The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Read online

  The Player and the Bet

  Liv Reid

  Copyright © 2021 by Liv Reid

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Sadie

  2. Mace

  3. Sadie

  4. Mace

  5. Sadie

  6. Mace

  7. Sadie

  8. Sadie

  9. Sadie

  10. Mace

  11. Sadie

  12. Mace

  13. Sadie

  14. Mace

  15. Sadie

  16. Sadie

  17. Sadie

  18. Mace

  19. Sadie

  20. Mace

  21. Sadie

  22. Sadie

  23. Sadie

  24. Mace

  25. Sadie

  26. Sadie

  27. Sadie

  28. Mace

  29. Sadie

  30. Sadie

  31. Mace

  32. Sadie

  33. Sadie

  34. Sadie

  35. Mace

  36. Sadie

  37. Sadie

  38. Sadie

  39. Sadie

  40. Mace

  41. Mace

  42. Sadie

  43. Sadie

  44. Sadie

  45. Mace

  46. Sadie

  47. Sadie

  48. Mace

  Epilogue

  Thanks for reading!

  Also by Liv Reid

  About the Author

  1

  Sadie

  “Does this food taste better than food stamps?” Britney calls.

  I groan. I don’t want to do this. I just came to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich and eat it on the way to my next class. I don’t want to get into a fight today. I don’t have the time or the energy.

  “Hey, Toilet Paper! I’m talking to you.”

  —but she’s asking for it.

  I turn around to face Britney and her gang of four preppy girls. I find it weird people at this school keep insisting on antagonizing me. I’ve proven more than once I’m willing to stand up for myself. If there’s one thing Sadie Edwards doesn’t do, it’s back down from a fight.

  “Feel like getting your ass kicked today, Brit?” I ask.

  She smiles. I notice how perfectly applied her burgundy lipstick is and realize it’s the exact same color as my dyed hair. Dammit. Do I have bad taste? I can’t stand to have anything in common with this girl. It’s bad enough we go to the same school.

  “Not really,” she answers. “Was just bored and wanted to make sure you still knew you’re not welcome here.”

  She shrugs, feigning boredom. I roll my eyes.

  I thought schoolyard bullying stopped after high school, but I was wrong. These cheerleaders have everything. They are rich, pretty and popular, and yet they are so bored with their lives they pick on me, the social outcast of Winterford University, just for something to do. And they say I’m the pathetic one?

  “You, and practically everyone else at this school, have made it abundantly clear I’m not welcome. But thanks for the reminder. Really appreciate it,” I say sarcastically.

  Britney continues to smile as she answers, “No problem, TP.”

  Trailer Park = TP = Toilet Paper. And that’s how I got my lovely nickname. These exact girls were the ones who gave it to me when I started here last year.

  “Do you miss the trailer park?” she asks.

  “Actually, I do. The people there had a lot more class than the students at this school. They knew how to treat people.”

  Yeah, I used to live in a trailer park. I’m not ashamed. And my dad still lives in one right now. There’s nothing wrong with a trailer park, but it’s not where I want to end up, and that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m at this exclusive, challenging school. That’s why I’m talking to these privileged jerks right now. I’m doing all this because I want to make something more of my life.

  “I don’t have time for your lame taunts, Britney. You’re pathetic—while I’m bored and busy. Let’s pick this up another time. I’d be happy to kick your ass later, just let me know.” With those words, I turn and start to walk away.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her motion with her head. One of the other girls takes a step, then hesitates.

  “Go!” Britney yells.

  The girl quickly moves towards me. Ugh, I so don’t want to deal with this right now—but it looks like I’m going to have to. I spin around and cock my fist back.

  “Back off. Don’t make me fight you,” I say. “You know I will.”

  She winces and throws up her hands to protect her face. Pathetic. I’m sure this spoiled brat has never been in a fight in her life. Hell, I hadn’t been in many until I got here. The people at my old school were a lot nicer than these rich jerks.

  “OMG, GO, Hailey!” Britney yells.

  I can see that Hailey doesn’t really want to. She’s scared of me, but she starts coming towards me again anyway. I sigh. Guess I’m not going to have time to get that sandwich before class after all.

  I step towards her and raise my fists in front of my face. The look in Hailey’s eyes is one of fear, but she keeps coming.

  Hailey is average height so I’m taller than her but not by much. She’s a cheerleader, so I know she works out. I don’t know if I’m stronger than her, but my strength lies in never backing down. No matter what, I’m not walking away from this fight.

  We are two steps away from each other when—

  “Sadie Edwards, please report to the dean’s office. Sadie Edwards, please report to the dean’s office located in the Lancaster Building, second floor. Thank you,” a calm voice says over the speakers.

  “What the hell?” I mutter.

