Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (4 page)

 

I nodded and
opened my mouth to request a brief meeting with my tutor, but she didn’t let me
get a word in edgewise even though I was fully prepared to give everyone and
anyone an earful.

 

“Well, I’m glad
you finally came in,” she said barely masking her scathing tone. “I’m Ivy, your
tutor,” she clarified. Something clicked in me and shifted. I wanted to chew
her out, but now that I was looking at her I realized it might be fun to try a
totally different tactic with this sexy looking nerd; even though she seemed as
uptight and rigid as a flagpole.

 

Still, I wasn’t
going to take this lying down. I opened my mouth to demand some sort of
explanation from her. I was ready to ask who the hell she thought she was, but
I quickly closed my mouth when I saw her cross her arms and practically stare
me down. She was holding her own without me having said a word.

 

It certainly took
me by surprise. No girl had ever treated me like that.

 

 
I cleared my throat and looked away, keeping
my face screwed up into a scowl. If she was going to pretty much silence me I
wouldn’t allow her to see my expression soften, not even a little bit.

 

“I only have 10
more minutes until my next student arrives,” she said. I turned back to look at
her and arched an eyebrow. I had no clue why she was informing me of her
schedule. “We have time for introductions, but that’s all.”

 

I was floored. She
didn’t know who I was and, even if she did, she wouldn’t care. Uptight
prissy-pant-girls like herself never cared about guys like me. Probably because
they could never get with guys like me.

 

I stood in the
same spot for a moment, feeling dumbfounded. Even nerds had to know my name and
my face. Had she been living under a rock or something? Still, she genuinely
seemed to have no idea who I was and what kind of clout I had at Haywood
University. I watched her turn on her heel and cross the room to sit back down
at her desk, hands together atop it as she waited for me to follow.

 

Deciding my new
plan was the best, but unwilling to admit it was my only shot to do much of
anything about the situation, I crossed the room and sat at her desk in the
seat across from her. Her gaze flitted to the clock on the wall behind me.

 

“My next student
will be here any minute.” She was pretty much kicking me out.

 

Perhaps she didn’t
expect me to follow her or take a seat, but I wouldn’t budge. She had made me come
down to the Tutoring Center so now she would have to see me. Ivy looked down at
a file in front of her and after quickly flipping through it spoke up, “Mr.
Bryce,” I winced. No one called me Mr. Bryce except for stuffy professors that
held their noses up high. “You have the nerve to show up here with five-minutes
left and expect me to see you. I don’t babysit you. I don’t coddle you. Get
here on time or get kicked out of college. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have
another student coming in.” She finished with a nod toward the door.

 

 
I didn’t even turn to look. As far as I was
concerned, it was of no consequence to me whether or not that next student had
already walked in and was waiting for her. I suppressed a smirk when she
started to get huffy about me continuing to sit silently in the chair across
from her. I kind of liked it, especially when the tops of her cheeks turned a
light shade of pink, as did the tips of her ears. It was obvious I was having
some
sort of effect on her.

 

"You told on
me. You ratted me out like I was a bad school kid," I chided.

 

She smiled. It
wasn’t a kind smile or an understanding one; it was the sort of haughty smile a
superior gave someone who they were fed up with.

 

“Well,” she
started as she leaned forward on the desk, “You actually
are
a bad school kid.” She pressed her hands flat on the surface
and pushed herself up to stand. I was floored yet again. She didn’t seem to be
the least bit phased by my arrogance, much less my looks.

 

I wasn’t used to
this at all. Everything was different now in junior year and it was starting to
drive me crazy. How was it possible for everything to change so drastically, so
suddenly? What
really
bothered me was
losing– I’d lost to my professors and now this nerdy tutor with the red cheeks
was taking me for a ride I never signed up for.

 

Still, I laughed.
Two could play that game. I stood up straight to my full height, towering over
her. I lowered my gaze to her and muttered, “I don’t need you.” I shrugged and
laughed again to drive home the point that I didn’t care what she lectured on
about. I much less cared for her “services.” At least the ones she offered
within the walls of the Tutoring Center.

