Redemption (Cambria University #2)

by Sadie T. Williams

  Dr. Winters dismisses us after the test, but not before calling me and my boys out for needing a tutor. She isn’t wrong. I don’t need to wait to know I failed that test hard. Not sure if CliffsNotes are gonna help me if this is the type of shit Dr. Winters is going to ask.

  Thing 1 starts rubbing on me again as Maisy glances back while she packs up too. I had every intention to make my way to where Maisy is sitting and make my introduction, but as I watch her watching me, the chick trying to climb me like a tree is making it hard to escape. Then, without another look, she walks out. I assess her while she leaves. She’s tiny, like at least a foot shorter than I am. A tight, toned little package in cutoff jean shorts. She must work out, because her body is smoking. She can run, but I’ll get to her at some point.

  I feel like chasing Maisy is going to be my new normal for a while. Challenge accepted.

  Chapter 9: Maisy

  September

  I made it through my first few weeks of classes and I’m getting more and more comfortable around campus. Mr. Emerald Eyes has been attending every English Lit class, and he’s tried to approach me a few times, but I’ve successfully skirted away before he can get close. I’ve done a lot of thinking and I need to steer clear of him. He looks like a bad boy, projects an image of a bad boy, and exudes the confidence of a bad boy, which means he’s a bad boy I need to avoid. I need reliable and safe, not hot and dangerous. I’ve done that, with Bates, and I will never do it again.

  While I can make myself fit into various social situations, I’m not very outgoing, so I would never be the one to plop down next to someone and just start chatting. And because of that, I’ve been sitting alone every class, but today, as I take my seat two people slide in next to me. I do a silent Yay! in my head.

  “Hi, I’m Jefferson,” The guy offers his hand and I shake it. “This is Phoenix.” I shake her hand too.

  “I’m Maisy,” I reply.

  Jefferson is clean cut with short auburn hair, brown eyes and a sweet smile. He’s wearing a pink polo and mint green Docker’s shorts. Phoenix has long, golden, naturally tight curly hair. A crown of flowers is woven into a braid that circles her head. She has cerulean blue eyes and pink lips. Her long paisley maxi dress looks like something I could make for myself and I love it. She’s a flower child, and I like her already. She’s West Coast.

  “You’re unique, Maisy. Where are you from?” Phoenix asks me. People so blunt here.

  “California. What about you?”

  “Ohio,” Jefferson replies.

  “Oregon,” says Phoenix.

  “Your skin is beautiful,” she says and leans over Jefferson to pet my cheek. Okay, retracting previous statement. Phoenix is really weird.

  “Jesus, Phoenix, don’t freak her out.” Jefferson shoves her arm away. “Sorry, she doesn’t have many friends for obvious reasons.”

  “No worries.” I smile even though I’m super creeped out. Hopefully she doesn’t try to make me into a lampshade.

  “So, why are you like so hot?” Phoenix blurts out which causes me to laugh nervously. Again, no beating around the bush here. Jefferson just shakes his head, and I feel my cheeks flush when I realize they’re seriously waiting for an answer. In California I was average at best. Here I’m some kind of freak show.

  “My mom was Colombian, so I guess I got my skin tone from her.” I shrug. This is so awkward. I always refer to my mom in the past tense. She is dead to me, so I might as well talk as if she really doesn't walk this Earth anymore.

  “You’re way downplaying your stunning good looks,” Jefferson says as he checks me out. “Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” he tilts his head sideways and asks.

  “Nope. Single,” I state matter-of-factly. Why do I feel like they expected me to be betrothed to some French billionaire who owns an island?

  “That’s interesting. I for sure had you pegged for the goody-two shoes in the long-distance relationship,” Phoenix says in a disappointed tone. “Maybe engaged to a prince who you can’t marry until you turn twenty-one.”

  I snort at her comment. Goody two-shoes? I try to be nice and do things the right way, but I never thought of myself as a prude. I had sex on the beach before I left for college for Pete’s sake. Granted it was only my second time ever, but still. Sex in public isn’t something a good girl would do. And a prince? I’m pretty sure Harry and William are happily married.

