by Jacob Chance
SCORE
BOSTON TERRIERS #6
JACOB CHANCE
Copyright © 2019 Jacob Chance
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by PopKitty Designs
Edited by Shauna Stevenson
Proofreading by Hawkeyes Proofing
This book contains mature content.
“Do your job”
Bill Belichick
Contents
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
PENALTY
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
PERRI
Mid-September
Walking into the dean’s office is never fun, not even when it’s your father occupying that position.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Perri, honey, you’re late. I almost gave up on you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I got sidetracked by one of my professors.”
“Everything okay? You’re not slacking off are you?” he teases. He knows me better than that. Not to mention classes only began a week ago.
“Ha ha, Dad. It was nothing crucial. She wanted to talk to me about my topic of choice for a paper I have to write.”
“Before we head out, I need to speak to Mary for a minute,” he says, referring to his secretary. “Sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
“No problemo.” I don’t mind waiting. Dad and I don’t get to spend much time together anymore. When I was a freshman and staying in a dorm, I would head home whenever I could to do laundry and eat a decent meal. But now, as a junior, this is my second year of renting an apartment off campus and I don’t make it home very often. When my dad asked me to lunch I couldn’t refuse. It will give us an opportunity to catch up and I’ll get a great meal. Bonus.
Leaning forward to pull my phone from my pocket, a picture on his desk catches my eye. I pluck the color image from where it lies, my phone forgotten, and study the head shot closer. A mop of brown hair carelessly falls across his forehead. Sparkling blue eyes framed by darker brows stare up at me. Damn, those eyes. A tingle runs the length of my spine resulting in a shiver. Even in a photograph they have the power to physically move me.
My gaze skims down, noting an angular nose with a slight bump at the bridge lessening his pretty boy looks. Continuing on, I take in his masculine lips and straight white teeth. His reserved smile gives the impression he’s not comfortable having his picture taken. Wide shoulders take up the bottom of the image and make me curious about which sport he plays.
Altogether, he’s gorgeous, but if he’s a jock like I suspect he is, he’s off limits to me. One of the rules my dad laid out when I decided to attend Boston University was that I had to agree to stay away from the athletes. He works closely with them and he didn’t want any conflicts of interest.
Of course I agreed because there are thousands of other guys on campus. How was I to know that most of the ones I was attracted to would be jocks?
So engrossed in studying the face in front of me, I don’t hear my father until he speaks.
“Nolan Archer, our new running back.” He nods to the image in my hand. “This kid is something else. He played for Pierre Prep in Vermont. He’s going to have a big impact on the Terriers.”
Nodding nonchalantly, I toss the picture onto the top of his desk as if I have no interest at all.
“He’s off limits too.” He raises a black brow at me. My feigned carefree attitude didn’t fool him one bit.
“Aren’t they all, Dad?”
“They are. I want to make sure you know there are no exceptions. Please don’t complicate my job for me. I’m not saying no guys, just none of the ones I bring to Boston University.”
“I know. I’ve been following the rules since I started here. Why would I change that now?” My parents expect so little from me and they’ve always celebrated all of my accomplishments. I’m so fortunate to have them. As archaic and annoying as my father’s rule seems, it’s really not a huge deal in the big picture. After all he’s done for me the last twenty-one years, it’s not much to ask of me.
I watch as he stacks his papers neatly, Nolan’s picture on top, before placing them back down.
“You ready to get out of here?”
“Hell yeah. Where are you taking me?”
“I found a little Italian place last week. I was telling your mother about it.”
Rising from the chair, I twist from side to side. “These chairs suck. Is that on purpose? That way no one stays in here too long? Or are they there to punish the trouble makers?”
“I’ve never sat in one. And they came with my office. But now I’m keeping them for sure,” he laughs, shrugging his sport coat on. He walks to the door and I follow along slowly. I peer over my shoulder for one final glimpse of Nolan’s handsome face. He’s definitely someone I’d be interested in. For the first time I’m cursing the agreement with my dad.
Chapter One
Nolan
“Guys, I know you’re tired. I’m fucking dragging,” Owen, our quarterback, pants as we head to the sidelines for some water. “We need to hang in there. I know for a fact Coach isn’t going to let us go until we get our shit together.” He squirts water from his bottle into his mouth.
