The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Page 4

I take a deep breath to rein in my anger.

  “Okay, let’s start this interaction over,” I say. “You saw what it said in the email, right?”

  “What email?”

  “You didn’t check your email?”

  “No, what do I look like? A loser?”

  I roll my eyes and bite my lip to stop myself from saying something rude. I need him if I want to stay here, and I need to figure out a way to work with him—even if he drives me crazy.

  “Well, in the email that you didn’t read it said the school administration has rearranged our courses so we are both in the same classes. And based on the schedule, it looks like they took half of mine and half of yours.”

  “Seriously?” he asks and pulls out his phone.

  “Yeah, and I’m pissed because I wasted a month of studying in half my classes. And looking at yours, you’re taking bird courses—of course. What even is ‘Intro to Basic Rudimentary Pottery Fundamentals’ anyway? What even is that? And what is ‘Television and Media Arts Practical Theory Application’? What—”

  “You need to chill. You’re giving me a headache,” he says, as he continues to look down at his phone. “Why do you even care so much? These courses are easier. You lucked out. Even if you’re a month behind, brainy girl like you will have no problem catching up.”

  “I care because I’m here to get an education. For me, the purpose of class isn’t just a requirement I have to show up for occasionally so I can get on a football field. The purpose of college is to actually learn and better my life, so I’ll have a good future after this is over. Not all of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. Some of us actually need to work for what we have.”

  Mace looks at me for a long moment before shrugging and saying, “That sucks.”

  “Ugh!”

  He’s so incredibly irritating. I can’t stand him. I storm away and start down the path leading to the main walkway that winds through campus. I get about fifty feet before suddenly realizing I need to stay with him. I turn slowly and stomp back.

  I don’t want to look at him because I know he’s going to be smirking, but I must be a glutton for punishment because I can’t help myself; I look up at his chiseled face anyway. He has the most irritating smirk in the world on his lips, and I immediately regret how weak I am.

  “Come on,” I say through clenched teeth.

  I think he’s going to put up more of a fight, but he follows after me and we head to our first class.

  It’s the ugly start of our forced arrangement together.

  6

  Mace

  Man, this is worse than I thought. My hangover is pounding in my head and beating me senseless. And she’s so intense and uptight it’s awful. This is literally hell.

  We are sitting together at the back of the room in some hard, obscure fourth year class. This course is so hard and niche that there are only fifteen other students here, and I haven’t understood a single word the professor has said. It looks like he’s writing in a different language on the blackboard—but I know it’s English because Sadie told me this is a psychology course.

  “Why the hell would you take this?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “Shhh!” she hisses, and I roll my eyes.

  She’s drawing more attention to us with her loud hissing than I am with my simple, reasonable question. We’ve been hanging out together for less than an hour and already she’s driving me crazy. I thought it was the hangover giving me a headache, but I now realize it’s her.

  This bet is going to be harder than I thought. First, I have to handle being around her all the time, then, on top of that, I actually have to fuck her. This is going to be impossible. But Mason Law does not back down from a challenge—especially if that challenge is getting into some girl’s pants, even if that girl is very annoying.

  If it wasn’t for that bet, I’d probably just ditch her. I don’t give a shit if she gets kicked out of school—I actually feel like she probably deserves it. And I know I’m safe. The guys agreed with me. They can’t kick me out. Coach is just pissed and is trying to threaten me into being his perfect little quarterback, but he can’t touch me and he knows it.

  By the end of class, my headache is even worse. It feels like two jackhammers are pounding against my temples. We walk out of the room and Sadie starts heading towards our next class.

  “Let’s skip this one. I need food,” I say.

  “Absolutely not. I need to pass, and next is one of yours, so I’m already a month behind.”

  “Look, this is what I do, and if you’re going to be hanging out with me, then you need to live my lifestyle.”

  “This is why you’re failing all your courses,” she snaps back.

  “It’s not a big deal. All I take are bird courses, remember? We don’t have to be there, but if it really bothers you, then I’ll make sure I get you the notes from someone else.”

  I don’t wait for her to respond. I just turn and start walking towards the cafeteria. She’s being very unreasonable. She should be more sympathetic to my hangover. It’s not all about her. What about my needs? My needs are just as important as hers, and I need food.

  I walk down the hall and push open the door, stepping into the cool October sun. The fresh air helps clear my head a bit, and I take off across campus.

  A couple of minutes later, I hear quick footsteps behind me. I don’t bother looking back, but I know it’s her. I thought maybe she had decided to head to class without me, but I didn’t really care either way.

  7

  Sadie

  I’ve been around him for less than half a day and already I’m going crazy. I don’t know how I’m going to do this full-time. And how long do I have to do this for, anyway? The dean didn’t tell me an end date to this little arrangement. Hopefully, it’s just for this semester and then with good behavior they’ll let me go. Now that I know how close I am to getting expelled, I’m going to be a lot more careful about standing up for myself. Whatever rude things people want to say to me from now on, that’s fine. I won’t fight back. The new Sadie Edwards is a doormat—for now.

