Breaking Tessa: A College Sport Romance

by T Christensen

  She shut off the car, wiping her hands on her jeans and closing her mouth before tackling the next big obstacle. The large, black double doors loomed in front of her. Tessa wasn’t sure if the knocker was ornamental, or if she was supposed to use it. Maybe she should use her knuckles to knock, but there was also what she assumed was a doorbell beside the door.

  She pushed her car door open and winced at the creaking that disturbed the tranquility around her. Hoping no one had heard it, Tessa made her way to the door and decided to use the bell. She wasn’t convinced the knocker would be heard throughout the enormous property.

  After pushing the doorbell, Tessa gripped her backpack strap. She couldn’t decide if she wanted someone to hurry and answer the door or for no one to answer so she could leave.

  When the door opened, she felt like as much of a jalopy as her car. Both she and the woman standing in front of her were wearing jeans and a shirt, but that’s where the similarities ended.

  Tessa had on an old, worn-out but comfortable pair of straight-cut—who knew what brand—jeans. Her white tennis shoes were ragged and dirty but thankfully didn’t have holes in them. The black t-shirt with the Old Navy logo she had on was neither fashionable nor formfitting. Before getting into her car she had thrown her hair up into a messy bun.

  The woman in front of her exuded class. She had on light-blue skinny jeans with slightly frayed ends. Her Gucci shoes were a pristine white. A crisp long-sleeved black button-down was smartly tucked into the front of her jeans. The sleeves were rolled up a couple of times, and Tessa spied a diamond tennis bracelet on her dainty wrist. Her low, sleek ponytail of chestnut-brown hair with honey-blonde highlights gleamed.

  Her greeting was hesitant but not cold. “Can I help you?”

  Tessa swallowed so her throat had some lubrication. “I’m here to see Jordan.”

  The woman gave her a swift perusal and then with evident confusion asked, “Jordan?”

  “I’m his tutor.”

  The confusion cleared from her face. “Ah. I’m Christina Davis, Jordan’s mom.”

  Of course she was. “Hi. Tessa Parker.”

  “Jordan lives in the pool house. He didn’t want to live too close to his mom and dad, but I’m sure you feel the same way.”

  Tessa thought about her mom’s bedroom, right across the hall. She gripped her strap harder and with a tight smile said, “Yeah.”

  She looked around and didn’t see another house. “Can you tell me where the pool house is?”

  Mrs. Davis laughed. “Sorry, dear. Just walk down the path closest to the garage, and it will lead you there.”

  Speaking of cars, Tessa took a deep breath and asked what she hoped wasn’t a stupid question. “Is it okay to leave my car there, or did you want me to move it?”

  She wanted to crawl into a ball when Mrs. Davis looked over her shoulder at her car and her eyebrows rose. A bland expression quickly covered her surprise. “It’s fine there, Tessa. No one will disturb it.”

  Tessa laughed internally. That certainly hadn’t been a worry. Sometimes she wished someone would disturb it, but then she and Lindy wouldn’t have a car. “Thank you, Mrs. Davis.”

  As directed, Tessa walked down by the four-stall garage and estimated by its depth that it could probably hold at least eight cars. The stone path she followed was a walking paradise. The sights and sounds of summer were all around her. Hidden water ran, birds chirped, and lush green plants with pops of color appeared everywhere.

  The path broadened ahead, and Tessa could see the pool, which looked like a piece of art. Sculptures and waterfalls abounded. The furniture surrounding the pool was nicer than what was in her apartment. She itched to sink into the cushions of the circular sectional surrounding an outdoor fireplace.

  The pool house looked like a mini version of the house. It was still big, just not huge. At least it had a standard door, one she wasn’t intimidated by. She raised her hand and knocked.

  After hearing a muffled come in, Tessa took a lingering look at the outdoor setting's tranquility and stepped into the pool house. She stopped breathing and widened her eyes at the sight that greeted her.

