The Player and the Bet: An Enemies-to-Lovers College Sports Romance Page 5

  I take a deep breath and steel my nerves. I don’t have a choice. I have to go get him and take him to that event tonight, otherwise I’m going to get kicked out of school. It’s not worth ruining my future just because I’m scared some jocks and cheerleaders are going to say mean things to me. They are just words. And I’ll remember to keep my hands to myself.

  Come on, Sadie, this isn’t like you. Go get that jerk.

  My little pep talk works, and I march right up the stone path to the house. I knock loudly on the front door and wait.

  I hear voices inside. There’s so much laughing and yelling it sounds like the entire school is in there. I knock again, louder this time. Still, no one answers the door.

  I grab the knob and turn. It’s unlocked, so I head inside.

  The place is pretty much what I imagined it would be. It’s a beautiful old building that has been turned into a party house. The place is nicely decorated, but the parties have taken their toll on the expensive furniture. There are beer cans and red plastic cups scattered all over. There are people absolutely everywhere, drinking and joking around loudly with their friends. I make my way through the crowded rooms looking for the irritating quarterback who lives here.

  “Where is he?” I mumble.

  “Hey, TP!” someone calls, and I groan. It’s started.

  No one has said anything to me yet, so I was hoping I could just slip in and out unnoticed. Guess that was just wishful thinking.

  I turn around and see one of the Players walking towards me. This is the tattooed one with the light brown hair and sharp cheekbones. What’s his name again?… I know it’s something unusual and has to do with England. Maybe… London? No, that’s not it… Oh! Camden.

  As he walks up to me, I quickly realize he is very drunk.

  “Never thought I’d see you here, TP. Thought you were too good for a lowly frat party.”

  He takes a sip from the red cup in his hand and then smiles lewdly at me with his tongue between his teeth.

  “You look good. Care to let me see what’s under the coat?” He tilts his head to pretend to look up under it.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Not in a million years.”

  His smirk grows wider. “You might be the only girl at Winterford immune to my Player charm.”

  “I’m sure there are other girls with good taste too. I can’t be the only one,” I shoot back.

  His grin gets even wider.

  “So you’d never get with any of the football players? No matter how good looking and popular and quarterbacky they are?”

  “Never. I can’t stand any of you.” And none of them would ever get with me anyway. Camden is just teasing me to amuse himself.

  “Good to know. Good to know,” he says quietly as he walks away.

  “Wait! Do you know where Mace is?” I ask.

  “I think he’s in there.” He points to an open door at the end of the hall.

  “Thanks,” I say and walk towards it.

  Before I reach the door, I hear, “Drink! Drink! Drink!” I walk in and see Mace surrounded by a large group of guys, and he’s shotgunning a beer while the others cheer him on.

  “Are you serious??” I blurt out, but no one notices me.

  Mace finishes the beer, then crushes it and tosses it over his shoulder. I storm up to him as he’s high-fiving some of the guys.

  “Are you serious? You can’t be partying right now. We have to go!” I hiss.

  Mace turns and notices me for the first time. His coal-colored eyes widen slightly for a brief second before he frowns in confusion.

  “Go where?” he asks.

  My mouth drops open in utter exasperation. He has to be the most irritating person on the planet.

  It’s then I realize all the guys are in various states of formal dress, including Mace. He’s wearing a slim-fit navy suit with a dark shirt underneath—which is hanging open, showing off his muscular body—and no shoes. I try to stare him right in the eyes so I don’t have to look at his tanned chest.

  He smirks at me and says, “Don’t get your panties in a knot, TP Princess. We’ll go in a second. We’re just getting ready.”

  “Shotgunning beers is part of getting ready?” I ask sarcastically.

  He looks at me like I’m dumb.

  “Yeah, of course it is. How else are we going to stand hanging out with these boring old people, without being drunk? Just take a seat and we’ll head off soon. You can ride with us.”