  “She reads too many romance novels,” Jefferson offers with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.

  Dr. Winters walks in at that moment. Sometime during Phoenix’s interrogation, Mr. Emerald Eyes walked in and I swear I felt him. I sneak a quick peek. He’s scowling, but when he sees me looking at him he narrows his eyes at me like he is the predator and I’m his prey. He’s intimidating, and a force of nature that calls straight to my core, causing my body to flush with heat. I can feel my lady parts tingle and the feeling is thrilling and new. Brand new.

  At the end of class, Dr. Winters hands back our assessment tests as promised. Mr. Emerald Eyes crumples his up and shoots it into the garbage. He must have failed.

  I aced it. One hundred percent.

  “Class dismissed! Start reading Gatsby for Friday!” Dr. Winters waves at us as we walk out.

  “How did you do?” Jefferson asks as we pack up.

  “A. You?”

  “C plus. I’ll take it. I’m not an English major. I want to be a teacher and upper level lit is a requirement for all us education majors, so I’m just hoping to pass.” He shrugs.

  “I’m an ed major too,” I reply. Maybe he’ll be in more of my classes. I like Jefferson.

  “I got a D. My life is over,” Phoenix wails and flops her upper body over her desk. I’m guessing theater major. I didn’t realize there were so many non-English majors in this class. Dr. Winters is a very popular.

  “Are you an English major? It’s just an assessment. You’ll be okay. Study group will help.” I force a smile. I’m not tutoring her. I don’t have time. I have a full schedule of classes and I got the job at the coffeehouse in town that I wanted. Plus, after the petting session I’m officially creeped out.

  “No, art major. But I can’t fail. I’ll lose my scholarship money and my parents will make me go to a community college and get a stupid degree so I can get a job that actually pays money,” she whines.

  I gather my stuff to leave, still laughing under my breath at Phoenix’s dramatics. When I stand and turn to walk out, I smack face first right into a brick wall. Ouch. Mr. Emerald Eyes is blocking my path, and I ran right into his massive concrete chest. Fuck me, he’s huge, and smells like a little piece of heaven. Swearing internally? This guy really is messing with my mind.

  I glance back at Jefferson and Phoenix. Their mouths are gaping open. They clearly know Mr. Emerald Eyes – maybe not personally, because they sit there frozen just like Millie did with Logan on move-in day. This guy is a big deal and it is just intensifies my fascination with him.

  Chapter 10: Donovan

  I crumple my test and shoot it into the trash.

  “That good?” Finn asks and laughs at my reaction. He tucks his tests in his notebook and slides it into his backpack.

  “As good as I expected without reading a single one of those books. You?”

  “C. You didn’t read The Great Gatsby in high school?”

  “I fucked my way through high school,” I shrug.

  He laughs again, but then shakes his head when he realizes that I’m not joking around. “Seriously? You fucked your teachers?”

  I shrug, non-committal. But yes, I did. Just the two young, hot ones, plus a history sub once. I didn’t go for the grey hairs, and I didn’t actually need to fuck them to pass. I’m not a dumbass.

  “How the fuck are you eligible?”

  “I can pull some grades,” I defend myself. “But Coach is gonna kill me when I fail this midterm and get put on academic suspension.”

  “Maybe the study group will help?” Finn shrugs.

  “
Fuck no. I’m not hanging out with those freaks. Reading literature, drinking coffee, and correcting each other’s interpretation of some stupid fucking ‘epic love story.’ That is a big fuck no.”

  “So it looks like you’re failing at two things. This,” he motions toward the garbage where my test is, “and our bet. I haven’t seen you talk to Maisy once. I can’t wait to see my student loans evaporate.” He makes a poof sound with his mouth and fans his hands through the air like a magician.

  “Fuck off,” I mumble. He’s not wrong. I’ve gotten nowhere and it has been almost a month. We don’t run in the same circles. She hasn’t been to a single party or game and trust me, I’ve been looking. I don’t have her phone number, and I have no fucking clue where she lives. Finn does, but he won’t tell me. She’s like a fucking ghost. A hot ghost I’d like to fuck, but a ghost.

