Nice Guys Don't Win (A College Sport's Romance)

by Micalea Smeltzer

My jaw drops at the sight of the guy standing there. Sure, I swore off men after Todd, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes, and this guy? He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Tall, way taller than my five-foot-seven frame. His skin is a beautiful brown color, tattoos snaking up an entire arm from wrist to—well, I’m not sure where it ends since he’s wearing a shirt. His curly black hair is cropped close to his scalp. Eyes a unique shade of amber brown—honeyed—stare back at the guy at my side, his full and pouty lips turned down into a frown.

  “What do you want?” He grumbles in a deep voice, glowering at my companion. “Come to deliver worse news?”

  “Actually, I found you a roommate.” Teddy turns to me, sweeping his hands at me like I’m a prize on a game show. “Ta-da.” And then the goofball does jazz hands.

  The guy’s eyes turn to me, elegant brows furrowed together wrinkling his forehead. “You?”

  “Me.” I point to myself, pretending I’m not at all affected by the way those thick lashes flutter against his cheekbones. For months I’ve been mad at all men because of Todd, but apparently all it takes is one exceptionally good-looking guy to make me weak in my knees. “As long as this isn’t a total dump and you’re not a dick.” I straighten my spine, glad that despite my attraction to the stranger in front of me at least I still have my sassy mouth.

  “Who are you?” he asks, looking confused, his gaze flickering between his friend and me. “Did you find her on the side of the road or something?”

  My mouth pops open. “I’m not a prostitute!”

  His eyes widen in horror and he puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. Just this fucker here bails on me last minute as my roommate, and even though he promised to find a replacement he doesn’t have a very good track record for keeping his word.”

  “Hey!” Teddy protests.

  The guy continues on like Teddy didn’t interject. “Forgive me for thinking maybe there’s a catch here.”

  “No catch, I swear. I ran into her when I went to see Mrs. Jostin—”

  “Did you lose your fucking ID already?” He pinches the bridge of his nose.

  “No.” When Teddy finds both of us staring at him in disbelief he gives a sheepish smile. “Yes, okay, I did. But that’s not the point here. The point is, I ran into the lovely Zoey there. Care to fill in the rest?” He prompts me to speak.

  I eye the guy still standing in the doorway. “I’m a transfer and apparently somehow there was a mix up and I never got a dorm assignment. Now they’re saying there aren’t any free beds for me and I’m basically screwed.”

  His eyes turn sympathetic. “Can you cover half the rent?”

  “Depends on what it is?”

  “Eight-hundred for half.”

  I bite my lip, calculating in my head. It’s high, but I can swing it. I’ll have to cut corners in other areas if I like the place.

  “Yeah, I could do that. Can I at least check it out first?”

  He doesn’t answer, merely steps aside and allows entry. Teddy follows me in, muttering to his friend, “See, I told you I’d help.”

  “Shut up,” my possible new roommate grumbles.

  The place is gorgeous, well worth the eight hundred I’d be spending a month. Everything is new, from the floors to fresh paint, and the stone countertops. The kitchen has a decent amount of counter space for an apartment. In the living area, there are French doors opening onto a decent sized balcony. It’s sparsely furnished, but if this guy is so desperate for a roommate then I doubt he has the extra money to spend on things. Plus, he’s a guy, so décor and comfort probably aren’t high on his list.

  I venture down the hall on my own, peeking into a bathroom that’s surprisingly clean—no pee stains on the floor or toilet, which is a total win. I was always grumbling at Todd to either aim correctly or wipe his pee up. He never did either.

  Peeking into the first room I find a bare mattress on the floor with a blanket tossed over it with a pillow that still has an indent from being slept on. Moving on, I open the final door in the hall to an empty bedroom. It’s large, plenty of room for a bed, dresser, and desk.

  I hate to admit it, but running into Teddy might be the best thing that could’ve happened to me. As long as his friend is okay with me living here.

