Draw Play: A Sports Romance Read online

  I told myself it didn’t matter and waited while the girl behind the register rang up the books. She took every opportunity to glance up at him and smile coyly. I could have strangled her. If things had only turned out differently, I could have been the person ringing up the books while she tutored him. From the eyes she was making, I didn’t think she would mind. I could have thrown up.

  We left the bookstore, with me turning toward the dorms the second my feet hit the pavement. I wanted the whole ordeal to be over with. I’d never felt more embarrassed, and I knew that if anybody asked me exactly why I felt that way, I wouldn’t know what to say. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Claire! What’s with you?” he asked.

  I tried to ignore him.

  “Hey! I asked what’s with you.” He caught up to me then blocked my way. “Listen, I’ve blocked three-hundred-pound linebackers. Don’t even try to get past me.”

  I sighed. How could I say it without sounding pathetic? “Are you sure you won’t run into somebody you know at the library? Since you’re this famous person?”

  He frowned. “Famous? And I probably will. So what? It happens.”

  “And that won’t bother you? Being seen with me?”

  A mixture of expressions crossed his face, he seemed to relax. “Oh, is that it? You think I don’t want to be seen with you?” He smirked. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “Apparently, I’m not good enough for your frat house,” I replied, wrapping my arms around my waist. I felt so exposed, and in front of a stranger, I couldn’t stand.

  His mouth fell open, he then threw his head back and laughed. I wanted to shrivel up and die. I tried to get past him, but again he blocked me.

  “Fuck you.” I snarled, unsuccessfully trying to maneuver around his powerful body.

  “Wait! Hold on. Is that what you thought I meant? Jesus Christ.”

  “Will you move? I’m over it.”

  “Claire, stop. Listen.”

  “I have shit to do, Jake.”

  “Let me explain myself. I meant it’s the last place in the world to get serious work done. I usually wear my headphones when I study, and even then, I still hear everybody else’s music, the TVs, whatever.”

  “Oh.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “Yeah—” He grinned.

  “Well, no wonder you’re not doing very well. I couldn’t imagine trying to study in that type of environment.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said with a chuckle. “So, the library is probably the best place. Unless you can think of somewhere better.”

  “No, the library works.” I even smiled a little, and he smiled back. It didn’t matter that dozens of people walked around us. For a second there, it was only him and me. I finally felt, seen, and heard for once. It was a big moment.

  7

  Jake

  “First things first, though. How do you usually structure your time?”

  I gave Claire a look that must have told her how lost I already was, and she sighed. I hated that sigh. It made her sound like a disappointed mother. “Sorry. Nobody ever taught me how to study.”

  She frowned. “Are you’re serious?”

  I glared at her. “Yeah. It’s possible. I didn’t even know there was anything to it until you asked me if I knew how.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table. We had chosen one far back in the library, trying to get a little quiet and a little privacy. Already three people had walked up to say “hi” though. I could feel Claire getting more annoyed with every interruption.

  “Okay.” She folded her hands. “Are you a good note taker?”

  “All right, I guess.”

  “Do you even take notes?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Okay, fine. You take notes. Are they handwritten or typed?”

  “Written. I don’t type fast enough to keep up.”

  “Me neither.”

  Wow, the first thing we agreed on. She wasn’t so perfect, after all.

  “So, the first thing I do after class, or as soon as I can, is type all of that day’s notes.”

  I stared at her. “You type them? Instead of just writing them out? Why would you double your work?”

  “It helps me in two ways. If I abbreviated something because the professor was talking too fast and I couldn’t keep up, I’m more likely to remember what he or she was saying if I review the notes that day. I can make the point clearer when I’m typing. Second, it helps me commit the material to memory.”

  I shook my head. “That’s a lot of work. I usually have all my time wrapped up in practice and stuff.”

  She tilted her head. “Since when is a badass football player afraid of a little extra hard work?”

  “That’s something I’ve meant to ask you.” I leaned forward. “Why do you keep talking about me playing ball like it’s a bad thing? What’s your problem with football players?”

  That got her. She wasn’t so full of herself anymore. “Nothing.” Her voice was quieter.

  “Bullshit.”

  She stared defiantly. “I told you it’s nothing.”

  “Don’t act like I’m some stupid jock who doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground,” I snapped, trying my best to whisper.

  “Aren’t you?”

  I shoved myself back from the table and stood. “Fuck this. I don’t have to take this shit from you. Tell Coach whatever you want to tell him.”

  “And you’re giving up that easily, huh?”

  “What if I am? I can do this shit on my own. I always do well enough on my own.”

  “Got it. And just doing well enough is enough for you?” Her eyes were narrowed, and I noticed for the first time what an unusual shade of green they were. Probably the prettiest thing about her.

  I shook myself to get my head straight. “Everything I’ve got I put into my game. Everything. What little I have left over goes to my family. So I’m sorry if I don’t care too much about getting straight A’s. I’m sure you do, though. You don’t have anything else going for you, the way I do.”

