I walk out into our living room and wait for Millie. She comes out in a pair of black and gold pinstripe overalls and a black CU Football cotton t-shirt underneath. Her hair is curled and a glittery gold headband shines through her curls. I’m guessing most people will be dressed like her today. The only CU thing I own is a hoodie I bought my first day here, but it’s way too hot to wear that today. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.
Millie is staring at me.
“What?” I cock my head sideways. “I know this isn’t game day attire. I’ll get some when I get paid.”
“You’re so beautiful you look photoshopped.”
I laugh and brush off her compliment. “I love the overalls. I need to get some of those.”
“Yeah, by next game we will have you game day prepped. I bought these freshman year, but none of my friends ever want to go to the games.”
“Well, today that changes.” I smile. “You ready? You owe me a coffee before the game.”
We get to the tailgate lot around noon, coffee in hand. It’s packed, and I take in the football stadium hovering in the background. I’ve driven past several stadiums and event centers in L.A. This one rivals those – it’s massive. There are thousands of people walking around, high fiving, drinking, full of excitement and anticipation for the game. I kind of like the vibe they have going here. This is my first real tailgate experience.
The baseball team has a spot in the Pi Kappa tailgate lot, and Finn said to look for the black and gold custom Golden Knights Baseball tailgate tent, which is basically a canopy with no walls.
The boys have quite the setup. We step inside the tent, where a stereo is blasting the latest hits, two grills are sizzling, and a long white table is setup with condiments, chips, and baked beans in a crockpot. College baseball players own a crockpot? I’m impressed. On the other side of the tent are five large coolers full of beer and a table set up as a Bloody Mary bar.
We walk over to say hi to the guys I know. Logan, Finn, Stoner, and Gomez look to be in a debate of some kind, with some swift-moving hand gestures and scowling faces. There are a lot of girls here. Some are very pretty. They look very athletic and they are dressed like Millie, with the pinstripe overalls. There are also some other girls who look very womanly, for lack of a better word. The redhead who was clawing at Donovan during class is there with a bunch of girls wearing gold sequin mini-dresses and black high-heeled pumps. I hope it doesn’t get too hot, or the makeup on their faces is going to melt. I’m guessing those are the girls that Donovan usually hangs out with.
“Maisy!” Finn shouts as he sees us approach. “You finally showed up! It only took a month.”
“Very funny. Hey guys,” I acknowledge him and the rest of the boys I know. “This is my roommate, Millie.”
“Hey, Millie,” Finn smiles politely. “You probably know most of these guys – Stoner, Logan, Gomez, Sims, Rickert, and Todd.” He points to them all as he goes down the line.
“Hi.” She smiles sheepishly. She is tense. She’s talked a big game for the last month and now that we’re here she is nervous around these “popular guys.” I roll my eyes. They’re just regular dudes, Millie. She should see Bates. She’d faint.
“What is this?” a petite blond in one of the gold mini-dresses asks Finn as she gestures toward me and Millie.
“Shut up, Brynn.” Logan rolls his eyes. “They’re friends of ours. Don’t you have an STD to spread somewhere?” Millie lets out a small gasp and Brynn rolls her eyes as she turns on her heel and saunters away.
“I’m just making friends all over the place at this new school.” I force out a laugh and pretend I’m joking, when in reality I’m frustrated. Millie is my only friend so far, and I’ve been here over a month. Not that I’ve put in a ton of effort. I’ve avoided tailgating and parties in favor or homework and work. I need to just let go and be a college student for a while.
Logan throws his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s get you a drink.”
“Um, I don’t drink, but Millie wants one.” I will not compromise my principles just because I’m tailgating with some athletes and desperately want to fit in. I will not be that girl. I can hang without drinking, just like I did in Cali. It will just take a minute for these guys to realize I’m fun regardless of my beverage choices.