  I need help. With this stupid class and with Maisy. Not that I would ever admit that out loud. I have one more month before the midterm, and until the bet ends. But I can't fail this class. That has to take precedent over the bet. All the private English tutors on this campus are weird. Wool sweaters, Birkenstocks and smell like mildew. No thanks. I glance over at Maisy and I see a giant red “A” on her test. No fucking way. If I can get Maisy to tutor (and fuck) me, maybe I can pass this stupid class and get her on her back in The Office to win this bet at the same time. Two birds, ya know. Blake, you are a fucking genius. I silently applaud myself.

  She usually bolts right after class, but English Fuck 1 and English Fuck 2 are chatting her up as she packs. I make a beeline for her row before it’s too late again. Finn laughs as I move swiftly though the aisle over to her row. He can go fuck himself.

  She doesn’t notice me standing at the end of her row and runs right into my chest as she turns to leave. She bounces backwards as she hits me. It’s comical and cute. Cute? What? Damn, she’s small. Her face is at my chest. I look down and she glances up at me through her thick black lashes, her sapphire eyes moving quickly as she takes me in. Damn. Down boy. Not yet. But those eyes are piercing my entire soul right now. I can practically feel them making my dick hard. She smells like coconut. Like the beach or a vacation.

  “Hey,” I say and flash her a smile. I don’t smile much, but when I do it makes an impression. She looks back to her friends, who are staring at me like I’m the second coming of Jesus. Yes, I’m kind of a big deal around here, and I have an ego to prove it.

  “Hi,” she replies cautiously.

  “I’m Donovan.” I offer my hand. Dumb and Dumber look confused as they continue to stare at me. I’m sure they only know me as Blake. I never use my given name.

  “Maisy,” she replies and places her teeny tiny hand in mine. “This is Jefferson and Phoenix.” She introduces the pair drooling behind her. Don’t care.

  “So, Maisy, love the name by the-” She raises a hand and cuts me off.

  “I gotta go to work. Nice to meet you, Donovan,” she says and places her hand on my chest to nudge me out of the way. I comply because I’m completely caught off guard, and my skin immediately starts to tingle under her touch. She brushes past me and leaves a trail of coconut in the air.

  I watch her leave, then turn to Finn and the boys, who are laughing to the point they can’t breathe. Finn raises his pointer and middle finger and rubs them together against his thumb. As if to say pay up, motherfucker.

  What the fuck should I do now? I stand there while English Fuck 1 and English Fuck 2 continue to stare. Then it hits me. I walk to the front of the room and check out the study group list. I run my finger over the columns until I get to Maisy. Of course there’s only one with a name that unique. Maisy Knight.

  Chapter 11: Maisy

  *Ding*

  My phone wakes me up with a text. It’s still dark out. What time is it? I roll over and grab my phone. It’s 5:30 a.m. and there is a text from an unknown number.

  “You better be at the game today, Owl.”

  Owl? Game today? What the heck is going on?

  “Who is this and why are you texting me so early?”

  “One, I will pretend you didn’t ask that. Two, its game day. I’m always up early on game days.”

  “Seriously, I don’t know this number. Are you sure you have the right one? I’m not Owl.”

  “It’s Donovan. You better save this number because it’s going to be texting you a lot, Owl.”

  He nicknamed me after a bird that eats small rodents and can spin its head around like the Exorcist. Awesome.

  “I’ll get right on that. How did you get my number?”

  “Study group sign-up. Why do you care? I’m inviting you to my game.”

  “That’s an illegal use of my personal info and I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Not til you promise me you’ll be at my game.”

  “What game?”

  “Seriously, do you even go here? The football game.”

  “Didn’t know you played football.”

  “I do and we’re pretty good. You need to be there.”

  I can tell he is getting frustrated with my lack of interest in his social status and his invitation. I’ve avoided the Saturday games and parties successfully until this point, despite the invitations from the baseball team and Millie’s pleas that we go. She has some friends, but they’re mostly art majors like she is and not into sports or frat parties.