  He turns back to his friends, and I look around for a place to sit down. There’s a couch in the corner, but I don’t really want to sit on it. It looks clean—because I’m sure they have cleaning people—but there’s probably all types of bodily fluids on it that I can’t see. This is a frat, after all.

  I stand around uncomfortably and with nothing else to do, I idly look at my surroundings. There’s a king sized bed so I quickly realize we’re in a bedroom. This place is huge. This one room is about the size of my entire apartment, and I share that with two other people, Luna and Jess.

  It quickly becomes obvious Mace and his friends are going to take their time, so with a sigh I sit down on the armrest of the couch. The shoes I’m wearing only have a small heel, but they already hurt my feet.

  I had no idea what I should wear to an event like this because it’s not like I go to these things often—or ever, for that matter. Jess and Luna helped me pick out a dress to wear, but I didn’t have a lot to choose from. I’m wearing the nicest one I own, which is navy colored—just like Mace’s suit. It almost looks like we dressed to match, like we are each other’s dates or something. I can’t help but snort out loud at how ridiculous that would be. Out of all the people in the world, we would be each other’s last choice. I’d rather have food poisoning than go out with him, and I’m sure he feels the same way.

  My dress has short sleeves and is long and flowing at the bottom. I like this one because it’s cinched tight at the waist and low-cut to show off just a bit of cleavage. My boobs are probably one of my best features, so I like being able to bring focus there and away from some other parts of my body.

  I look around and notice the room is tastefully decorated, if a little messy. There is sports memorabilia scattered around and framed NFL posters on the walls. And when Mace finally leaves the group of guys and goes into the walk-in closet, I realize this is his room.

  I feel kind of weird being here, and I don’t know why. How many other girls have been in here? Dozens? Maybe hundreds? I don’t really want to think about it.

  He comes out of the closet wearing expensive leather shoes and doing up the buttons of his shirt. The group of guys shotgun another beer and then we are finally ready to go.

  They all walk out of the room without so much as a glance at me. I’m pretty sure Mace has already forgotten I’m here. With a groan of annoyance, I hurry after them.

  Out in front of the house, there’s now a fleet of black SUVs waiting by the curb. They shine luxuriously in the streetlights, and I join the dozens of guys in expensive suits pouring out of the house and heading towards them. I run over to Mace and grab his sleeve.

  “Ah!” he yells in surprise. “Oh, hey, what are you doing here, TP?”

  I just look at him like he’s lost his mind, before asking, “Which car am I supposed to ride in?”

  “I guess you can ride with me. Come on.” He starts walking again, and I practically have to run to keep up.

  I try to stay with him, but he’s too tall and fast, and I quickly lose him. He slips into one of the cars, but I can’t tell which one because they are all identical.

  I throw my hands up in exasperation. He’s clearly trying to ditch me, and I’m doing a pretty bad job of sticking close to him. But I’m not going to let him win that easily, and I hop into the closest SUV.

  There are already a couple of guys in the car, and they give me a weird look when I get in.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” one of them asks.

  “S
ame place as you,” I say. “I’m with Mace. He said I could ride with you guys to the event.”

  Both of them look at each other in confusion, then back at me. They look at the long black coat wrapped tightly around my body, then at my hair in a ponytail, but they don’t say anything, and I sink back into the smooth leather seat.

  I see the other cars start to leave, and I reach over to shut the door when a blond guy jumps in the car and slams the door shut behind him.

  “Go,” he tells the driver, and we pull away from the curb.

  I recognize the gray eyes and the thick, undercut hair. It’s Holden, one of the Players.

  “Boys,” he says to the two guys, then turns to me. “Hey, Sadie. How are you finding your first Player party? I’m sure you’re loving it.”

  “It’s the highlight of my life, thanks,” I answer.

  Wait, he called me Sadie instead of TP. Why’d he do that?

  “Holden, want a beer?” one of the guys asks.