The boys all stare at me, and then their eyes flash from one to the other. I’m not sure what they’re thinking. A weird smile spreads over Finn’s face as he looks to Logan. My dad always taught me how to read a room and the people in it. It was part of his “job,” and why he was so good at being the chameleon. There’s something not quite right about their reaction, but I’m not sure what to make of this yet.
“So you don’t drink today, or like ever?” Logan looks at me quizzically with a slight tilt of his head.
“Ever.”
They start laughing.
“What?” I ask, slightly annoyed. “I don’t need to drink to hang, do I?”
“No, not all. We want you here regardless. You’re in a different class from all these girls here, Maisy. I love it.” Logan smiles. “Let’s get you a water.”
There’s more to it than that and I’ll figure it out eventually.
After about thirty minutes of chanting about the team, slamming beer bongs, and dancing, Finn shouts “Let’s roll!” and swings his pointer finger in the air in a small tornado. That means it’s time to head into the stadium apparently.
Logan throws his arm over my shoulder again, much to the dismay of Brynn, who looks like someone told her dog just died. “You’re sitting with us, Maisy.” Oh goody, Brynn will be so excited. I smile at her as we walk by, and she just glares at me.
The Fortress is colossal. It was big from a distance, but it’s downright overwhelming up close. It looks like the coliseum in Rome, but a medieval version with gray stone and ivy. The baseball team’s seats are in the student section, front row and close to the end zone. There’s a large tunnel to our right that the team uses to enter and exit the field.
When we get to our seats, the team is on the field warming up. They’re wearing all-black uniforms with Golden Knights written across the chest in gold letters. Their helmets are matte black with a shiny Golden Knight logo on each side. I instinctively search for Donovan, but I don’t even know what his number is, and they all look the same in their uniforms with their helmets on. Cambria doesn’t put their last names on their home jerseys – I guess we’re supposed to know our own players.
I do remember someone saying that he’s a linebacker, which means almost nothing to me, but do I know he’s on defense. I’m watching the guys warm up and there are a bunch hitting some human-shaped dummies attached to a metal frame. I’m guessing he’s in that group. They’re hitting those things so hard I can hear the metal scraping over the music. It looks like it hurts. After one group takes their turn, the rest of the guys all yell and head-butt the guys who just went, and then the next group steps up… wash, rinse, repeat.
The stadium is rocking and we’re dancing along with the rest of the students around us. Millie was right – this is actually really fun. Suddenly, the team starts to jog off the field.
I’m confused. I know that wasn’t the game, but why are they leaving? I turn my back to the field to ask Finn, “Where are they going?”
“They go into the locker room for a pep talk from the coach before the game actually starts.” He laughs like I should have known.
“I didn’t know they left once they came out to warm up, and now I’m mortified.” I hide my face in my hands. I’m already some kind of freak to these people and this can’t help my situation.
“Seriously, Maisy, it’s adorable. Don’t worry about it.” Finn grabs my hands and pulls my hands from face. “We love you regardless of how much you know about football. Ask me anything you want. Happy to answer your questions.”
I’d love to ask him what number Donovan is, or what the heck a linebacker is, but I don’t think he’d like that very muc
h. So I stick to the basics, “Okay, can we start with scoring? Touchdowns and punts, right?”
“Not exactly,” he chuckles. “A touchdown is worth six points, and then the kicker will kick an extra point for one more point. That makes a touchdown worth seven in most cases. A kicker can also kick a field goal if the team doesn’t score a touchdown. Those are worth three.”
As he’s explaining it to me, I feel something swat me on the back. I turn and look down from my front row seat. Donovan is standing below me, his helmet in his hand, hair wet and slicked back while beads of sweat drip from his forehead. Jaw meet floor.
I run my eyes down his body, starting at his emerald eyes, which are piercingly green through the black stuff that’s smeared down his cheeks. Up close I can see flecks of gold in his irises. His football uniform is suctioned to his body and his muscles are protruding with every movement. His jersey cuts down his body, from his broad shoulders to a narrow waist. The perfect male V-shape, and I can’t help my mind from imagining what his abs look like underneath that jersey. His lower abs are just slightly showing between the end of his jersey and the start of his very tight pants, and his calf muscles are flexed and look downright sexy in his socks. Calves are sexy? Yes, my God, yes they are. On him. He really does look like an Adonis, and I can feel my insides start to heat up and my core flutter and tighten.