  I follow Mace into the cafeteria. Most of the students are in class, so it’s pretty empty. He walks in like he owns the place and heads straight behind the counter. What the hell?

  My pocket buzzes, and I reach in to grab my phone. I look at the screen and my face shifts into a grimace as I read the text.

  Unknown Caller: Sadie. This is your mother. Answer my calls.

  I wonder how she got my new number?

  My mother and I do not have a good relationship. She spent my entire childhood ignoring me and focusing on her rise to the top of the social ladder. After she left my dad, she jumped from rich boyfriend to rich boyfriend, to even richer boyfriend, and I barely saw her.

  As usual, I don’t answer her. I slip my phone back into my pocket and head over to where Mace is, but I stay on the proper side of the counter. He opens one of the refrigerators and starts rifling through it.

  “You can’t do that!” I hiss.

  It’s pretty empty, so there aren’t a lot of workers around to see him, but it’s my job to keep him out of trouble. Everyone may treat him like a god just because he can throw a football, but that doesn’t mean he can do whatever he wants.

  “Get back on this side of the counter,” I demand.

  Just then, a worker rounds a corner and spots him. Oh no. He’s going to get in trouble, and the school administration is going to treat it like it’s my fault.

  “Hey, Emilio,” Mace calls and then turns back to the fridge.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Emilio comes over and fist bumps Mace.

  What the hell? How is he not held accountable for any of his actions? No wonder he’s so wild and irresponsible, everyone just lets him get away with everything.

  “They keep the good stuff back here,” Mace says to me. “Right, Emilio?”

  “You know it.”

  “Hmmm, what will I have?” Mace looks aroun
d for a bit before reaching in and pulling out too much food.

  He has burger patties, waffles, fried chicken and a pizza in his arms, all of which he hands over to Emilio. Mace then slips a hundred-dollar bill into Emilio’s pocket, and Emilio happily walks away to prepare the food. Mace comes back over to me, and I roll my eyes.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  I’ve already eaten breakfast, but I get a cup of coffee then go join Mace who has sat down in a booth by the window. The jerk got enough food to feed an army but didn’t even ask if I wanted anything—I didn’t, but still he could have asked.

  “We need to talk about our arrangement—” I start, but he interrupts me with a loud groan and puts his head into his hands dramatically.

  “Can we please not? I have the worst headache already, and I can’t deal with your nagging on top of it,” he says from behind his fingers.

  I’m instantly annoyed, but I take a deep breath to calm myself. I realize I need to take a different tactic with him. Us butting heads is not going to work. I need to be the levelheaded one, and maybe then he’ll listen to me more.

  “Listen,” I start in a calm tone. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but we have to try to find a way—”

  “You’d be hot if you tried, you know,” Mace says.

  “Excuse me?”

  Just then Emilio comes over with Mace’s order. He sets the ridiculous amount of food down on the table and it takes up every inch of space. Lastly, he puts down a massive coffee and then leaves. Mace immediately starts chowing down like a man who has been lost at sea for a year and is only just seeing food again for the first time.

  I’m almost in awe and can’t help but ask, “How can you handle so much food?”

  “I practice three hours every day.”

  He leans back in his chair and suddenly lifts up his shirt. My mouth falls open in shock at the sight of his tanned washboard abs.

  He pats them obnoxiously and says, “I think I’m doing alright.”

  He smirks and lowers his gray shirt back down. It’s not fair that a guy like him has such a good body. He doesn’t deserve it.

  “During that last class, we got another email,” I say to change the subject. “It’s about some football fundraiser event in town or something.”

  I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone and read the email.

  “I’m not going to that,” he says around a mouthful of pizza.

  “You have to. The email said we both have to go.”

  “Those things are boring as hell. It’s a bunch of old, stuffy rich people who are willing to pay for the privilege of feeling like they are a part of the football program or something, but they aren’t. And the school expects me to go around and make boring small talk with them just because they donated a couple thousand dollars to buy us yet another team jet. I don’t care about that shit.”

  “I don’t want to go to this any more than you do. I can’t stand rich snobs either—or football—but I’m not getting kicked out of school just because you’re ungrateful and can’t spend a couple hours talking about the thing you supposedly love most in the world.”

  “And what will you give me if I go?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

  I look at him like he can’t be serious.

  “An education,” I say flatly.

  He makes a disappointed face and goes back to eating pizza. “I don’t know what your problem is with me. You’ve hated me since the first time we met, back when we were in high school. Your mom brought you over to my dad’s place for dinner and immediately you couldn’t stand me—don’t get me wrong, the feeling was mutual, but you’re about as cuddly as a cactus, and I’m charming as hell, so I don’t get it.”

  “I’m surprised you remember that.”

  He scoffs. “What am I? A goldfish? Of course I remember meeting someone several times.”

  “You were usually wasted when I came over, so that’s why I’m surprised. Also, you usually had a bunch of girls around so I didn’t think you’d bother to remember one you weren’t banging.”

  The first time I met Mace had been the first time I was seeing my mom again in over a year. I remember that instead of spending quality time with her only daughter, she’d forced me to have dinner with her, her rich new boyfriend of two months, and his son.