  “No, I’m good,” Holden says and then pulls out a flask from his breast pocket.

  He takes a long sip and then holds it out to me. He raises his eyebrows in a question.

  “It’s whiskey.”

  “No thanks,” I say.

  He takes another sip before putting it away.

  “So how are you finding working with Mace?” he asks.

  “It’s frustrating as hell. The guy doesn’t listen to anyone or care about anything but himself. Tonight was the second time he stood me up after we both agreed to meet at a certain time and spot. He’s selfish, arrogant and infuriating. And he’s the last person in the world I want to work with.”

  I probably shouldn’t be saying all this to Mace’s best friend, but I can’t help myself. Plus, I’m secretly hoping he’ll tell Mace I said all these things and maybe, just maybe, that’ll get some sense into his thick head.

  I feel like Holden is going to defend his friend, but he just leans back in his seat and smiles, his dimples on full display.

  “You’ve always hated that guy, ever since high school,” Holden says, and his sparkling gray eyes stare into mine. “Can’t say he was ever much a fan of you either.”

  “There’s no way you remember me from high school. Back then I was just Mr. Law’s girlfriend’s loser daughter who came over a couple of times a year.”

  “I remember you. I never forget a pretty face,” he says with a shrug.

  Did Holden Axton just compliment me? He must be really drunk.

  For the next ten minutes, Holden makes small talk with me, and it’s weird. He’s charming and surprisingly intelligent, but I feel like he has a hidden agenda, and I have to be on guard. There’s no way a Player would just want to make pleasant small talk with someone like me. I can feel that he’s cleverly trying to pry, while also hiding his motives at the same time, and I’m relieved when the car finally pulls to a stop.

  I quickly hop out and find myself in the middle of town, standing in front of the old town hall. People are filing inside the building, and I spot the back of Mace’s tall, dark head over the crowd. Ah ha! I found you. I march over to him, making my way around the people in suits and cocktail dresses. You’re not getting away from me that easily, Law.

  9

  Sadie

  I run up to Mace and grab his sleeve again. Instead of being surprised this time, he pretends he’s glad to see me and says, “Oh, there you are! I was worried sick. I thought I’d lost you!” Before adding sarcastically, “I hoped I’d lost you.”

  “Well, too bad for you, and you’re not losing me anytime soon. I’m going to be stuck to you until the dean releases me from this stupid arrangement—or one of us graduates, whichever one comes first.”

  Mace’s face drops in disappointment, and I feel about as welcome as ants at a picnic.

  “Fine. Let’s just get this over with,” he says with a resigned sigh, and we head inside.

  We walk through the hall and into the main lobby which has been converted into a large ballroom. The entire place is decorated floor-to-ceiling in the Mountain Rebels colors of red and white. I can’t help but think it looks a little tacky, but then again I’m not into football so I’m not really the target audience.

  Mace leads us over to the coat check and then stands next to the window, looking around the room. He doesn’t have a coat, so he’s just brought us over here for me. It’s not a big gesture, but it’s still more considerate than I thought he’d be. I hand over my coat and get my ticket before turning back to the bored quarterback leaning casually against the wall.

  We start walking deeper into the room, but the second he finally looks at me, he stops. His eyes sweep up and down my body, first quickly, then slowly.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious that my dress isn’t nice enough for an event like this. All the other women’s dresses look like they cost thousands of dollars, while mine was on sale for fifty.

  I just hope he’ll drop it and move on. I pray he doesn’t cause a scene or embarrass me in front of all these people.

  He keeps looking at me for a long moment with a strange look in his eyes, before finally saying, “You look amazing.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask in surprise.

  I suddenly realize the strange look in his eyes is lust, and my mouth drops open in shock. He’s running his eyes down my neck to my cleavage and lingering there before looking down at my waist and the curve of my hips. He looks like he wants to eat me alive.