Millie’s mouth is agape, and there was an audible gasp from everyone around us. I’m kicking myself for not researching football more before today because again, reading the room tells me that this is an anomaly.
“Good to see you made it.” He smirks, and half his mouth turns up at the corner. As if there was a doubt. He knew I’d be here. His cockiness snaps me out of my wet daydream.
“Well, I had a tailgate invite I couldn’t turn down.” I smile and nod backwards toward Finn and the boys. His eyes narrow and his nostrils flare at my comment. Oh, hey there jealousy. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something to get ready for this game?” I ask and point toward his teammates who continue to jog into the tunnel.
“Yeah, getting you in the proper gear for one,” he quips as he hands me a gold jersey. “Wear it.”
“What is it?”
“Why do you always ask so many questions?” he asks and glances around nervously. That definitely tells me that this is not normal game-day behavior.
“Why do you always tell me what to do?” I retort.
“I tell everyone what to do, Owl. It’s part of my charm.” He smiles, bright and wide. An audible moan can be heard from the girls around me. “This is one of my other jerseys. Wear it for the game.” He pauses. “Please.”
“Well since you asked nicely.” I smile and inspect it. It has Cambria written in black script across the front and “BLAKE” across the back with the number 54. I slip the jersey over my head and it hangs down to my knees. It looks like a dress.
“Looks good, Owl.” He flashes a brilliant smile again and runs into the tunnel.
I turn to look at Millie and her expression is one of pure shock. I glance around, and the rest of our friends are staring at me in the same way.
“What the hell is happening?” Millie asks and puts her hands on her cheeks in shock.
“I realize I’m new to all of this, but someone just needs to explain to me why you’re all staring at me,” I ask uneasily.
“Well,” Logan starts and glances over at Finn as if he shouldn’t say anything.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to freak out, but Blake could get suspended for giving you that jersey. That’s a game-day CU football jersey. Players only.”
“Lots of people have jerseys on,” I reply as I look around. He has to be messing with me, right? That can’t be true. Why would he risk suspension for something so insignificant as making sure I have proper game-day attire?
“Yeah, those are replicas. Ones they bought from the team store or online. Those aren’t the jerseys of actual players. Trust me, all CU athletes have the same rule regarding jerseys,” Finn adds. He would know I guess. He is a Cambria athlete.
I feel my face flush. I don’t want to get Donovan trouble, but what can I do now? He wants me to wear it, and risked suspension for me to do so, well then, I’ll wear it with pride. It smells like laundry detergent with a hint of sweat. Even his sweat smells divine.
“Um, plus, I’m pretty sure there’s a huge target on your back now,” Sims adds and nods towards some girls in sequin mini-dresses that are scowling at me. “Those are jersey chasers.”
“Jersey chasers?”
“Yeah, they fuck anything in a jersey, and Blake is a big target. He’s one of the baddest dudes on this campus, and the ladies love him for it. They’re constantly trying to wiggle their way into his jersey,” Sims concludes.
“And most succeed,” Stoner adds. So, Donovan has more in common with Bates than I thought.
“Just be careful,” Finn pipes up with a warning. “Blake is known for two things. Hitting hard and fucking harder. He’s not a relationship guy, so unless you want to be just another notch on his bedpost, I would tread lightly around him.”
“And he has so many notches on his bedpost it’s practically a toothpick at this point,” Gomez chuckles.
Fantastic. The one guy who has shown any interest in me is a badass man-whore. Figures. I’m the new girl and he just wants to get at the new piece on campus. Not this time, buddy. I make a promise to myself that I’m not going to fall for his charm, his dazzling smile, or overall rebel image, as appealing as it is.