  I didn’t even know the school had a speaker system. I’ve never heard it used before, and the first time I’m hearing it is when it’s calling me down to see the dean?

  “Oooo, you in trouble,” Britney teases. “Maybe they finally realized you don’t belong here and are going to kick you out.”

  I don’t even bother responding. I just turn and walk straight out the door into the bright October sunshine.

  As I speed-walk across campus, I anxiously review everything I’ve done in the last couple of weeks to try to figure out why I’m getting called in to see the dean. I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t even notice the scenery as I rush passed it. I don’t notice the sparkling sunshine or the surrounding hills painted in the yellows and reds of Fall leaves.

  Winterford University is incredibly beautiful. I remember being in awe of it when I first arrived last year. The school is made up of dozens of old buildings tucked into a valley of the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

  I quickly make it across campus and arrive at the Lancaster Building. I push open the heavy front door and rush inside. I hurry up the marble stairs to the second floor and down the hall.

  I’ve already been in the dean’s office a couple of times because I’ve had a target on my back since the second I got to this school. I don’t know why, but the cheerleaders immediately decided I was going to be their number one enemy for the next four years. And because I don’t take any shit—especially not from a bunch of bratty, spoiled, stuck-up, pampered assholes like them—I’ve gotten called in to see the dean for getting into fights.

>   But I haven’t done anything bad in the last few weeks so I don’t know wh—I groan. Last week I shoved someone into the mud because they said something rude about my dad as I walked by. I almost forgot.

  I push open the stained glass door of the office and walk in. The secretary greets me and says they are waiting for me.

  They? This can’t be good.

  I walk through another door into the dean’s private study and immediately see who “they” are. I don’t care about football at all, but Winterford is a football school, and you’d have to be living under a rock not to know who the head coach is. He’s standing next to the dean with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He has his patented gruff expression on his face and looks like he wants me to be scared of him.

  “Hello, Ms. Edwards,” Dean Reynolds says. “Please, have a seat.”

  I make my way over to one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk and sit down. Dean Reynolds is a nice guy. The times I’ve had to deal with him, he’s always been very understanding about how hard it is for me at this school. Even when I’ve gotten in trouble for fighting, he’s been lenient. I think he’s a bit of a softie and people take advantage of that.

  Coach Hill, on the other hand, I’ve never met before but from what I’ve heard he’s a real hard-ass. I wonder what the hell he’s doing here?

  I wait a few seconds but when it seems like neither of them are going to fill me in I ask, “What’s this about?”

  Dean Reynolds shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He looks down at his hands resting on the desk in front of him, and I wonder how someone like him was able to get the job of running one of the most powerful schools in the country.

  Coach Hill just stares at me but says nothing.

  “We’ll get started in a minute. We’re just waiting for one more person,” the dean says quietly.

  “Who?” I ask, but neither of them answers me.

  The three of us sit in awkward silence and wait. There’s a clock hanging on the wall and it ticks away the seconds—each of them feels like an eternity.

  I’m getting more and more anxious. I just want to know what I’ve done and find out what the punishment is going to be. It’s the waiting and the not knowing that is torture.

  Finally, after what feels like a year, I hear footsteps coming. We all look towards the door, and I watch as Mace strides into the room.

  Mason Law, known as “Mace”, the star quarterback of the Mountain Rebels football team. The golden boy of Winterford University. The cocky, womanizing, partying, irresponsible, loud, obnoxious, everything-I-hate-about-this-school Mace Law. What the hell is he doing here?

  2

  Mace

  “What the hell is she doing here?” I ask as I walk in.

  The Miss Goody Two-Shoes of the school gives me a look and then turns back around. She may look like a bad girl, but underneath that leather jacket and those ripped black jeans, she’s a judgmental snob. I can’t stand her, and I couldn’t stand her the day my dad introduced us three years ago and she turned her nose up at me.

  “Take a seat, Mason,” Dean Reynolds says.

  I give him a look like “really?” And he sheepishly adds, “Please.”

  That’s better.

  The dean is a weak guy. I could walk all over him if I wanted to, but I don’t. I just want to know what the hell I’m doing here and get this over with as quickly as possible. I left jello shots in our hot tub with the Thi Kappa sisters for this.

  I walk over so I’m standing next to her. And what the hell is the school pariah doing here? Did one of the cheerleaders take their bullying too far and this girl is blaming me for it or something? I wouldn’t put it passed her.

  She may dress like a rock club reject, but underneath she’s a studious kiss ass—pretty much my exact opposite. She always thought she was better than me—which is rich coming from a girl who lives in a trailer park. I despise her. And I especially dislike her after what her mom did to my dad.

  She’s the last person I want to see right now. I was having a great time by the pool and seeing her is ruining my buzz—she usually has that effect on me.

