shoes, and his button-down shirt was drenched in sweat from all the bodies slammed up against one another. His red hair was pushed back, like he’d been running his nasty-ass, greasy hand through it all night, and there was a bead of sweat perched on his plump upper lip.

  “Come with me,” Dale shouted over the music. I couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not, but the cup in his hand was overflowing with beer. I followed him silently, mostly because he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything I said anyway. He led me up the stairs and then down a hallway. It was quieter upstairs, so I started to ask Dale what was going on. “Where is Oakley? If this is some fucking prank, then I’ll sign him up for volunteering on a
Sunday morning, so help me Orlando Bloom.” I abruptly stopped, my voice coming to a complete halt when he opened the door.

  The room was predictably messy, with dirty clothes and empty beer cans strewn across the stained carpet. There was what I assumed to be a sorority girl crying on the bed, her head in her hands and her brown hair falling forward like a curtain around her. Oakley was standing uncomfortably a few feet away from her. Oh fuck.

  I immediately went to her. “Are you okay?” I asked, kneeling at her feet. Her head popped up, and I noted the smeared mascara trailing down her cheeks. A series of scenarios went through my mind. If Oakley hurt her, I’d end him. Client or not, there were certain lines I refused to cross—supporting a rapist was one of them.

  “I just want to go home,” she choked out. Her voice sounded rough and clogged with emotion.

  I looked up at Oakley and Dale, who were standing with their arms crossed and uneasy expressions on their face. “What happened?”

  “Chantell here is sixteen,” Oakley grumbled. My eyes widened. Sixteen? Holy shit.

  “You didn’t—”

  “No!” Oakley snapped. “We were making out, then she just started crying. I didn’t know she was underage, I swear.” Staring at Oakley, I tried to gauge if he was telling the truth. His clothes were wrinkled, but he didn’t look like he’d just attacked the pink fortress.

  I turned back to Chantell with a grimace. “Chantell, are you…”

  “I didn’t mean to drink so much. My parents are going to kill me,” she sobbed, this time even louder.

  “When is your curfew?” I asked.

  “Two hours ago,” she croaked back. “I just wanted to make my boyfriend jealous. He cheated on me last week with Tammy fucking Tabernackle. As if fucking that stupid whore is something to brag about.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Oakley groaned at my back. I stood up and let out the breath I had been subconsciously holding. My mind was racing as I mentally went over what needed to happen. First, I needed to calm Chantell down. Then, I needed to figure out a way to make sure that she wasn’t going to lie to her boyfriend or anybody else and say that she and Oakley had been about to bop squiddles. And lastly, I had to start on damage control, who saw what and who were they telling?