 

“Fine,” she
muttered coolly, “I’m pretty sure even you can find the exit all on your own
big boy.”

 

I seethed. I was
used to people begging me to do things, trying to convince me of what they
wanted or thought I needed. Ivy, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit
interested in keeping me there. It drove me nuts. To top it off, she had no qualms
about delivering her own thinly veiled scathing replies. I definitely wasn’t
used to anybody talking to me that way, not even my parents.

 

I felt watched,
becoming aware of the eyes of all the other young women and even the couple of
men in the tutoring center were watching my every move. I didn’t care. I didn’t
even give them two seconds of my attention. I was too focused on Ivy.

 

“You know what?” I
spoke quietly, “I
will
be back.” I
paused to let that sink in. I knew she wouldn’t want me as a student so even if
she didn’t show it, knowing I’d return to her for tutoring had to bother her on
some level. “But soon as my stupid grades pick up to where they need to be, I’m
done.”

 

Ivy rolled her
eyes at me. I was stunned–
nobody
had
ever done that to me. Refusing to give her any sort of satisfaction, I smiled
cockily and turned to leave. I kept my head up the entire walk out, despite
feeling completely off-kilter. Nobody had ever managed to make me feel that
way.

 

I got into my car,
practically slammed the door, and zoomed off. After circling the block a couple
times to cool down, I headed back to the house. My competitive nature started
to kick in.

 

I was going to
teach this cute little geek to take me seriously. She may have won this small
battle, but I sure as fuck was going to win the war.

 
 
 
 

 

I angrily went
home not five minutes after I finished with the student scheduled after Landon.
It wasn’t a long walk since I lived in a small house off-campus with my mother.
As soon as I crossed the threshold of the front door I noticed how messy the
place was. My mother must have had a bad day.

 

I sighed and
leaned against the front door, head back against the door frame and eyes shut.
I needed a moment before going inside to tidy up and spend the rest of the day
between homework and helping my mom. It wasn’t that I minded being the
caretaker; it was just incredibly tiring and difficult, not to mention
something that had forced me to grow up a lot sooner than most.

 

My mother’s Lupus
flare-ups were nothing new to me. They had been quite bad for years now and
even forced my mom, Paloma, into early retirement. Once the flare-ups started
to increase in intensity as well as frequency, she had no chance but to step
down from her tenured professor position at the University. Now she stayed at
home and lived off her pension as she dealt with the debilitating pain. The
medications only did so much to help. This happened right when I was set to be
a freshman at the university. Had it not been for the discount I received for
being the daughter of a professor, I would have never been able to afford
going.

 

I pinched the
bridge of my nose in exhaustion. Now wasn’t the time to break down in tears. I
already had to deal with an infuriating rich-kid-jock whose biggest problem in
life was
not
having something handed
to him on a silver platter. My poor mother, on the other hand, had to give up
something she truly loved because her body gave her pain and fatigue. As of
late, she’d had bouts of anxiety as well and the major depressive episodes came
in and out like waves. All I could do was be strong for her.

 

A lot of times I
tried to push my stress deep down inside. I liked to imagine stuffing it in a
little box inside my head. It wasn’t just the extra stress of my daily life
that weighted down on me. Seeing my mother’s condition slowly worsen was easily
the hardest thing I ever had to go through.

 

I walked out back
to find her sitting on the porch rereading one of her favorite old textbooks.
She looked up, relieved to see me. I immediately dropped to my knees beside
her, “When was the last time you were able to get to the bathroom, mom?” My
voice was gentle and kind, a stark contrast to the way I had spoken to Landon
Bryce earlier.

 

“The pain has been
too bad today to really move,” she replied sadly. That was all I needed to
hear. I helped her up from the chair and slowly walked her to the bathroom to
gently help her sit on the toilet. That was as far as she needed help so I shut
the door behind her to give her some privacy. My mother deserved at least that
last bit of independence for as long as she could hold on to it.