  A shirtless Jordan was in the kitchen with his back to her. Somewhere in her frazzled brain Tessa knew she should blink, but holy hotness, her whole body buzzed. She longed to touch Jordan’s smooth, tanned skin. Tessa locked her knees to stop from moving toward him while she tried to regulate her racing heart. All he was doing was wrestling with a pizza box, but it showcased every muscle in his back. Her eyes greedily traced his broad shoulders and down to his tapered waist, not spying an extra ounce of skin to pinch.

  She sucked in a breath when he turned around. Chest hair was speckled between his pecs, and she moved her gaze down to his prominent hip bones. The counter he was standing behind interrupted the view, but it didn’t bother her. Instead, she traced the six-pack on his abs. Tessa hadn’t thought bodies like his existed in real life.

  Eventually she realized Jordan was standing there holding a piece of pizza while wearing a shit-eating grin. It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had gotten thrown on her. Tessa hurriedly bent down and made a production of untying her shoes and setting them neatly by the door.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Do what?” Tessa asked the floor while picking her laces up and putting them in her shoes.

  “Take your shoes off.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  Tessa braced to look at Jordan and made sure she looked only at his face. “I don’t want to get the floor or your furniture dirty.”

  Jordan shrugged and mumbled around the pizza he was chewing. “I have a housekeeper.”

  Of course he did. She looked around and was relieved she had taken off her shoes. Everything was white, with some gray in the kitchen. She was tempted to check her butt to make sure nothing was on it but decided that would create questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “Want some pizza?”

  The box on the counter was already missing half of it, and it looked like Jordan was still going strong. She didn’t want to eat his supper. She would eat when she got home. “No, thanks.”

  Tessa wanted to get the tutoring done as soon as possible. Then this uncomfortable, out- of-her-depth feeling wedged in her gut would leave. She took a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

  “Is your laptop around? I can read one of your writing prompts while you finish.”

  With his mouth full of pizza, Jordan gestured with his head toward the family room and talked through the pizza. “It’s in there. I’ll bring the pizza, and we can work there.”

  “No!” They both froze at her unexpected outburst. Jordan looked at her like she had lost her mind, which apparently, she had. The denial had come from years of eating only at the table.

  The couch in their apartment was always covered so their feet wouldn’t get it dirty. The moms’ voices were in her head. This couch was so expensive that we need to keep it for eternity, so this is an extra layer of protection. The only time the cover came off was when they had visitors, which wasn’t very often. Come to think of it, Tessa had a hard time remembering what the actual couch looked like. All that came to mind was the fitted tan cover that seemed like a permanent attachment.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled and turned toward the couch to cover up her red cheeks.

  Jordan picked up the pizza box and followed her. “What was that about?”

  Tessa flinched as Jordan carelessly plopped the greasy box down on the coffee table.

  “Now you’re cringing. What’s up?”

  “Sorry,” Tessa repeated and then reluctantly expanded. “It’s a conditioned response. At our apartment we always eat at the table so we don’t get the furniture dirty. My mom would have a heart attack if she saw a pizza box in the family room.”

  Jordan sat down on the couch and held up a piece of pizza over the couch cushion. “So,” he teased, “if I do this, would it make you
nervous?”

  Tessa laughed and shook her head. “Your place, your rules. It’s just scary to think that I’m already turning into my mom.”

  She spotted Jordan’s laptop on an oversized chair and walked over to it. Putting it on the ottoman that obviously went with the chair, Tessa followed his directions to find his writing prompt.

  One evening, as your character's getting ready for bed, they notice a webcam attached to their home computer, filming them. Your character does not own a webcam.

  Oooh, this was good. Thoughts of possible scenes flooded Tessa’s mind, but she forced them away to concentrate on what Jordan had written. When Tessa got done, her head hurt. She felt like she had just read a technical manual on webcams.