Chapter 12: Donovan
Game day is my favorite day. Today is also the day I start working harder on the bet. I need to get Maisy to the game. Most girls can’t resist me once they see my ass in my football pants, or when they feel the vibes of the stadium and see the celebrity status that my boys and I hold on this campus.
It’s early and I can’t sleep. I hop in the shower to jerk off. I need a little stress relief. I haven’t fucked anyone since the Sydney thing blew up because I've been too busy scheming about how to get Maisy’s attention. My usual spank bank is blank, and images of Maisy are the only thing in head. I picture her piercing blue eyes staring at me while I pump inside of her. With that image seared into my mind I come all over my hand. Damn it. She’s invaded my brain.
After I dry off, I throw on my travel suit, which consists of black joggers, a black quarter-zip sweatshirt, and a white Golden Knights football dri-fit t-shirt. We’ll head out for breakfast at seven, then hit the training room and finally head out to the stadium for warm-ups. I can’t stop thinking about Maisy’s sapphire eyes.
I stretch for a minute and grab my phone to text Maisy to tell her to come to the game. I want her there. I’ve never had to pursue a girl very long before – a few minutes at a party or after class. Then they’re usually naked in The Office or the Pi Kappa bathroom before I can say “let’s go.”
“You better be at the game today, Owl.”
Owl? That came out of fucking nowhere. I was too quick on the send trigger before I realized what I’d done. That nickname is on special reserve in the Blake house. I shouldn’t have done that, but it's too late now.
Maybe she really will be an owl? Stop it, you pussy. Don’t think that way. This is a bet. Only a bet. Get your head on straight. She won’t be your anything once she learns about the bet anyway.
After a series of very infuriating text messages, I think she’s on board. Christ, she is frustrating. That was both painful and exhilarating. I’ve never had to practically beg someone to come to a football game. Come to think of it, I’ve never even asked a girl to come to a football game. I’m actually kind of digging that she doesn’t give a shit about my status on this campus. However, that attitude is going to make it harder to win this bet. If she was into everything the rest of the jersey chasers were into, then this would be a lot easier. I need to stay focused. What can I do to get her attention?
I drive my truck to the field every game day with my roo
mmates. Rhodes and I sit up front and Jax and Bateman ride in the truck bed, like a scene from Varsity Blues. I pull through the wrought-iron gates and pass under the stone arch. The road is lined with fans chanting “Golden Knights! Golden Knights!” I park near the athletic complex that houses our training facility.
The RAC, or Recreational and Athletic Center, is an athlete’s wet dream. We have an 8,000-square-foot weight room, multiple gymnasiums, racquetball courts, three dance studios, two pools, and our training room.
Inside, there’s room for fifty athletes to be treated at a time by our certified athletic training staff. We have dozens of trainers and interns to keep us healthy. As a player who does a lot of hitting on and off the field, I get banged up pretty good. The trainers piece me back together with various treatments for bruises, pulled muscles, busted knuckles, sprains and concussions. I try my best to protect my head though. Bruises and broken bones will heal. Concussions leave permanent damage.
Greg is one of our head trainers. I hop up on a table and he walks over to assess me. “How you feeling, Blake?”
“Pretty good. Nothing to complain about today. Just need to get taped up.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way this season, yeah? Kristin will be over in a minute to tape you up,” he says, pats me on the back, and walks off to the next player. Last season I had a few injuries that required some rehab. I broke my collarbone in the national championship game and had an ankle injury that I’m still working through. Good thing I have a high pain tolerance.
I lay back on the table and evaluate my plan for getting Maisy’s attention. If I get caught, Coach Hayes will murder me and send my ashes back to my parents (nanny actually) with a note that reads “your son is a fucking moron who deserved this.” That’s not true, but I’ll get suspended from the team, which means I’ll miss part of my senior season. Is a bet worth it? Yup. Okay, then, my dumb ass is going to go through with this.
Redemption (Cambria University #2) Page 8
