SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One

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SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One Page 14

by Readnour, Kimberly


  “Meet me after you shower. I’m taking you and Shannon out for supper.”

  I nod, glad I can stop wondering when he’ll show. I’m not looking forward to the inevitable interrogation. “I won’t be long.”

  When I arrive at my locker, the pressures of the day spills into rage when I see the team’s latest prank.

  “Seriously guys? This is getting old.” I rip the paper featuring another Hamburglar with a giant heart in lieu of a hamburger off my locker door. And look there, they Photoshopped him holding a box of Viagra. Laughter erupts from my anger. I really need to do a better job at playing this shit off. They’d stop if I quit letting them get the upper hand, but their pranks are getting ridiculous. Mel G. has written two more blogs since my article ran. And yes, I read them and got pissed all over again. Not one single person featured in those articles disclosed anything remotely embarrassing. The content was factual and boring, nothing personal.

  I haven’t seen Alan again to hound him about the infamous Mel G.’s identity. I’ve been too wrapped up with Shannon to care. But I’m pretty sure everyone but these assholes have forgotten about my article by now. I crumple the paper in my hand and toss it in the wastebasket.

  “Grow the fuck up,” I yell to the guys in the room.

  “Ah, come on, Smith. These types of problems are common,” some asshole says.

  I don’t even justify that remark with a response.

  “Let it go, guys. You all need to move on. Quick draw is old news,” Noah’s attempt at helping falls short. I now suspect him over Garret. Nah, that’s impossible. It has to be Garret. “Let’s talk about real stuff. Like the keggar Saturday night.”

  I groan internally. I’m in no mood for a party, but I’m not going to be the Debbie Downer of the group. No way.

  “Yeah, it’s my birthday, bitches!” Garret whoops as he opens his locker door. He doesn’t stick around the weekends too often to party, so it won’t be me pissing in his bowl of Cheerios. Not when he turns twenty-one.

  “Is Smith going to have two dates that night?”

  I curse under my breath from their taunts and stalk toward the shower. I’ll let the hot water work away the tension in my shoulders and drown out these idiots.

  When I come back from the shower, another damn picture is hanging. I feel as if I’m living an episode of Lethal Weapon 4 where Murtaugh’s supposed best friend, Riggs, keeps hanging up the photo that makes fun of him. Huh. I rub my chin for a moment and turn to glare at Noah waiting by my locker. Eh, surely not. This prank has Garret’s name written all over it.

  “What’s going on with you?” Noah asks.

  “They won’t let this article shit go.” I swing my locker door open, and he steps to my side. “It’s getting way past old.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him and grab my shirt from the locker. I don’t think I like where this conversation is heading. I feign innocence with a simple, “Yeah?”

  His lips purse for a moment as he studies me. Another beat passes before he lets out a sigh. “You going to make me say it?”

  “I guess.” I drop my head and stretch my shirt on over my head.

  He lets out a frustrated grunt. “What happened out there today?”

  “Hey, that freshman slid into me hard. I was jumping over him when I threw the ball.”

  “Fine. I’ll give you that one, but what about the entire practice?”

  “Who are you, my dad? I’ve already had the lecture from him.”

  He recoils from the harshness in my tone and takes a calming breath. I immediately regret my words. Noah and I don’t argue too often, so I know he’s pissed. This year means as much to him as it does to me.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick, but you’re the captain. If the other teammates see you slacking, what do you think will happen?”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll get back into shape. I took too long of a break, that’s all.”

  “You haven’t been yourself since the beginning of school. I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

  “You now the keeper of my psyche?”

  “Asshole,” he mutters. “Just get your head out of your ass. I want to win this year. It may be my only shot.” With those words that cut deeper than he realizes, he exits.

  I lace my shoes as the rest of the guys start filing from the showers. Noah’s right. If I don’t get my shit together, we’re in for one rough ride.

  Chapter Twenty

  CARA

  Cessna’s Football Team in Trouble?

  Rumor has it, the football team has fallen three games behind, but they’re not scared. Star quarterback Kyle Grady reassures that everything is okay.

  Will the football team go down with the worst record in school history, or will they right the ship and bring home another championship?

  Till next rumor.

  Mel G.

  Rumor Has It, CU’s newest gossip column.

  I swear to God, I’m staring at the devil himself. That is, if the devil’s horns come in the shape of horn-rimmed glasses and the red-faced, pitchfork-dwelling imp is disguised as a college editor. There is no way a sane individual with a tenth of decency in them would make this request.

  “Absolutely not. I won’t write anything personal again, especially when it comes to Braxton.” I clench my teeth so tightly I’m surprised a tooth doesn’t chip. I inhale and count to three, trying to hold it together. I honestly think prison would be better than dealing with this—what did Braxton call him? Oh, spineless fuck.

  “But your debut article had more flare. What you’re writing now isn’t getting the hits like previously.”

  I stare at him, my jaw ticking. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I’m not going to print lies. “We agreed not to get personal.”

  “But you’ve lost your readership, so I suggest going back to what worked.”

  He cannot be serious, can he? I start looking around the room for cameras because, no doubt, I’m being punked. But the only people left at the office during this hour are Alan and me.