  Normally if some guy was looking at me like that I’d be pissed off, but an unexpected warmth blooms in my stomach and rises up to my cheeks. As his dark eyes sweep over my body, it feels like a physical caress. Every part he touches with his gaze heats up. I’m suddenly very aware of how my skin feels against the material of my dress, and the smooth, soft fabric now feels like burlap on my oversensitive skin.

  “It’s the first time I’ve seen you in anything the least bit form-fitting. Who knew that beneath all that attitude and those leather jackets you had hips like that.” His voice is low and gravelly.

  I can hear he’s turned on, and it speaks to a primitive part of me because logically I know Mace is super hot—he just ruins it with his personality and his entitlement. But I’m not blind, and now that I’m really allowing myself to look, I can see his broad shoulders and the shine of his chocolate hair. I can see his strong jaw and how his large biceps fill out the sleeves of his jacket so the fabric is pulled tight across his muscles.

  He leans in slightly, and I can’t help but lean in too. I suddenly realize he smells really good—like, really good. I subconsciously lick my lips and his eyes dart down there like a predator catching sight of its prey.

  He leans in even more and because he’s so tall, and because we are so close together, I have to lean my head back to look up into his chiseled face. He’s the one to lick his lips this time, and I have to take a deep breath to steady myself.

  I suddenly realize why all the girls at school fall for this guy. When he turns his attention fully on you, it feels like there’s no one else in the room. Everything else disappears and all you can focus on is the hot quarterback who is looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off.

  “If you keep dressing like this, then maybe I’d fuck you,” he finally says, and just like that the moment is ruined and the spell is broken.

  I roll my eyes and take a step back.

  “What?” he asks in confusion.

  “Was that supposed to be a compliment or something?”

  “Yeah,” he says defensively. “Do you know how many girls would give up their inheritance just to blow me?”

  I roll my eyes even harder. I turn away from him and start walking again. With every step, I can feel how much he affected me. My traitorous body is still tingling. After a long moment, I hear his footsteps and he quickly catches up.

  The head coach spots us and makes an immediate beeline towards us. I hear Mace groan next to me, and I feel the same way. I don’t really wa
nt to deal with the coach right now. From my very limited interaction with him, he’s not a warm and cuddly man.

  “Nice of you and your group of clowns to finally show up, Law,” he grumbles quietly so the people around us can’t hear.

  “No problem, Coach. Happy to be here.”

  Mace smiles disingenuously, and I can tell it has the intended effect when the hard line of the coach’s mouth grows even harder.

  “Be on your best behavior, Law.”

  “Or what?” Mace asks pointedly.

  The coach glares at him, and I look back and forth between the two of them as a silent battle wages. I’m already uncomfortable when the coach finally looks away from Mace and turns his hard gaze to me.

  “It’s your job to keep him out of trouble, Ms. Edwards. If he does anything inappropriate tonight, it’s on your head. A couple of screw-ups and you’re out of Winterford. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I answer as confidently as I can.

  I don’t want him to know he’s getting to me, so I try to appear calm, but inside it feels like a fist is squeezing my chest. My heart is pounding with anxiety. I can’t get kicked out of school and lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  He gives the two of us one last menacing look before walking away.

  “That guy is such a dick,” Mace grumbles.

  “Yeah, he is,” I agree.

  My voice shakes very slightly, and I hope he doesn’t catch it. I want Mace to think I’m strong. I want him to think I’m someone he can’t mess with, and then maybe he’ll actually take me seriously. The fate of my academic future is in his large, calloused hands. Gulp. I think I’m screwed.

  We begin walking around the room, but we can’t get more than a couple of feet before someone stops us. Everyone wants to talk to Mace Law, star quarterback of the best college football team in America.

  He was right about the type of people who are here. It’s all rich older people who want to feel like a part of the team, and the only way they can do that is by donating money to the school. They all want to go over game plays with Mace and tell him about their own glory days on the field forty years ago.