  Tessa looked up. Jordan was done eating, and all of his attention was focused on her. His eyes were glued to her face with an intensity that made Tessa internally squirm. She resisted the urge to lift her hand to tuck stray hair behind her ears or swipe her face to make sure there wasn’t anything on it. Instead, Tessa bit the inside of her lip and tried to think of a tactful way to give Jordan her feedback. She started slowly.

  “There’s a lot of good detail here.”

  Jordan’s posture didn’t change as he stated, “You didn’t like it.”

  “I think you took the prompt in a different direction than I would have.”

  Jordan threw his head back and let out a full belly laugh. All she could do was stare. It made him look like a mischievous toddler, especially with those dimples.

  “Oh, Tessa, you’re too diplomatic. Just tell it like it is. I already know I need help.”

  He was right, but she had never been good at this part. “Well, I’m pretty sure the professor wanted it to be a fictional piece. When I read yours, I felt like it was an instruction manual.”

  Jordan’s eyebrows came together. “It is fiction. The character dismantled the camera, called the police to dust for fingerprints, and then tried to figure out who was receiving the webcam feed.”

  He was genuinely puzzled by her reaction. “Jordan, you spent a page explaining how to dismantle the camera and then another whole page on how to trace the feed.”

  “Yeah, those were important parts.”

  “But how did you feel when you saw the camera? What thoughts were running through your head? Who do you think it was? Were you mad? Was it at night or in the morning?” Tessa took a breath and got to the meat of it. “As a reader, I don’t want a page explanation on how you dismantled it. I only need to know that you did.”

  The crease between Jordan’s eyes increased, and she bit back a smile. Now he looked like a disgruntled toddler. “You mean, talk about my feelings.”

  It was Tessa’s turn to laugh. Jordan scowled at her. “Are you laughing at me?”

  Tessa nodded vigorously. “Yes. You act like I just asked you to declare your undying love for me.”

  “I’m not good at talking about feelings.”

  “I’m asking your character to talk about feelings. Sheez, Jordan, all you have to do is make something up. It’s fiction—you can’t get it wrong!”

  “Fine.” He grabbed the laptop from the ottoman and threw himself back on the couch, muttering, “Less technical, more feeling.”

  Tessa allowed herself one more smile while watching Jordan focus on his screen. It was like he was searching for nuclear weapon launch codes. She grabbed her book on classroom management and immersed herself in it.

  The elementary school she was going to student teach at was the school she had attended. Tessa knew from experience it would be tough going and she would need all of the information she could get. She recalled the times a substitute had ventured in. More than one had left the classroom in tears.

  “Classroom Management. Teaching?”

  Tessa looked up from her reading. “Yes. Elementary Education.” A half hour had gone by. “Ready for me to take a look?”

  The crease between his eyes returned. “Yes,” he grumbled as he passed her his laptop.

  It was definitely better. She kneeled on the floor where Jordan sat to point out areas to improve. When he was steadily working again, Tessa decided it was time to go. She slowly got to her feet and gave her tingly legs a chance to recover from sitting on them.

  “Are you okay?” Jordan asked.

  “I’m fine. When I first got up, it felt like I was eighty. You’re headed in the right direction, Jordan. I’m going to take off.” Tessa smiled and walked over to gather her stuff off the floor.

  “You didn’t have to sit on the floor, Tessa.” His gruff voice threw her.

  “I know. It just happened.” When his glower didn’t disappear, she tried again. “It’s not a big deal, Jordan. I’m twenty. I think I can handle it.”

  She walked to the door, and she could feel a little of her body’s tautness leave with each step. “Just text me when you want to meet again.”

  “Wait up. I’ll walk you.”

  “No.” That came out more forcefully than she had intended. Tessa continued in a more relaxed tone while putting her shoes on. “You’re almost done. Finish. I can walk myself to my car.”

  Before he could argue, Tessa opened the door and walked out. When the fresh air and sun hit her, she felt like she had just been released from prison. She could finally let her guard down. Tessa strolled toward her car, enjoying her surroundings.