  Walking back out to the main living area, arms crossed over my chest, I stop in front of the two guys who cease conversation.

  “Would you mind having a girl for a roommate?”

  His brow curves upward. “I have four sisters. I’m used to girls. Will you mind having a guy for a roommate?”

  I glance around quickly, trying to ignore Teddy’s giddy puppy dog like expression.

  “Nope, not at all.”

  “Welcome home then. I’m Cole.” He holds out a hand for me to shake.

  “Zoey.”

  “Oh, guys.” Teddy wraps an arm around each of us, pulling us into the most awkward group hug ever. “We’re going to be the best of friends.”

  3

  Cole

  “More boxes?” I open the door, incredulous by the number of boxes outside. Most with IKEA on the outside of them, but a few others from Target and Amazon.

  “I’m sorry,” Zoey says sheepishly, appearing behind me. I didn’t even know she was anywhere near or I would’ve kept my mouth shut. It’s not my business what she orders. “They’re from my dad,” she explains, and I feel a smidge bad for assuming she had some extreme online buying addiction. “We don’t have the best relationship.” I can tell it pains her to admit this, not because she’s butthurt over a strained relationship but because it doesn’t take a genius to see that Zoey is tight-lipped about her life. In the three days since she moved in, I haven’t learned much about her except that her last name is Reynolds and she’s addicted to some real estate reality show on Netflix. “Anyway,” she nervously tucks a piece of curly brown hair behind her ear, “I guess he’s trying to make up for things by showering me with unnecessary furniture items that I have to figure out how to put together.” She winces. “Wow, that sounds ungrateful.”

  “Nah, I get it.”

  “You have a crappy parent too?”

  I think of my mom and dad, two of my favorite people in the entire world. How they always made sure to make my sisters and I a priority and never let outsiders’ whispers about our family get us down. Not that it was always easy growing up biracial—especially with my mom black and my dad white. Interracial relationships are still frowned upon by a lot of people, but at least for me I noticed that white women with black men seemed to be far more accepted than my parents were and that … that fucking sucked, because I knew how in love they are. The kind of sickly-sweet love that most people never find. I’m not sure I’ll even be lucky enough to have it.

  “No, my parents are great.” I start carrying her boxes inside. “But I’ve had friends who haven’t had it as good, so I know how it is.”

  “Oh.” She picks up a box herself, and dammit if my eyes don’t stray to her pert round ass filling out a pair of pink cotton shorts.

  Zoey’s got long legs, honey brown skin, and the prettiest curls I’ve ever seen. Her dark brown eyes are kind, but there’s a hint of something there that tells me she’s been through some shit. She’s beautiful, the kind of beautiful that steals your breath, but she’s my roommate and I definitely shouldn’t be checking her out. Especially since I swore off women after everything that happened last year.

  I met Rory and really liked her, thought we had a connection, but it turned out it was my best friend Mascen who got her in the end. He and Rory grew up together, which I hadn’t known, and apparently lost their way. Looking at them now, I know they’re perfect together and Rory and I never stood a chance, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. I need to focus on basketball this year and figuring out what comes next.

  Zoey and I make quick work of getting the boxes in and she sits down with a box cutter to get started on them.

  “I can help you
put stuff together,” I offer.

  She looks up, already shaking her head. “It’s okay. I’ll figure it out myself.”

  I bend down, joining her on the floor. “I have no doubt you can, but it’ll go faster with the two of us.”

  Her lips thin and I know she’s hesitant to accept my help, but after a moment she gives a tiny jerk of her head. I don’t let her think twice about it.

  After a few minutes of silence, she turns some music on her phone.

  “Dan and Shay?” I ask in surprise.

  She glances over at me, setting a white board meant to be a shelf in a bookcase aside. “Yeah, you have something against country?”

  “Not at all.” My lips twitch. I love country, but it’s not something I really talk about, not when most of my friends and teammates are obsessed with rap or anything raunchy. If they found out I actually enjoy new country I’d never hear the end of it. “What do you want me to build first?”

