Looking to Score

by CoraLee June

  Oakley chuckled and grabbed my wrist. “You’re mine,” he growled playfully. “But let’s not do any labels.”

  Ah, and in the words of Tag Team, Whoomp, there it is.

  Red flag. Bright red fuckboy flag of surrendering shame.

  “No labels, huh?” I asked, scooting away. His grip on my wrist tightened.

  “This is new. I finally convinced you to go on a date with me. And yeah, I’d like to pretty much stab anyone in the eye that looks at you for too long, and the idea of anyone touching you sends me into a fucking rage.”

  “But no labels,” I repeated dryly, distancing myself even more. No labels was the hallmark of man whores. I’d had my fair share of commitment phobes, and I knew that was code for, if I don’t call you my girlfriend, there’s no accountability if I find something better.

  “Stop pulling away from me,” he growled as he pulled me back. One minute I was ready to run to the bathroom and to kick myself for risking my career for this dude, and the next he had me pinned to the mattress with his hard body. The feminist in me didn’t like being manhandled, but also that simple move had me wetter than a slip and slide. Maybe I did like being manhandled?

  “You wanna know why I don’t like labels, Solver?” he asked, pressing into me. “It becomes a game.”

  “It’s not a game. It’s a way for us to know the clear boundaries of our dynamic. What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, squirming.

  “I’ve been with a lot of girls—” My groan of annoyance cut him off. “And all of them wanted to know what we were so they could hashtag boyfriend me on Instagram. I like trophies, but I don’t want to be anyone’s participation badge.”

  I thrust my hips up in annoyance. The move simply added more heat to the moment. “And you think I’m just some girl looking to brag about my football star fuck buddy?” I asked. “I didn’t want this.”

  “And I know that,” Oakley purred, kissing my neck. I don’t know how he knew where every sensitive little spot on my neck was, but he teased them expertly. “It’s a hang up I have. I’m working on it, okay? I’m trying to navigate a lot of change right now. My party life. My image. My...my future.”

  I wanted to ask him what he meant. I really fucking did. But he looked like he was about to run from the room. I recognized how vulnerable he looked and didn’t want to pressure him.

  But I didn’t want to compromise my own sanity, either.

  “We can take things slow,” I replied. “I don’t want you dipping in any infected ponds while we’re sharing a lily pad, though.”

  Oakley grinned. “How could I possibly want another pond when this one is so perfect?” His lips found my collarbones, and that skilled tongue of his swiped out to taste me.

  Then he was gone. I was just about ready to spread-eagle for him when he jumped off the bed and started searching for something. Once he found his cell phone on the dresser, he came back. “Take a photo with me,” he pleaded.

  “I’m naked,” I argued. Oakley rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, making sure to thread our fingers together. Within an instant, he snapped a photo—making sure to crop out my freeballing titties. After what felt like two seconds of filtering, it was posted to Instagram and already had four hundred likes.

  “What did you say?” I asked as he tossed it on the mattress beside me.

  “See for yourself. I’m about to take a shower.”

  I watched him disappear, then greedily picked up his phone. The photo was slightly blurry and sweet, but it was the caption that made me smile.

  #mine

  I supposed I was okay with being his. For now.

  After some sexy time in the shower, because oh yeah, Oakley got some after that Instagram post, I had to get ready to face the music. And it was a slow haunting death march that was leading me like the pied piper to Dr. Haynes’s office for that formal discussion he promised me on the phone last night.

  What did one wear to be humiliated in front of a legend and then fired? Black? I went with all black. This was a funeral for my future, after all. And no makeup. I was just going to cry it off two seconds after leaving his office anyway. No need to have stinging eyes and mascara streaks to add to my shame.

  Oakley offered to walk over with me, but I put my big girl panties on, sucked it up, and walked over by myself. My feet felt like they were encased in lead, and the hot ball of anxiety in my stomach was radiating nervous energy. Before knocking on death’s door, I did a few of the breathing exercises Shelby taught me and repeated my favorite mantra. When I felt ready, I turned solemnly to face the door and knocked, fully aware of my own melodrama.

  “Come in, Miss Matthews,” Dr. Haynes called. His voice was cold and disappointed. I almost couldn’t make my body move into his office. This was going to fucking suck.

  I walked into his office and took my usual chair, not daring to say anything. When I finally got the courage to look up at him instead of looking at my shoes, there was none of the usual warmth in his face.

  “When we first met, I was surprised that my newest PR student was being accused of crossing ethical boundaries. Your professors have raved about your coursework. It was hard to believe that anyone could accuse you of acting anything less than professional,” he started. “Mr. Davis recently told me the truth about that night, which made far more sense than the version of things that were spun to me in that first meeting.”

  I listened intently, still not willing to speak.

  “I am very disappointed to find myself in this position again. If it were solely up to me, I would not keep you in this program. However, it is not entirely up to me. Coach Howard has made a convincing argument for you to stay. It also seems that you have charmed the entire football team. It has come to my attention that every single photo has been removed. That is incredibly impressive.

  “By the skin of your teeth, you will remain in your internship. But I think maybe we need to come to a better arrangement to ensure your success moving forward,” Dr. Haynes said, peering at me.