  “I can write more player-focused articles, but I refuse to write anything embarrassing.”

  “What I’d like is another article on Braxton but dig up something juicier this time. You can go to a practice and observe or befriend him. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to grab his attention. The last segment was great, but if the next one had more truth, it would undoubtedly boost our numbers. Deliver it within the next few weeks.”

  My stomach churns as a bitter taste forms in the back of my throat. Of course, it wouldn’t be hard to befriend him. Not only have I kissed him, but I have class with him and room with his sister. I continue to stare at Alan. Does he know that? I don’t see how unless he hacked into the computer system. But the thing is, not only is this assignment ethically wrong, it’s against a guy that’s growing on me. The more we talk, the more I like him. I may not want to, but I do. There’s no way I can spy on him.

  “No, I won’t do it.”

  “You don’t have a say.” He dismisses me by looking down at this laptop and typing. I don’t think so, buddy. You’re not discarding me that easily.

  “I most certainly do have a say. I won’t write any more articles on Braxton. He’s off-limits. You saw how pissed he was.”

  A smile crosses his lips. No, it’s more of a menacing smirk. They certainly don’t like each other—that was noticeable the last time Braxton was here—but Alan must hate him more than I realized.

  “Which is exactly the type of response I want. Now, go fetch me that story.”

  “I won’t do it. There’s no way. The fire article caused a conspiracy theory and landed me in the dean’s office.”

  “But look at the hits it got. Even with the rumors, it still didn’t get as many hits as Braxton’s piece. This football piece is the lowest one yet.”

  “I won’t do it.” I feel the blood drain from my face as dull, gray eyes stare
at me. He’s absolutely serious.

  “Let me put it to you this way. You fail to deliver, and I will make sure you get a failing grade.”

  “You can’t do that.” Sweat beads across my forehead, and I resist the urge to dab at it. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing how nervous he makes me.

  “Oh, I think I can. But just in case you think I’m bluffing, here’s another trinket. If you want to keep your identity safe, I’d suggest going along with me.”

  I don’t know what he means. Is he threatening to expose Mel G. or my brother’s identity? Either scenario isn’t an option. “You can’t threaten me.”

  “Oh, I already have. Who are you going to tell? Your adviser? That’s almost laughable. The dean? He’d reprimand me, sure, but he wouldn’t do anything important. Look how he handled the fire situation. I’m only asking you to do your job.” He shrugs. “But I guarantee, I’d let the information slip…accidentally, of course. And you know as much as I do, it only takes one person finding out before the entire campus knows.”

  Braxton’s right. Alan is a spineless fuck. But the spineless fuck has deep seated ball threats.

  “Are we clear, Ms. Gonzalez?”

  “Yes,” I manage to choke out before pushing to my feet. The chair almost tips backward from my abruptness, but I have to get out of here before I lose it. This man is awful. Pure evil. Not only does he hate me, but he hates Braxton, too. I had wondered what Braxton did to him, but it may be nothing. Braxton may be as innocent as me, considering I never did one wrongful thing to this man but exist.

  I need out of this mess, and right now, the only solution is dropping the class. The last thing I need on my transcript is another mark, but after last fall semester’s fiasco, I can’t afford a hit to my grade point average. If only I didn’t get so wrapped up in Drake, I wouldn’t have let my grades slip.

  The warm air does nothing to settle my stomach when I exit the building. I’m almost thankful for the long walk to my adviser’s office. I need to calm down. My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and I almost cry out in relief when AJ’s name shines across the screen. Oh, how I need to hear a familiar voice.

  “Yo, big brother,” I answer with as much cheerfulness as I can muster. Sometimes, I wonder if he has a programmable beacon built inside him. He always knows when to call.

  “Hey, sis. Are you busy?”

  “Nope, I’m just heading to my adviser’s office. What’s up?”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to go over stuff for next semester,” I lie.

  “I was wanting to ask about Thanksgiving. I’m wanting to take Mom on a trip to Hawaii and wanted to see if you’d be up for it.”

  “Hawaii? Well, that came out of nowhere.”

  “I know, but you know how hard it is to get Mom to go anywhere. She won’t leave during Christmas.”

  “Oh, I know. Believe me. I just don’t know if I can miss that much school. We only have a few days off. Was Mia up for it?” My mind scrambles to see what future assignments look like, but I come up blank at the moment.

  “Surprisingly, yes. But she doesn’t have labs like you.”

  “True. How soon do you need to know?”

  “Today?”

  “AJ!” I yell into the phone. “That doesn’t give me much time to work it out.”

  “I know but I’m sorry. I need to book the flights. I already have the reservations set.”

  “Let me guess, Mom and I in one room and you and Mia in another?”

  “It’s the Grand Hyatt hotel.” His incentive isn’t working.

  “I’ll pass.” Mom and I have been better since our last talk, but I’m not spending a week with her confined in a room. No way.

  He sighs. “I thought things were better. She said you had a good conversation after the fire.”

  So, they’ve been talking about me. I’m not surprised. “We did, but let’s face it. It’s going to take more than one conversation to right this ship.”