  Zoey pauses, a piece of carboard clasped in her hands. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  “Zoey.” I’m not about to have this argument again. “If it makes you feel better you can help me put my bed together whenever I get one.”

  She cracks a smile. “Deal. I guess we’ll start with the desk.”

  She already has a bed and brand-new mattress. It seems like her dad is trying extra hard to make amends. But maybe he’d be better off actually talking to his daughter instead of dumping an insane amount of furniture into her lap.

  Not that I’m complaining about our new flat-screen TV or the couch that is large enough to comfortably fit my six-foot-six frame. It’s way better than the secondhand one I’d been eyeing at a local thrift store.

  An hour later, with the desk and chair put together, Zoey sits back, tucking her legs beneath her. She gathers her curls up, tying them with some sort of coiled elastic. “Are you sure you’re okay with me living here?” she asks, hesitancy on her face.

  I snort, shaking my head as I pick up the directions for the bookcase. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure. You’re saving my ass. I figured I’d be kicked out the first month when I couldn’t make the rent on my own.”

  “Sure, but I mean, you probably would’ve preferred one of your friends.” I eye her and she lowers her gaze, not wanting me to see the insecurity there. I can tell Zoey is the kind of girl who can hold her own, who doesn’t take bullshit from anyone, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be hurt, and I have a feeling she’s got her demons just like I have mine.

  “You’re just fine. Honestly, better than a smelly ass dude.”

  She cracks a smile. “I’ll add that to my resumé.” I flip through the instructions and she gives a laugh. “I thought all men tossed the directions and decided to wing it.”

  I pause, stretching out my legs. “Not this guy. If you want something done right, you don’t half-ass it.”

  Standing, she smooths her hands down the front of her shirt. I quickly divert my eyes, not wanting to be caught checking her out. I want Zoey to feel comfortable here, she doesn’t need me leering at her.

  “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

  “A root beer.”

  She cracks a tiny, almost secretive smile and walks out of her bedroom. Returning less than a minute later, she holds out an IBC with the cap already removed. I don’t know what it is about root beer, but it’s always been my favorite. I keep a stash on hand for not only drinking but making floats as well. Sure, I have to watch what I eat because I have to stay in shape but that doesn’t mean I don’t allow myself to indulge now and then.

  Zoey sits back down, crossing her legs. She undoes the cap from a Fiji water and spins the cap around her fingers. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “We haven’t talked about much since I moved in, but do you think we should set some ground rules?”

  “Like what?” I set my root beer down and start assembling the shelf.

  “I don’t know. Not stealing each other’s shampoo or food or something.” She picks at the carpet, not meeting my eyes.

  “Well, for starters I don’t think we have to worry about the shampoo thing.” I rub my scalp. “Something tells me we use very different kinds.” A flush warms her cheeks. “And food, I’m not the kind of guy who gets butthurt over that kind of thing, but I’ll stay out of yours. Promise.”

  Her white teeth nibble on her full bottom lip and I know she’s thinking deeply about something. Finally, she says, “What about visitors?”

  “Like friends? Shit, I don’t care if your friends come over.”

  “No.” She fidgets some more, tugging on the top of her socks. “I mean, will you be having girls over?” Her gaze goes to the wall, refusing to meet my amused stare. “Like, I can’t tell you not to, but maybe give me a heads up so I can wear headphones or leave for the library or—”

  “You don’t have to worry about me with girls.”

  “Are you gay?” She immediately slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that was wrong of me to ask.”

  “No, not gay, just … swearing off women for the foreseeable future.” She gives me a questioning look. “There was a girl I liked last year but turned out she liked my best friend more.”

  She flinches. “Harsh. Sounds familiar.” And from the sympathetic look she gives me, I know she’s been there, but she doesn’t offer more than that.