  That stung. Claire sat back in her chair, and all the fight was gone out of her. Asshole, I thought. What a shitty thing to say.

  I sat down again. After a deep breath, I said, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t cool.”

  Her voice was flat, with all the fight gone from it. “I’m pre-law, Jake. I don’t get to fucking screw around. If I want to get into a good law school, I have to be the best. Just like if you want to get onto a pro football team after college, you have to be the best. It’s the same thing, just different goals.”

  I hated myself for going that extra step too far. “You’re right. But that goes both ways, too. You work hard. I work hard. Just for different things.”

  She nodded, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. I have to get over my issues with guys like you. I admit I have them.”

  “Why? Did they bully you? Not all football players are the same. I hate being stereotyped.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Funny how that’s the first thing you guessed, though.”

  “It happens. I never said I did it. A lot of people have trouble with jocks, though.” I waited for her to explain to me why she had a problem, but she didn’t.

  “Okay, let’s get back on track, please,” Claire said like nothing happened.

  I shook my head—if she wanted to drop it, well, that was all right with me.

  “I think another good idea is to have a calendar for the semester and plug in the dates you know you’ll have something due. You can work around those dates and plan out how you’ll prepare for an exam or paper.”

  “You plan for papers?” I asked.

  “My papers have a lot of research in them. I have to find cases to back up my points.”

  “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work.”

  “It is. But I like it.”

  “You do? I mean, really?”

  “Yeah, actually. Do you really like hurting yourself every week during
a season?”

  I laughed. “Okay, I get it.”

  She grinned. “I like the law. I like figuring out ways to prove a case.” Then she tapped her pen against her chin, looking at me. “Why do you want to play football?”

  “Because it’s what I love to do.”

  “Why, though?”

  “It’s fun.”

  “So why not play it on a local team or something? Why do you want to play it professionally? Don’t say it’s not for the money.”

  “Oh, it’s all about the money.”

  She snorted, but I wasn’t laughing. She didn’t know how serious I was, and she didn’t need to know.

  “Hey, Jake?” I felt a tapping on my shoulder. When I looked up, I saw a welcoming sight: a pair of tits inches away from my face. Attached to them was a smiling girl in a too small pink tank top.

  “Hey,” I said. I had no idea who she was, but she knew me. I was used to that.

  “When’s your next game again? None of my girlfriends know the schedule.” She twirled a strand of her brunette hair around one finger, glossy red lips curved in a smile.

  “It’s this weekend,” I told her. “We’re playing against the Indiana Hoosiers, but we’ll be back for a party later that night. I hope I see you there.”

  “I bet you will.” She winked, gave me one more look at her cleavage. “Go Wolverines!”

  “Later,” I replied, staring at her ass as she walked away.

  I felt Claire’s eyes burning into me.

  “I guess it’s not just about the money, huh?”

  I couldn’t ignore the tone in her voice, but I did my best to overlook it. She was just jealous she would never be hot like the cutie I just talked to.

  “Back to business.” Right. We were there to talk about studying. How did we keep getting off track? “So, you’re typing, you’re entering things into your calendar. You’re reverse engineering so you know what you have to do to be ready for what’s coming up. Then you can add, you know, other things you need to do. It’s all about being organized, that’s all.”

  “And taking the time to do the work.”

  She grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Tomorrow, then? Around six?” I turned to her when we left the library. It was one of those weird “what next?” moments. “I have practice till five, and trust me—you want me to shower after that.”

  “I’ll be here,” she said.

  We smiled a little awkwardly at each other, it was then I noticed for the first time how dark it was already getting at night.

  “I can’t wait until the days get longer again.” I looked at her. “Do you need a ride to your dorm? Or somebody to walk with you?”

  A funny look came over her face, but it was gone in a flash. “No, thanks. I’m sure I’ll be okay. Nobody’s going to mess with me.” She flexed an arm, grunting.

  “Not even close to these biceps.” I flexed, showing off my chiseled arms.

  “Whatever, Jake.”

  We shared a laughed, which felt awkward again. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She gave me a little wave and hurried away.

  I followed her to the dorm, at a distance so she wouldn’t know I was tailing. When she walked in through the big double doors, I went back to the library and got in my car. It wasn’t until I reached the first intersection that I realized I was grinning to myself.

  Everybody was at the frat house when I got there. I hoped nobody would wonder where I had been, but nobody seemed to notice. They were all gathered around Zack, who was resting after his injury. Not that I was glad he got hurt, but I was happy for the distraction. He’d be back on his feet by the second game of the season.

  “Yo, Jake.” Brad waved me over to where he sat in the living room. I tried to hide how irritated I was—I was just about to escape, too. When I went to him, he said, “I saw that girl Jenny today. The one you use to hook up with.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “I was wondering how serious you were about her. She seemed pretty down to fuck if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s down to fuck anybody on the team.” Shouted one of the other players and the house filled with laughter.

  “Since when is he ever serious?” Preston asked, mocking.