  Her boyfriend sent a car to pick me up from my dad’s place on the outskirts of Boston and bring me to a mansion in the middle of the city. I remember that as I was pulling up the circular driveway, my mom and Mr. Law came out to greet me. But before we could say a word to each other, a loud red sports car roared up to the house.

  The car was packed with people and blasting rap music. There were four guys—who I would later know as the “Players”—and a bunch of girls crammed in and sitting on the guys’ laps. None of them were wearing seatbelts, and there were open liquor bottles in some of their hands.

  Mace was driving and when he turned off the car, the deafening music stopped but my ears kept ringing. He stepped out first, and I could see how tall he was. He was muscular and his thick chocolate brown hair shone in the sun. His jaw, even at that age, was so strong it looked like he could chew glass and spit it back out. He smiled and his white teeth were blinding. He came over to us and that’s when Mr. Law introduced me to his only son, Mason.

  The rest of the people in the car spilled out and stood in the driveway, being loud and obnoxious. Mace told them to head to the pool house and that he’d join them in a moment. His dad reminded him that the four of us were having dinner together.

  “Oh, I know,” Mace said. He then looked me up and down before saying, “But I’m hoping this won’t take long.”

  It was at that moment I knew I hated him. I hated his loud friends, his obnoxious money, his good looks, his cocky attitude, and the fact that he thought he was better than me because of all those things.

  The rest of the evening didn’t do anything to change my opinion of him, if anything it just cemented my first impression. He was a spoiled bully who never had to work for anything in his life. His dad brought him everything on a silver platter, and he just had to accept it without so much as a “thank you.”

  He left the second dessert was served so he could go hang out with his friends, and I was relieved to watch him go.

  My mom only dated Mace’s dad for about a year and a half, so I saw them four times total, but each time was the same. I’d want to have dinner with just my mom, but she’d insist on spending time with Mr. Law and his douchebag son. After my fourth time at their mansion, I stopped seeing my mom, and she broke up with Mr. Law shortly after that.

  I was so happy I never had to see Mace again… until I got to Winterford University. He was walking down the hall, and I instantly recognized him and his three friends. I remember feeling dread at the sight of him, like my stomach had suddenly dropped into my shoes.

  —Wait, did he just say I’d be hot if I tried? As what he said earlier finally sinks in.

  I am not Mace’s type. I’m not a stick-thin, blonde sorority girl with big, possibly fake, breasts. What did he mean by “if I tried”? Did he mean if I lost weight or something? Probably. The guy is such a douche.

  “I’m trying to keep you on your precious sports team, so we are going to that dumb fundraiser tonight. Finish your food and let’s go,” I say sternly.

  Mace rolls his eyes and takes out his phone. I can see all the texts pop up on his screen from people whose names he’s saved as “Call me 4 a good time ;)”, “hot blonde with the legs”, “hot blonde with the boobs”, etc. I sneer in disgust and stop looking.

  I wait as he devours nine thousand more calories and then we finally head to our next class.

  8

  Sadie

  The rest of the school day is uneventful—annoying, but uneventful. I get him to agree to meet me in the bookstore at 7:30 p.m. The plan is to meet then head over to the fundraiser together.

  At 8:15, I find myself w
aiting in the dark outside because the bookstore closes at eight. I keep looking at my phone and shuffling back and forth to keep warm, when it finally hits me. I’m so dumb. Mace isn’t coming. He’s standing me up, just like before. He only agreed to meet me so I’d stop bothering him.

  I groan in frustration and wrap my long black coat tighter around my body. When the sun goes down, it gets chilly in New Hampshire in October. I start walking towards his house, which I now realize is what I should have done in the first place.

  There are a few students walking around campus, but for the most part it’s empty. The mountains in the distance glow eerily in the moonlight. When I’m having a hard day, I like to look up at them. Their massive size makes my problems shrink down until my problems seem small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things—but tonight my frustration and anger are larger than all the mountains combined. With every step, I get more and more pissed off.

  I stomp off campus and head down a side street. I’ve never been to Mace’s place before—of course—but I know exactly where it is. Everyone on campus knows where it is. He lives with the other Players and a bunch of guys from the football team in a mansion just a couple of blocks away. The place is party central and basically a frat house for jocks.

  A few minutes later, I hear the house before I see it. Loud music is blasting down the otherwise very quaint and picturesque street. I quickly arrive at the house and stop on the sidewalk to look up at it.

  The mansion looms over me. It’s a beautiful old place with a wide porch in the front and white columns stretching upwards to hold up the roof. It has dark brick and white shutters—and someone has ruined the whole thing by painting “Mountain Rebels” across the dark roof in white paint.

  I suddenly get the strong feeling that I don’t belong. The house is full of people; I can see them through the windows, framed by the curtains. And I’m out here hesitating on the sidewalk because I know I won’t fit in. I’m not a sorority girl. I’m not popular or a twig with perfect hair and perfect makeup. I shouldn’t be here, and I’m even more pissed off with Mace that he forced me to come by standing me up.