 

I leaned against
the wall and shut my eyes, allowing a single tear to glide down my cheek. It
had been a shit day for both of us, more so for my mom, but I was determined to
get through it. If my mother could make the most of a day riddled with so much
pain that she couldn’t even get herself to the bathroom, then I could make the
most of my day as well.

 

 
“Flowers have to grow through the dirt,” my
mother always said. It was her motto for life and it was during times like
these that I reflected on those words the most. If my mother's lupus was dirt,
I couldn’t help but think nothing seemed to be able to grow through it. I felt
so helpless.

 

“I’m done,” I
heard her call out after some groans of pain.

 

No matter how many
years had passed, I couldn’t fully ignore those sounds and cries. I doubted if
anyone with a heart could grow used to such noises coming from their own mother.
I had trained myself by now to distinguish when she needed help, when something
was an emergency, and when it was something that came with the territory of her
disease. I pushed the bathroom door open slowly and approached her to help
adjust her clothing before walking her to the kitchen table.

 

After helping her
get settled down in a seat and be as comfortable as possible, I got started on
preparing dinner for the two of us.

 

 
“Do you need anything mom?” I asked as I
pulled out romaine lettuce and some cherry tomatoes, bending forward to rummage
for carrots only to be disappointed.

 

She assured me she
was fine so I could feel free to go about getting dinner ready. I pulled out
the chicken thighs I had left defrosting, turned on the gas stove, grabbed my
favorite skillet, and drizzle a bit of extra virgin olive oil on it. Once it
was heated I seasoned the chicken and placed it in the skillet. The room filled
with a satisfying sizzle.

 

 
“I got a new tutoring student today,” I
started to make conversation.

 

“How did it go
dear?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,”
I said scathingly. I paused and turned to look at her apologetically. “He
didn’t show up, not to his session anyway.” I chopped the carrots roughly. “He
showed up late thinking he was going to ‘put me in my place’ or whatever.” I
felt the anger bubbling under my skin. I took it out on the carrots.

 

 
I tossed the chopped carrots angrily in the
salad bowl before ripping apart the romaine lettuce leaves with my hands, each
tear more forceful than the last. “He made me start my final session a few
minutes late. He threatened not to come back but changed his mind. He basically
told me he’s just using me to get his grades up but then he’ll go. It’s clear
he won’t make this easy.” I dashed over to turn off the stove and placed a
chicken thigh each on a plate for my mom and myself, huffing the entire time.
After arranging the salad on her plate, I turned to see mom’s head cocked and
eyebrows raised.

 

“What’s that
look?”

 

“My dear,” she
responded quietly as she busied her hands by slowly placing a cloth napkin on
her thin legs. I hated to see her struggle with small tasks, but she wanted to
do as much as she could on her own.

 
“It just seems this particular young man got
under your skin quite a bit. Why is that?”

 

I clenched my fist
and scrunched my eyebrows. “He’s just a dumb jock!” I said defensively. I
walked over and placed the plate of food on my mother’s place mat before
walking to the refrigerator to get her something to drink.

 

“Water is fine
dear. Sparkling, of course.” She reached out and took hold of the fork,
shutting her eyes and taking a moment to deal with whatever pain she felt. I
looked away, determined to focus on the stream of water falling out of the
glass bottle and into my mother’s favorite drinking glass. “It’s not wise to be
so dismissive of a person.”

 

I heard a crunch.
I turned to see her munching on a piece of carrot. I wanted to tell her it
wasn’t my fault Landon was just a dumb jock, but I kept the comment to myself.
He was entitled and arrogant and I wanted nothing to do with it but,
unfortunately, I wasn’t really in a position to call him off as a tutoring
client. The unfairness of it all wasn’t lost on me, but I tried not to focus on
it.