  “I’m willing to do anything, Dr. Haynes,” I stammered. “I have learned so much from you. I hate that I’ve disappointed you, but my work ethic is spotless.”

  Dr. Haynes got up from his desk and sauntered over to me. It was the first time since meeting him that my mentor seemed predatory. My eyes went wide when he leaned on his desk next to me. “Miss Matthews,” he purred, every syllable of my name dripping with sex. This was starting to feel like a cheap porno, but I wasn’t sure if that was just my imagination or what.

  “I think I have a way that we could work through this,” he rasped, leaning forward. I wanted to scoot my chair back but also didn’t want to show any weakness.

  “And what way is that?” I spat, crossing my arms across my chest.

  “You know I do some freelance representation, right?” he then asked.

  “Of course. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to work with you. You have such a track record of success, and I really see the value in your mentorship,” I insisted. I couldn’t figure out where this conversation was going.

  “I’m working with a company that wants a partnership with your father’s company. Plotify is taking the music industry by storm, and we’d like in on the pot.”

  It suddenly made sense. Doctor Haynes didn’t want to mentor me, and by the looks of it, he didn’t even care about my...image. He wanted an in with my father.

  “You have his number,” I began with a sneer. “I’m sure the great Zachary Haynes doesn’t need an intern’s help to get the job.” I didn’t like how I was being used.

  “We both know you don’t need this internship. We both know you’ll have your dream job after college. You didn’t have to work for it. Hell, you went streaking at your old school, and Daddy covered it up for you. I just figured…”

  “You just figured what?” I asked, emotion clogging my throat.

  “I just figured you’d like the opportunity to pretend that you deserve this. Half of this job is about
who you know, the other half is who you can bribe. We spend years teaching you ethics and best practices, but at the end of the day, we all do whatever is necessary for our clients. And I’m willing to work closely with you for a phone call with your Dad.”

  As he spoke, he grew closer and closer, invading my space with a sinister grin.

  My mind raced. Despite how little Dr. Haynes clearly thought of me, I did actually want to earn my degree and position in the industry. I didn’t want to have this just handed to me because of who my dad was. I had worked really hard all semester, and I had done a damn good job.

  “Well, Amanda?” Something about the way he said my name instead of the usual Miss Matthews made my skin crawl, and I made up my mind.

  “No,” I told him.

  “You’re really not going to make one simple phone call to secure your future?” he continued to pressure me.

  Without warning, Oakley burst through the door.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped at Dr. Haynes.

  “Mr. Davis, I’m not sure what you are referring to, but this is a private meeting with Miss Matthews to discuss the consequences of her actions,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just been attempting to blackmail me.

  “The hell it is. I heard everything that you just said,” Oakley accused.

  Dr. Haynes’s face went pale, but he remained composed. He was clearly thinking about his words very carefully, but Oakley didn’t give him a chance to respond.

  “Let me tell you how this is going to work. Amanda is my publicist, she basically pulled off a miracle by turning my image around. If you don’t pass her AND give her a glowing recommendation, I’m going to go to the Dean and tell them exactly how you ‘mentor’ your students,” he finished as he stared Dr. Haynes down.

  Dr. Haynes started chuckling. That’s right, this asshole thought being exposed for blackmail was funny.

  “And what makes you think that the university is going to side with a womanizing frat boy?”

  I watched the scene unfold in front of me in horror. I couldn’t get off this emotional rollercoaster, nor could I process what was happening fast enough to even react. And while I wasn’t totally digging the whole damsel in distress thing, I did really appreciate that I wasn’t alone.

  Oakley turned pale for a moment. “I think we both know that the university can’t handle any more bad press where my family is concerned,” he replied in a low voice. My heart sank. I didn’t want this.

  Dr. Haynes seemed to chew over his thoughts for a moment, then finally decided what to do. “Fine. I'll be following your progress, Miss Matthews. You have an away game this weekend, so I suggest you do your job. At the first sign of trouble, you can bet I’ll bring it up with the university president.” I swallowed his threat like the bitter pill it was and nodded.

  “Come on,” Oakley said, gently grabbing my hand and guiding me out of there. The moment we were away, I clutched Oakley’s arm tightly and let out a whimper.

  “Thank you. What were you even doing here?”

  He gave me a sheepish grin. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t punished. I’m glad I was here.”

  “Me too.”

  “He is a total dick. I don’t like how close he was standing to you either,” Oakley growled. I let out a sigh and nodded. The entire meeting wasn’t anything like what I’d expected. Dr. Haynes was supposed to be professional, the epitome of industry standards. Now everything I’d learned from him felt tainted by his blatant ambition.

  Oakley held me in the hallway for a moment, stroking my back and peppering light kisses on top of my head. “You really are good at your job. Don’t let him get to you,” he added. “I really want to stay, but the coach arranged a meeting for me that I can’t miss.”

  “What kind of meeting?” I asked, pulling away.

  “Nothing to worry about. Are you okay to get home? I’ll stop by as soon as I’m done.”

  “I’ll be fine. Go,” I urged, shaking my head free of the hurt. “I need to call my dad.”