  “Suppose you’re right. But there’s more.” He takes a deep breath. A clear sign I won’t like his next words. “Mia’s brother is coming.”

  My legs quit moving. He cannot be serious. “There isn’t any way I’m spending a vacation with that man. What are you thinking?”

  “You know Mom will want you to be there. And so do I.”

  “AJ don’t do this to me. I understand he’s Mia’s brother, but come on. I can’t do it. Besides, I have a lot of work.”

  “Fine, but let me know by tonight if you change your mind.”

  “I will.”

  “How’s everything else going?”

  For a brief moment, I contemplate telling AJ about Alan’s request. One call from my brother is all it’d take to set Alan straight. It’s tempting, but he always comes to my defense. I can’t have him keep fighting my battles. “Everything’s fine. Grades are good.” Until Alan marks a low score for not completing the assignment or I drop the class.

  “That’s good. Anyone giving you a hard time or asking for tickets or anything?”

  “Nope. My identity is safe.” For now.

  “Excellent.”

  My phone vibrates with an incoming text from Lexie. She’s supposed to meet me at the dorm for our Tuesday study date. I pick up my pace. I need to hurry; otherwise, I won’t have time to meet my adviser. “How’s the team’s morale? Still thinking playoffs?”

  “Hell, yeah. We just need to win this next stretch to secure the top wild card spot.”

  “It may come down between you and the Giants. Too bad I’m not vested in that rivalry.”

  “Can’t shake the Philly girl out of you, can I?”

  “Never!”

  A deep voice calls AJ’s name in the background. “I have to go. But get back to me tonight if you change your mind about going.”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” I reach the hall’s front entrance and an overwhelming amount of emotions hits me. I blink to stave off the impending tears. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. See you when I see you.”

  We hang up, and I suck in a breath of courage. Brothers. He does everything in his power to protect me, but I’d do the same for him. It’s what siblings do. We talk smack about each other, but don’t allow others the same privilege. My stomach rolls. If I fulfill Alan’s request, I betray not only Braxton but his biggest protector—my roommate, Shannon. I don’t know how I get myself into these situations.

  * * *

  It turns out dropping the course isn’t as cut and dry as I had hoped. The time crunch from not picking a minor until my junior year came back to bite me in the ass. I don’t have enough time to squeeze in any more classes. I’m already carrying anywhere from seventeen to nineteen credit hours until I graduate. Plus, I’ll have to find time to study for the Graduate Records Examination—I have to nail that test—and find time for an internship somewhere in there.

  It comes down to two choices: drop the class and lose my chances at going to veterinary school or suck it up and hope whatever I write isn’t too damaging to Braxton. Without that minor to beef up my transcript, the possibility exists of not being accepted to any veterinarian college let alone a college of choice. Hell, the probability of getting into a shady international veterinarian college is nil. I really have no other choice but to stay in the class.

  I glance over at Lexie. She sits cross-legged on my bed, eating popcorn and staring at her phone as if it holds the secrets to the universe. Now that Shannon occupies the other half of my room, my bed became her makeshift desk during our weekday study dates.

  “Sweet, we’ve got our plans for Saturday night,” Lexie says.

  “Do I dare ask?”

  “How would you like to go to your first party?” She beams as her gaze ping-pongs between Shannon and me. My roommate’s squeal drowns out my groan.

  “Where’s it at?” Shannon’s bubbly personality shines through each syllable as Lexie’s smile wavers and sinks my already low expect
ations. I have a feeling I won’t like the answer despite the sudden flutters in my stomach.

  “Um, jock housing.”

  “The football players?” The hopeful rise in Shannon’s voice is telling. She doesn’t want the party to be held at her brother’s place either.

  Lexie shifts her weight. “Uh, not exactly.”

  “Please don’t tell me it’s at Braxton’s house.” I can’t survive an entire evening with the guy. Not again. I’ll cave for sure. I’ve been strong during class; the environment is structured and sterile. In a casual setting, I’m not sure I could hold out. I turn to Shannon. “No offense.”

  “One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on between you and my brother. Don’t get me wrong, I totally love the fact you’re not rah-rah over him, but there’s a story there.”

  Deny. Deny. Deny.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about other than the guy drives me crazy.” I feign a look of indifference and ignore the guilt spiraling through me. I like Shannon. She seems genuinely cool, but I’m not ready to disclose my past to her, nor am I ready to admit Rumor Has It is my baby. I can’t believe Alan wants me to feature Braxton in another article.

  Swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, I turn back to Lexie. “Spill. Where’s the party?”

  “It’s Garret’s birthday.” The corners of Lexie’s mouth lift higher, transforming her face into a half-pleading-slash-half-persuading ball of wrinkles. She looks ridiculous, but her sad attempt to sway me almost works. I have to turn my head to keep from laughing. When my gaze lands on the blue walls next to Shannon’s bed, all happiness dies. Buttery popcorn may drown out the lingering fresh paint smell, but nothing erases the string of photos hanging in plain sight. Yep, I get to stare at Braxton’s face every time I’m in my room. His boyish grin greets me the moment I walk into the room, and as much as I try not to look, he’s the last thing I see before going to bed. Go me.

 

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