  The setting sun framed the beauty all around her. She didn’t see much nature where she lived in the middle of the city. The buildings obscured the sunset, throwing everything into ominous shadows.

  Tossing her bag on the passenger seat, Tessa was relieved that she was done. Although, it hadn’t been as tense and awkward as she’d thought it would be. She still didn’t want to come back to this opulence. It made her uncomfortable. Tessa didn’t know the rules of the wealthy, and she felt out of place.

  __________________

  Chapter 8

  __________________

  Knowing her comfort zone was only a half hour away, Tessa turned the key. Nothing happened. She tried again. A clicking sound cut through the stillness. “No, no, no! Please not here!” She frantically tried again, but nothing happened.

  Swallowing her frustrated tears, Tessa reached for her phone. After blinking to clear her eyes, she found a place to come give her a tow. She sunk down in her seat and got comfortable for her thirty-minute wait.

  “Tessa? What are you doing?”

  She jumped at Jordan’s voice and groaned internally. Reluctantly, she opened her door and got out. Forcing a smile, Tessa told him, “My car wouldn’t start, so I’m waiting for a tow truck.”

  “Why didn’t you come get me?”

  Tessa shrugged. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  Jordan drilled her with his stare. “You could have waited in the pool house.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to see when the tow truck came.”

  Tessa held her breath while Jordan stared at her. At last, he relented and gestured to the main house.

  “Come to the house and wait.”

  Yeah, no. That was the last place she wanted to be. “Oh, that’s not necessary, but thanks. I’m fine here. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  Tessa fidgeted as she warily watched Jordan stride toward her, taking her hand and turning toward the front door.

  “You are not waiting out by the curb.”

  Tessa jumped when the big black door closing behind her echoed in the cavernous foyer. She eagerly took in the luxurious surroundings. All of the colors in the house were varying degrees of tan. The warmer colors were more welcoming than the pool house's sterile white, but it still felt overwhelming and intimidating.

  The shiny, spotless floor created a dilemma for her. If Tessa took off her shoes, her sweaty, sockless feet would leave marks. If she didn’t, there would be a trail of dirt. While she was debating the correct etiquette, her stomach rumbled. Tessa crossed her arms in front of it while praying Jordan hadn’t heard, but his concerned sta
re told her otherwise.

  “When was the last time you ate?” His stiff posture and tone made it clear he was troubled.

  “Lunch.”

  Jordan studied her and in the same suspicious tone asked, “What did you have?”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to answer him.

  “Tessa. What. Did. You. Have?” Jordan was clearly getting impatient.

  “An apple. I was going to grab something before I came here, but I was running behind.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you have any pizza?” His hands were on his hips as he glared at her.

  “It was yours. You had just finished practice. I could tell you were hungry.”

  His answer was to stare at her incredulously. He ran an agitated hand through his hair and demanded, “Follow me.”

  Once again, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him. Tessa struggled to keep up with a ticked off Jordan. He kept ahold of her hand until they were at a huge center island surrounded by stools. Jordan pulled one out and looked at her pointedly. As soon as she sat, he strode to the refrigerator.

  “Do you like lasagna?”

  “Jordan, I should be waiting for the tow truck.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “They can knock. Do you like lasagna?”

  From his expression, Tessa knew she wasn’t going anywhere until she ate. She didn’t know why he was so determined, but it seemed ridiculous to keep arguing. “Yes.”

  She watched while Jordan heated the lasagna in the microwave and then got two plates and glasses. “Are you eating again?”

  “It’s a snack,” Jordan informed her as he carried the lasagna to the counter.

  Tessa glanced at the clock. “It’s only been an hour and a half since you last ate.”

  “Coach is working us hard. Suicides and then free throws at the end of practice.”

  Tessa shuddered, remembering Jordan’s description of suicides. Without another word, she picked up her fork and dug into the steaming lasagna.