  Oakley kissed my forehead again before pulling away. “Okay. Text me when you get home. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Even though the apartment was a short walk, I was exhausted from everything that had happened in the last two days. I ordered an Uber and let Bill with a red Subaru take me home. When we got to my building, I decided for the first time since the day I moved in to take the elevator instead of the stairs.

  Thankfully, Shelby wasn’t home. She was like a goddess sent from above to save my ass in my moment of total weakness last night. But today, I just wanted to be alone. I ran a hot bath and tossed in a rose-scented bath bomb that made the water turn pink and smell like the bushes that grew outside of my childhood home.

  I played thunderstorm sounds on my phone and eased myself into the steaming water. All of my muscles let go of the tension they had been holding on to so tightly. I couldn’t fight the tears anymore, so I let them fall, mixing into the pretty pink water. I sobbed until my eyes stung and turned red and puffy.

  I cried in the bathtub until the water turned cold. Shaking from a mixture of emotion and the temperature, I stood up and dried myself off. I didn’t bother draining the tub before I walked back into my bedroom, slipped on a tee shirt, and crawled into bed. Even though it was barely lunch time, I fell asleep immediately.

  23

  “That motherfucking asshole. I’m going to make sure no one works with him,” my dad shouted. I had to pull the phone receiver away from my ear. I pictured my father pacing the floor of his office in our San Francisco home. I’d called him after I had time to process everything. “The nerve of him. To blackmail my own daughter.”

  I didn’t like explaining everything to him. It was embarrassing to once again be caught up in a scandal. Luckily, my parents liked Oakley and didn’t understand the issue of us dating, and now that I was clear of Dr. Haynes’s ethics lectures, I didn’t see the problem either. I did my job. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “You don’t need his recommendation, sweetheart. You know you have a job here whenever you’re ready. You were practically raised at Plotify. You were born for this.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. This would be the hard part. “I’m not sure that’s what I want to do anymore, Dad.” He went quiet. The sounds of his pacing footsteps completely stopped. I took a deep breath and continued. “Dr. Haynes is an asshole, but something he said really hit me. I don’t want to be handed this job. And I’m actually really enjoying sports representation. I really want to succeed on my own merits.”

  Dad sighed. “I’m so proud of you. I support whatever you want to do. I’m going to chat with some connections I have. There’s a football player in New York that likes to randomly release rap albums. Maybe I could—”

  “Dad. I think it’s time you stop cleaning up my messes. I think I need to...I need to do this on my own.” I ran away to Texas because I needed to escape the bullying, but a lot had happened since that night. I wasn’t the same girl anymore. I was a hard worker. I knew my shit. I needed to find my own road, wherever it led.

  “Can we talk about it when we see you this weekend?” Dad asked.

  “What? Y’all were just here.”

  “Oh my...did you just say y’all? You need to get out of Texas pronto, my dear.” I smiled. I hadn’t even noticed that it had slipped. “And no, you’re coming here. UT has a game at USC. Your mother and I got tickets.”

  My stomach sank. My alma mater? I was destined to run into someone I knew. And since I was still Oakley’s publicist, there was no getting out of it. Shit. Shit. Shit. I told my dad I loved him and hung up the phone so that I could start obsessing, I mean, planning for the weekend.

  I couldn’t believe I forgot about the game. I had it in my calendar. Hell, I had the entire practice and game schedule in my calendar, but I guess it just didn’t register that this game was the game.

  I was definitely slipping. Normally, I would have had a countdown widge
t with annoying blinking numbers reminding me how many days left until the big game. I would also have events on every day in the calendar with a daily alarm to remind me. I decided to blame not being prepared on Oakley. It just seemed easier than taking responsibility.

  I jumped on my travel app and booked a flight, car, and hotel within minutes. My parents had wanted me to stay with them, but I decided I would be happier in the hotel. This time, it wasn’t to make sure Oakley stayed in line, it was so that I could have a safe space to hide if I needed it.

  The next thing I did was research the university media presence. I knew they were going to want to interview Oakley, because quite frankly, everybody did. After a lot of deliberate online stalking, I found three news outlets wanting exclusives. My hope was that they wouldn’t know who I was since Dad expertly buried the footage from when I decided to publicly, and nakedly, humiliate myself. Threatening to sue was apparently good enough to keep it out of the news.

  I was starting to feel semi-confident that this weekend wouldn’t be a complete shit show. I could handle this. It was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and ignoring my feelings. Someone knocked on the door, and I got up to open it, half expecting to find Shelby on the other side. She was always forgetting her keys. But to my surprise, it wasn’t Shelby. No, it was Oakley, dressed in a fucking killer suit with a bouquet clutched in his palm.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “We have some celebrating to do. My mother sends these,” he explained, holding out the fist full of flowers. “Not to brag, but I arranged them. Also, she wants to meet you.”

  Just this morning, he didn’t want to label us, now I was meeting his mother? Talk about emotional whiplash. “Wait, what are we celebrating?”

  Oakley walked inside and started shuffling around my kitchen. “Where do you keep the vases? We need to put these in water.”