  I bet he invites lots of girls to his games then picks one lucky girl for the night and makes her squeal until the morning, when he sends her on her way. Bates is just like that with the ladies in his life too, and Kali and Ruby have each had their encounters with players on the high school football team who operated with a similar M.O. Not something I want to get into. I’m not looking for casual. I’m not looking for anything other than an education.

  “Yeah, not really my thing. But good luck.”

  “I won’t need luck if you’re there, Owl.”

  “Pass. But thanks for the invite. I really want to sleep now. What’s with the Owl thing?”

  “Why are you making this so hard? I don’t usually have to beg, Owl. Just promise me you’ll be there.”

  “What if I promise and don’t show?”

  “I’ll send the marching band to follow you around campus playing nothing by Yanni for the rest of the week.”

  “You don’t have the power to pull that off.”

  “Test me, Owl.”

  His threat makes my stomach flutter and my skin flush. Thank God he can’t see me. I’d like to test him. What the heck? No, no, no. I don’t want bad boy hook-up and heartbreak. I’ve had that. I need to get myself together.

  “Empty threats won’t get you anywhere.”

  “I can promise you, my threats are never empty.”

  Holy crap. My tummy is doing somersaults with the thought of him following through with whatever threat he has in mind.

  “I’ll take my chances.” I push him more.

  “I can be to your front door in 10, but I don’t think you’re ready for this, so I suggest you just show up to the game.” His reply includes a photo of an impeccably sculpted chest with a soaring eagle tattooed all the way across his pecs. Oh, my God. I’m playing a dangerous game that I know I can’t win. He’s right. I’m not ready for him, nor will I ever be. Physically, he is too much for this to ever be a good idea.

  “Fine, but only because I want to go back to sleep and I don’t need a pep band escort all over campus. And I’m bringing my roommate,” I reply without commenting on his photo.

  “You can bring Richard Nixon as long as you’re there.”

  I don’t respond. I pull up my comforter, roll back over and fall back asleep with images of emerald eyes and a flying eagle hovering over my body.

  Just before 11 a.m., my door crashes open and Millie comes flying in.

  “Maisy! Get up!” she shouts and the urgency in her tone has me shooting up in bed.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I need coffee and want to go
into town,” she replies and flops down next to me.

  “Ugh, that isn’t a reason to use your emergency voice. There’s coffee on campus,” I groan and roll over to put my back to her.

  *Ding*

  My phone goes off and Millie grabs it before I get a chance to. We’ve grown very close over the last month. It’s odd. It feels like family. Maybe because I’m desperate for a family and she reminds me of Jo so much. She screams so loud when she reads the screen, I’m sure someone is calling the cops to report a murder in my room.

  “Good grief! What is it now?” I roll back over to face her.

  “Why is Donovan Blake texting you at eleven in the morning on a game day?” I saved his number after our text exchange this morning. I’m weak, okay, I admit it!

  “I don’t know. He asked me to come watch him and his ego play. So?” I say casually and pull a pillow over my face.

  “So? We have an invite from the baseball team to tailgate. And the star linebacker is texting you when he should be warming up for the game. You have no idea what that means, do you?”

  “No, nor do I care.”

  “Oh my God, girl. You’re in for it. We’re going today. No more putting it off. We’ve skipped three games already, and today Blake texts you. We’re going. Get up,” she commands and pulls all of my covers off of my bed.

  “Ugh! Fine! But for the record I’m doing this under duress and you’re buying my coffee today.”

  “I will buy you whatever you want! Let’s go!”

  I have no idea what to wear to a tailgate. I went to one football game in high school. It was awful. Vista del Cielo was garbage and they lost like sixty to zero. I never went to a game at UCLA because I didn’t have time between classes, work, and surfing – well that, and I didn’t care.

  I slip on a black off-the-shoulder boho ballerina romper that I made with some cotton fabric I got from Monét. She gave it to me because she doesn’t wear anything that isn’t as bright as the sun. Her words, not mine. I know the Golden Knights are black and gold, so I figure I can at least dress in one of the school colors and make a note to visit the bookstore for some official gear once I get my first paycheck. I braid my hair in a reverse fishtail and put on a bit of mascara.