 

“It’s not just that
he’s a jock, mom,” I tried to explain, but figured it was pointless.

 

“You weren’t
raised to be a snob, my dear,” she said before tasting the chicken and nodding
in approval. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking only jocks and cheerleaders
can be arrogant.” She paused and looked at me with fondness. “Intelligent
people, those of academia, are also susceptible to become snobs in their own
way.”

 

I sighed. I placed
my dinner plate on my place mat and took a seat, tapping the edge of the table
with the tip of my index finger. I knew my mom was right, but Landon’s behavior
had bothered me even more than I’d thought. I took a large gulp of water hoping
it would calm the burning in my cheeks and pointedly ignored my mother’s looks.
I felt bad for a moment.

 

Was I making some
kind of snap judgment about him? One that was very much colored by the fact
that he was a football player? I couldn’t deny it. I thought about it for a
moment longer before wanting to change the topic and lighten the mood.

 

 
“Well, mom,
you’ve
been too much of a snob to even think of dating anyone ever
since dad passed away.” She laughed. Seeing her eyes light up that way made my
day instantly better.

 

“Oh no,” she
started, “You caught me. I guess we can all be hypocritical from time to time,
right dear?” She reached out to grab her glass of sparkling water and winced as
she lifted it. I knew the pain was bad today– I could see it in every little
movement she made. Even so, she made the effort to clink her glass against
mine, “Cheers to being snobs, then, with great taste in men.”

 

Cleaning the
kitchen up didn’t take long. It was only extended because I had paused to help
her to her bedroom and into bed. I gave her the remote control to the TV,
kissed her forehead, and walked back out to the kitchen to finish up. When I
walked to the living room I realized I didn’t have the energy to tidy up
everything else. It was late, I had a long and difficult day, and there was
still reading to get done for class. I turned off the lights after making sure
the front door was locked and headed down the hallway to my bedroom.

 

I sat at my desk
with a heavy sigh, relieved the day was over but dreading having to read for
school. It took a while for me to realize I was just staring at the printed
words on the pages of the book I needed to read for my English Literature
class. I sighed and shut the book with a thud. I was several chapters ahead of
the rest of the class anyway.

 

I got changed into
my pajamas and climbed into bed, turning on the television and mindlessly
flipping through channels until I finally settled on one showing a documentary
on prairie dogs. I ran my hand through my loose, chestnut brown hair and zoned
out. The prairie dogs weren’t as interesting as what was playing through my
mind. All I could do was replay the scene with Landon storming into the
Tutoring Center like he owned the place. For some reason, my replay didn’t go
much past that. It was my first glimpse of him in the flesh and in those few
seconds he made quite an impression on me. Truthfully, I had never seen someone
so confident in his own skin. He was so certain that he was completely
deserving of everything and anything he asked for. I couldn’t imagine going
through life like that.

 

I wanted to be
irritated by him like I was earlier, but the more I replayed the same scene in
my head the less irritated I was. I started to focus on things I didn’t even
know I had noticed, like his bright green eyes, his broad shoulders, and how he
towered over me.

 

I thought about
the way he smirked at me. My skin started to tingle.

 

Shit. Did I
actually just feel something other than complete disgust for Landon Bryce?

 

 
I got so lost in the picture of him I forgot
who he actually was, how I knew him, and how he had behaved towards me. But
that jawline, the way he undressed me with his arrogant eyes, and his stupid
devilish smile…

 

“Fuck it.” I
whispered, eager to get this (whatever it was) out of my system.

 

I sunk down in the
bed, shut my eyes, and got lost in the feeling of my hand wandering slowly down
my stomach until I slipped it under the waistband of my pajama shorts.

 

I sucked in a
quick breath, running my hand over the center of my panties. They were already
wet and warm. I pressed down harder and rubbed, arching my back slightly as I
felt the tingles around my thighs. I was already too turned on to draw out the
buildup so I slipped under my panties and shivered when I touched my bare
center.

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