  “It’s not like anyone cheated. Rory and I weren’t together, but that shit hurts. It’s my senior year. I want to focus on my grades and whatever it is that comes next.” There’s a knock out front and I arch a brow. “Are you expecting someone?”

  She looks puzzled, shaking her head. “No.” She stands and groans. “It better not be my dad. I’m not in the mood.”

  She marches out front and I stay where I’m at, wanting to get this bookcase together and call it a day.

  “Wow, look at you.” I glance up to find Teddy standing in the doorway to Zoey’s room, holding a bucket of KFC chicken and a drumstick in hand. He tears into the chicken leg like a savage. Around a mouthful, he says, “It’s only been a few days and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Zoey pushes past him, but not before she stands on her tiptoes and smacks the back of his head.

  “Hey! What was that for?”

  “For running your mouth. I didn’t ask him to do anything. He offered.”

  Teddy’s green eyes narrow on me. “Shit, stop being so chivalrous and making me look bad.”

  I snicker. “Don’t worry, Teddy. You make yourself look bad all on your own.”

  Teddy tips his head back, sniffing haughtily on purpose. “Fine, no chicken for you or you.” He gives us each a look before turning with his bucket of fried meat and walking away. I don’t hear the door, but the TV does come on a second later, so I know he’s not going anywhere.

  Zoey sits down on the end of her bed, resting her hands on her bare knees. “Your friend is weird.”

  I snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  “It’s good to have friends like that. Ones that really care.” There’s a lost look in her chocolate brown eyes, but I don’t ask her to elaborate. We’re barely acquaintances and it’s none of my business. Standing, she says, “I’m going to go ask Teddy if he’ll share his stick.”

  I know she’s joking, and only talking about goddamn chicken, but something in my chest squeezes at the idea of her asking Teddy for anything. Before she can leave, I yell out, “Teddy, get your ass in here and bring the fucking chicken!”

  Teddy shuffles down the hall, and I swear to God if he leaves shoe stains on the carpet, I’ll make him pay for them to get cleaned. “Oh, so now you want my chicken.”

  “Zoey does.”

  Teddy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t share my chicken with just anyone. We’re bonded for life.”

  “Uh, on second thought maybe I don’t want any.”

  “Come on, you
know you do.” He holds the bucket out in her direction. “Take one. Join the club. On Wednesday’s we wear pink.”

  I roll my eyes. “Will you ever stop quoting Mean Girls?”

  Zoey, presses her lips together, fighting laughter as her head bounces between the two of us.

  “Um, no. Tina Fey is a literary genius who deserves our undying love and gratitude for such a masterpiece. Now take some chicken.” He shakes the bucket. “And remember, I’m not a regular mom. I’m a cool mom.”

  4

  Zoey

  It was guilt that made me agree to my dad’s invitation to dinner tonight. Classes begin tomorrow and I’d much rather be in bed with a coloring book and markers trying to calm my nerves over starting my junior year at a different college. But when he asked if I’d be willing to come over for dinner, I felt like it’d be rude to say no.

  That’s how I’ve found myself parked outside on the street of a massive house—no, mansion—tapping my fingers nervously against my steering wheel while Taylor Swift hypes me up in the background.

  The house is beautiful, with a circular driveway and beautiful stone front. The front door is one of the largest I’ve ever seen, with intricate ironwork around the glass.

  It’s definitely out of the budget for your typical college basketball coach—but my dad isn’t typical. He spent nearly five years in the NBA before a career-ending injury took him out.

  If I’m honest with myself, he’s part of the reason I want to be a physical therapist. To help athletes and others who’ve been hurt and need help, and maybe prevent someone from walking away from their family like he did.

  All because he didn’t want to face the reality that he couldn’t play anymore and apparently my mom and I weren’t a good enough reason to move on.

  They met when they were in high school, and dated through college, where my mom got pregnant with me their sophomore year and they decided to get married and make it work.

  It’s too bad ‘making it work’ was only temporary.