  “Since when are any of us?” I replied.

  “I am,” Max said. We all gave him shit, but it was in fun. He had been seeing a girl since the end of the last semester. Before then, though? He screwed the whole cheerleading squad and half the girls on campus.

  “Fine, other than Max. What are you saying, bro? You want to fuck her?”

  Brad shrugged. “Like I said, she’s down for it.”

  “Go for it, then. I don’t care.” I didn’t, either. Jenny wasn’t anything to me, just somebody to screw around with when we were both together and in the mood. Plus, I knew she got around. As long as you played sports at the UM, she would eagerly be on her knees at your service.

  “Yeah, not like he won’t be able to score new pussy at the next party,” Zack called out.

  “Is that all life is to you, Zack? Partying and pussy?”

  “Uh … yeah.”

  “Whatever, fellas,” I replied.

  We all laughed. I shook my head as I jogged up the stairs.

  A party. I sat down at my desk. They were already planning another party after our first game. Why not? It was what we did. I knew Coach would be pissed as hell if he found out I was partying when I should have been studying. How would I get out of it? Did I even want to?

  No, I didn’t want to. Who the hell was he to tell me what to do? It wasn’t like I could stop living my life and waste my college years. I would go to the party. I had the rest of the weekend to study.

  Claire’s face came to mind. I shook my head. So what if she cared? She didn’t even have to know.

  8

  Claire

  It was an interesting first week.

  I decided it would be a good idea to bring my own work with me to the library. I had more than enough to do, after all. I hoped watching me work would set a good example for Jake, too. Once he stopped posturing and acting like the big, tough football center—if I remembered correctly—he wasn’t a bad guy. He seemed sincere, almost.

  On Thursday night, I was deep in the middle of reading for my Ethics course, while Jake typed up notes from his Sociology course. Only I wasn’t making any headway in my work. I found myself reading the same page two, three times.

  Maybe it was because I kept looking up at him.

  I couldn’t help myself. Jake looked so focused, sitting there typing with this look of determination on his face. I told myself it was like watching an animal at the zoo. Every once in awhile, he would smile to himself like he understood something. It was sort of nice to see.

  Then I would turn my attention to my reading and curse myself for getting off track so quickly. If this was the way work-study would go, I might lose my precious GPA.

  When he finished, he closed his laptop with a sigh and picked up a book. “I’m reading Lady Chatterley's Lover,” he murmured. “We’re just starting it.”

  I glanced up at him with a grin. “You know what it’s about?”

  “I’ve heard some things.” He licked his lips, and I felt a little chill go through me. “I guess you’ve read it, then?”

  I nodded.

  “For school, or recreational reading?” There was a teasing quality to his voice. I reminded myself to relax.

  “My pleasure reading wasn’t quite so erotic back in high school.”

  “Is it now?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Oh, yeah. Extremely.” I lifted the oversized Ethics textbook.

  “That’s not pleasure reading,” he pointed out.

  “I don’t really have time for it,” I admitted. “I wish I did. I miss reading for fun.”

  “That’s the one thing I’ve always liked to do. Reading.”

  “Hence the English major?” I aske
d. I could tease, too, though it was evident how far out of his league I was.

  “Yeah. Hence the English major. I don’t know, I never thought I was very good at anything else.”

  “Just football and literature,” I mused.

  “Pretty much and I used to have to hide my reading at home when I was a kid.”

  That stopped me cold. “You what?”

  He looked flushed, his tanned skin turning a shade of red I’d never seen him wear. “Forget it. Let’s get back to work.”

  “It’s okay. Really. I think it’s a shame that you had to do that. I just can’t relate, so it surprised me.” My reading was all but forgotten as I turned my attention to him. I leaned my head on my hand. “What happened?”

  He pursed his lips like he was considering whether or not to tell me. After a deep breath, he said, “My mom thought all my time should go to football. I mean all of it. If I wasn’t practicing, I should be training. If I wasn’t training, I should be watching it. Reading wasn’t going to get me anywhere.”

  I did my best to suppress my look of horror. It was unimaginable. Reading wouldn’t get him anywhere? Where the hell did he grow up? A ghetto? Then I realized it was entirely possible that he had.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s awful.”

  “I had to read for school, too. You know? I didn’t want to fail. So I would read in bed, under the covers, with the flashlight. Most kids were doing that if they wanted to look at their dads’ Playboy or read comics.” He chuckled, staring at the table.

  For the smallest of split seconds, I saw him as that little boy, and my heart went out to him. “Do you really love football?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. No doubt. Why?”

  “I was just wondering since it sounds like you weren’t given much of a choice.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s what I like to do best.” He opened his book and started to read. “Except for one other thing,” he muttered.

  I kept my eyes downcast.

  No way was he flirting with me. Me! Of all people! I wasn’t blind. He could have had any woman he wanted, including the pair who’d already come over to flash their cleavage in his face. I didn’t respond to him. I wouldn’t let him trick me.