Trevor, our tight end, nods and wipes the sweat with his forearm before it can fall in his eyes. “Owen’s right. We have to grind it out. One play at a time. Everyone stay on task. We can make up for it tonight with some pizza and beers.”
Picking up my own bottle, I swallow a handful of small sips and swish some around in my mouth before spitting it out.
Heat, exercise, and too much water don’t go well together. I learned the hard way my first week at practice when I guzzled down a full bottle. I violently threw up ten minutes later and now I know that frequent hydration in small amounts is what works best for me.
Coach’s shrill whistle tears through the air making me grimace. My entire body aches and I’m not sure how I’ll make it through the rest of this practice. But I know somehow I will. I’m not a quitter and I never will be. Digging deep and finding the last shred of will is what I do best. Especially in high pressure situations. This practice is training for such moments. If you’ve never had to push through fatigue so horrible you feel like you might die, then you won’t know you can when the time comes. And playing college football, I know that time will come.
We line up and Owen yells out the count just prior to the ball getting snapped to him. He quickly hands it off to me. I run three steps and shift to the right, avoiding a tackle. I blast a handful more out and see a defender coming for me in my periphery. Giving everything I have, I pound out the remaining yardage and cross into the end zone. Thank fuck I made it.
“Way to go, rookie.” Flynn, our wide receiver, thumps me on the back. I’m so fatigued I can barely move my legs as we head back toward our cheering teammates.
“Good job, Archer,” Coach praises, surprising me. Coach isn’t one to dole out compliments. “Let’s run that play one more time. I want you to stay with your assignments longer. If Nolan wasn’t so fleet of foot he would’ve been tackled.”
I’m still sucking wind from the last play when we line up. One more time. You got this.
Owen shouts the count, catches the snap, and hands it to me as I run by. Move. Turning up my speed, I run right up the middle and into the end zone.
The guys shout and hoot their praise and I spike the ball into the ground. I’m glad that play went so well.
“Much better.” Coach claps his hands. “See what happens when you stay with your assignments? Nolan wasn’t even touched.” He blows his whistle. “See you tomorrow afternoon, fellas. Rest up. You’re in for another tough one.” He grins as if he’s relishing the thought of running our asses ragged.
“When aren’t our practices tough?” Flynn mutters as we pick up our water bottles and towels.
“At least tomorrow is supposed to be a cooler day. This humidity is fucking killer. We’re in the third week of September, things are supposed to be cooling off,” Owen chimes in.
Trevor pulls his helmet off and pushes his sweat slicked hair back. “Where are the beers and pizza happening?”
“How about the frat? Then Clancy and some of the other guys will be there too,” Flynn reasons.
Owen gives him a thumbs up. “Sounds good. We’ll be over around six. I can’t wait to eat any longer than that.”
“I’ve never looked forward to a cold shower as much as I am right now,” I groan.
“Dude, don’t do it,” Trevor cautions. “It will make your muscles tighten up more. At least make it warm.”
“Thanks. I didn’t realize that.”
Trevor smiles. “No worries, rookie. You’re going to learn all kinds of new things playing for the Terriers.”
His words have me grinning. That’s been my hope for as long as I can remember. I’m ready to soak all the knowledge and advice up like a dry sponge. I don’t plan on wasting this opportunity.
“Yo,” Trevor calls out as he and Owen walk into the frat like they own the place, although, neither of them live here. Both are balancing a thick stack of pizza boxes in their arms as they head straight for the back of the house.
Most of the guys are already hanging out on the deck in anticipation of the pizza arriving. I’ve been lying on the couch resting my legs. I consider them part of my equipment and they need to be taken care of as such. Running backs are known to have knee injuries and that’s always in the back of my mind. I’m only nineteen now, so hopefully I can make it through all four years of college without sustaining any injuries.
The kitchen looks like a pizza bomb went off in here. Empty boxes are cast aside and others are flipped open. Damn, these guys are human vacuums.
Grabbing a paper plate, I add a few slices before stepping onto the deck. I slip into the only open seat at the table.
“Good practice today, Nolan,” Owen congratulates. “We’ll need your speed for our game on Saturday.”
“Don’t worry. I plan on bringing it.”