  I look over at Coach. He gives me a look that I know means, “Sit your ass down, boy.” He may be my coach, but he doesn’t control me. I’m far too valuable to this school and he knows it. Besides, he couldn’t kick me off the team even if he wanted to. That decision isn’t his to make.

  I take a seat, but only to speed this meeting up.

  “Thank you both for coming,” the dean starts. “I a-appreciate it.” He stutters slightly, clearly nervous.

  I can’t help but scoff. This guy has no spine.

  She shoots me a look—and I shoot her one right back. Who does she think she is?

  “Could we hurry this up?” I ask while staring right at Miss Goody Two-Shoes. “I have some top-shelf tequila and several fine young honeys in their bikinis to get back to.”

  She rolls her eyes hard.

  “What’s your problem?” I growl, even though I already know what it is.

  She likes judging others because she thinks it makes her better than them somehow. She hates me because she was born in the gutter and is jealous of everything I have. It’s not my fault I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, and I’m not going to feel guilty about that. I’m just taking advantage of that shit, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

  I was so happy that when she got here last year, the other students were able to see through her the way I did. They looked through her snobby attitude and saw what she really was. Now she’s the school’s biggest loser. Not so high and mighty anymore, are you?

  “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, so could you let him finish?” she says as she glares at me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had anything else to do today,” I answer sarcastically.

  “—Guys,” the dean tries to break in, but he can’t. The tension between us is all-consuming. When we’re together, our dislike of each other takes over and blocks everyone else in the room out until it’s only us.

  “It’s the middle of the day,” she says sarcastically. “I have plenty of studying to do, not that you would know anything about that.”

  “And I have plenty of studying to do too… Studying the curves of some hot bodies.”

  She groans and rolls her eyes at that—like I knew she would. She’s so predictable.

  “Do you ever stop talking?” she hisses.

  “Do you, Trailer Park Princess?” I shoot back.

  “Guys!” Coach barks. “Will you shut your mouths for one goddam second?”

  She glares daggers at me, but I glare right back.

  She thinks she’s so much better than me. I can’t stand her.

  “Thank you,” the dean says to Coach with a small smile, but Coach doesn’t return it. Coach just glares at Sadie and me with a sneer.

  I know my coach doesn’t have any respect for the dean. I’ve heard him say so several times. This must be serious if he’s willing to give control over to him.

  “We called you here today because we wanted to discuss something with the two of you,” the dean continues. “Now, it is no secret that since you’ve come to the school, Ms. Edwards, you’ve had some… difficulty getting along with the other students.”

  I snort and can’t help but add, “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Shut up,” she hisses.

  I know she’s gotten into multiple fights with the other girls at school. I may not like her, but I’ll give her some respect. She stands up for herself and doesn’t take shit. If she didn’t suck so much in every other way, I’d be impressed.

  “Yes, w-well, as you’re aware, this school has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to fighting. And it seems like it’s always you who is involved.”

  “I never start the fight,” Sadie cuts in, and I can hear desperation in her voice, and it makes me giddy. I love to watch her squirm.

  “You only finish them, right?” I
ask casually.

  “Shut up, jock!” she growls loudly. I’m getting under her skin.

  I clutch my chest in mock indignation and shock. “Well, I never!”

  “Would you two shut the hell up!” Coach bellows.

  Sadie falls silent, and I lower my hand from my chest and let the dean continue.

  “As I was s-saying, Sadie, we are very close to having to suspend you.”

  I can’t help but burst out laughing. Miss Goody Two-Shoes wants to judge me for partying? At least I’m not getting kicked out of school.

  Her mouth falls open and she whispers, “You can’t be serious.”

  I stop laughing. Damn, she sounds so heartbroken I almost feel bad for the girl. Almost. I might feel bad for her if she didn’t deserve it.

  “I’m afraid we are very serious. We take fighting and the safety of our students very seriously here.”

  “But what does this have to do with me?” I ask. I’m getting bored with all this.

  “Because you are too, Mace,” Coach adds.

  “What?” I ask in complete confusion and genuine shock.

  They can’t kick me out.

  “You heard me,” Coach says. “Did I stutter?”

  “You can’t kick me out!”

  “You spend all your time partying and dicking around,” Coach growls. “When was the last time you actually went to class? Your grades are so low they are basically nonexistent. You’re a disgrace to the athletic program, and you’re bringing shame to this school through all the embarrassing shit that gets posted online. Underage drinking, embarrassing pictures, all that stupid shit you say in interviews, that is not the kind of behavior we want out of our quarterback. This school has a reputation to uphold. We have the best football program in the country and you’re pissing all over it. Being a part of this team is sacred. It’s a privilege, and you’re making a mockery of it. We want an upstanding citizen representing us, not some hard-partying playboy.”