Trevor holds his fist out for me to bump. “You showed us all that you’re no pussy. I know I’m relieved. When I learned we were getting a pretty boy from some Vermont prep school I was a little concerned.”
“Fuck you. I’m not a pretty boy.”
Trevor studies my face. “Yeah, you kinda are. You’ve got that hair.” He swirls his hand over his head.
“What does ‘that hair’ mean?”
“It looks like you blow dry it or something,” he explains with a half shrug of his shoulders.
“I don’t own a blow dryer and I don’t do anything to my hair. I comb it when I get out of the shower and this is how it ends up.”
“You don’t do anything to get that little swoopy thing in the front?” Trevor seems skeptical.
“What swoopy thing?” Reaching up I rake back the longer strands. I catch an amused look between Trevor and Owen and thrust my middle finger up at them. “Fuck you guys.” Everyone laughs.
“Clancy really does blow dry his hair.” Owen reveals with a smug grin.
“Only in the winter when it’s freezing out and I don’t want to catch pneumonia.” He points to his shoulder length locks. “This takes a long ass time to air dry.”
“You know, this is the first hair discussion I’ve ever had. I guess that pussy prep school wasn’t too bad.”
“Hey, hey now. We’ve gone easy on you so far, but that can change if we’re provoked,” Trevor warns with a mischievous light in his eyes. I can’t imagine the hazing methods these guys could come up with if the university hadn’t been cracking down on such practices. I’m glad I haven’t been subjected to it.
Saturdays are always my favorite day of the week, especially when we win our game. And now we’re celebrating at C’s, the pub we frequent the most. Owen raises a shot of whiskey. “Here’s to many more wins this season. To winning.”
We all shout “to winning,” and clink our glasses together. I down my shot and lick the whiskey from my lips. Glancing around the bar, my eyes pause on long black hair framing a gorgeous face. Dark eyes stare back at me as red lips suck her drink through a tiny straw. Goddamn, she’s a sight.
“Nolan.” Flynn tears my attention from the live goddess. “How’s it feel to be in the big city after being stuck in Vermont at an all male prep school?”
“It’s awesome. I feel like I just got out of jail after being locked up for four years.”
“It’s gotta be a culture shock for you,” Owen offers. “Not just the area, but having so many hot girls around all the time.” My thoughts immediately return to the dark haired vision.
“It is, somewhat. I’ve been to cities before, guys. I’ve just never lived in one. You know Vermont isn’t far from here.” These guys are acting like it’s the other side of the world.
“It might as well be the other end of the world,” Flynn laughs, validating my assumption. “Back to the no girls thing. You went to school with all dudes?”
“Yep, I did.” I flag the bartender down and point to my empty shot glass.
Flynn snaps his fingers in front of my face to gain my attention. “How did you get laid?”
Oh shit. I guess I knew this was coming sooner or later. I chuckle and tuck my chin before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t.”
“What?” Multiple people call out and my face heats with embarrassment. Fuck. Why did I answer honestly? I should’ve lied or evaded answering altogether.
Owen clasps his hand on my shoulder. “Dude, have you remedied that since you’ve been here?”
I slowly tick
my head from side to side, dreading the rest of this conversation. “Nope, not yet.”
“What are you waiting for?” he continues.
“I don’t know. I’m not good at talking to girls.” Again, I think of the beauty across the bar who caught my attention. If I wasn’t so awkward, I’d have strolled over to her and introduced myself.
Flynn steps forward handing me the shot I ordered. “Dude, you’re the starting running back for the Terriers. That alone will get you laid. You barely need to speak. Just smile and tip your head toward the bedroom and someone will come running,” he quips.
I shrug half heartedly. I’m tired of this discussion and it isn’t the first time I’ve had it. My prep school friends and younger brother always seem to make my lack of sex life a topic of conversation. It’s something that’s pointless to lie about, but that doesn’t mean I’m open to talking about it.
Knocking back my shot, I slam the glass on the bar. Should I order another one or should I head back to the house? Leaning back on the bar I let my gaze roam around, searching for the alluring stranger, but I come up empty. Damn. I might not have made my way over to speak to her, but I certainly wasn’t tired of looking my fill. Does she go to Boston University? I hope so. I’m going to kick myself if this was my only chance to meet her.
