“It’s no trouble. I have a book to return anyway.”
“Oh, okay.”
There’s a moment’s pause where it seems that neither of us really knows how we’re supposed to do this. Awkward. Then he grabs his bag, unzipping it and pulling out a stack of papers.
“Starkie gave me these,” he says, handing them to me. I scan through and see that they are detailed notes from his missed lectures. That will make this easier. Easier but not easy. He may have the facts to learn but what he needs is the technique. The way to research source documents and cite them to form conclusions. How to judge the reliability of sources too, and how to structure the many essays he’s going to be required to produce. These are not easy things to impart to someone, particularly if they haven’t studied much history.
“That’s good,” I say.
His shoulders rise as he inhales a deep breath. “Look…” His eyes meet mine as he pauses and the impact of them hits me hard. It’s as though his pupils have exploded outwards to create eyes the color of onyx. They’re unnerving and sexy as hell, framed by dark lashes and soft looking brows. And that slightly crooked Roman nose is a killer. “…just…I know this is a big thing for you to do. So thanks.” He shifts his feet and looks over my shoulder as if this whole thing is painful.
I find I want to make him feel less awkward and that surprises me. From afar, Dominic Ramsey seems larger than life. A solid and indestructible force. But up close I see something different. Something that slips inside my heart and makes my throat tight. For a second I feel vulnerable like my whole psyche understands that this gorgeous man has the power to hurt me badly. Past pain rushes back and I swallow, trying to push thoughts of another dark-eyed man from my mind. I straighten my back and shrug as though none of this matters a damn. “Don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart,” I say. “I’m getting paid, and think of all the cred I’ll get if I can keep you on the team.”
For a second I think I see a flash of hurt, and he reaches out to take the papers back in a way that seems defensive. “Can we make a regular time and place?” he asks with no warmth in his voice.
“Sure. I’m pretty stacked most days but I can make Tuesday and Thursday evenings. We could meet here?”
“Would you be okay to come to my place? I’ll have practice first so I’ll need to go home to eat.”
The library would be more professional but if this is the only way I can get my scholarship money, then so be it. “Sure. Why don’t you text me the address? Is 8pm okay?”
Dominic nods as he stuffs the papers back into his bag. He looks like he wants to end the conversation and I feel bad for making him feel uncomfortable, even though I know that keeping a barrier between us is the only way I’m going to be able to protect myself.
“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks.
I try to recall if I have anything going on, but Tuesdays are usually downtime for me. “I can do tomorrow.”
He nods again. “See you then.”
I’m about to say bye, but he’s already started to walk away, making his way down the stairs and back in the direction I came from, his bag slung over his shoulder. I watch his retreating form, wondering what it is about him that makes me respond so emotionally. I guess that’s the funny thing about life. Thousands of people can pass you by on a daily basis and you don’t remember a thing about them, yet suddenly one individual can step into your eyeline and that’s it. They register.
That’s what Dominic has done. He seems to have forced his way into a part of me that I closed up years ago. The part that opens up at the beginning of a relationship, the part that is usually filled with hope. Except too many things have happened in my life, and now that hopeful place has been darkened with doubt and fear.
When he’s turned the corner, I head into the library and return my book. On my way back to my dorm my phone vibrates in my purse. Big D’s number flashes up. The message contains one sentence. His address and nothing else. I guess my tactic worked to push him away. I should be happy, so why do I feel so sad?
3
Dominic
I’m late for practice and Coach is pissed. He has me running laps around the field as punishment, but what he doesn’t know is that I love that shit. No one else to distract me. Just the stretch of grass in front of me, and all the stress and tension I find myself loaded down with these days to pound out.
It’s warm, unusually warm for this time of year and that just makes it better. Harder. Sweatier. The more my muscles scream, the better I like it.
Maybe that makes me strange. I hear the groans when other players get on the wrong end of Coach’s temper. I’ve always liked the mental determination needed to break through that pain barrier and keep on going on the other side. It’s what’s made me the player I am today. It’s what’ll take me pro as soon as I’m done with college.
And when I’m done with football, it’s my determination to get this damn degree that will mean I have something to fall back on.
Walking into Professor Starkie’s lecture this afternoon gave me the best feeling. There is something about taking charge and sealing my own destiny that has me buzzing. All these shitty courses they’ve had me doing to guarantee I’ll make good enough grades to keep playing have numbed my brain. As fucking terrifying as it is to be taking on tough courses at this late stage, I’m determined to ace them. I’m sick of people thinking I’m dumb. Whenever I hear my nickname it gives me a flashback to middle school, when Jayden Huntley started to call me Big Dummy. No one here knows the history behind my nickname and I’m not going to be sharing that with anyone anytime soon.
Professor Starkie seems cool; all boho clothes and smartass attitude. I’m not crazy about her style but I like a woman with spunk. Hannah Star, my new tutor, seems pretty spunky too. I’m still smarting a little from her ‘I’m doing this for me’ comments. Stupid, because I’m glad she’s got her own motivations. Whatever it takes for me to prove I can study the subjects I’m interested in, is fine my me.
I finish my laps and Coach gets me running plays with Connor, Harrison, and Peter. There’s way too much testosterone on show and the ball doesn’t go where it’s supposed to. I don’t know who’s having woman troubles, but I’m damn well gonna find out later. All this temperamental bullshit is what’s going to cost us this week’s game if the team doesn’t pull it together.
The guys are all bullshitting in the showers and locker room, throwing cusses back and forth like they should have been throwing the ball in practice.
Harrison is quiet, though. He can tell I’m pissed. He knows what’s coming.
I get my gear packed up and then I turn to face the team. Peter is in the middle of telling everyone about two girls he fucked over the weekend when I bang my fist against the lockers. “We were a pile of shit out there,” I bellow. “What the fuck is going on?”
The team is quiet, heads hung low or avoiding eye contact at the very least. I’m not the only one who cares, and I’m not the only one who knows. I’m just the one who will call it out.
“Look, we’ve all got stuff going on outside of this team, but letting it fuck up your game isn’t gonna do any of us any good. Leave your dramas outside the doors to the locker room and focus on your game. That’s all we need to do.”
There’s a murmur of agreement as I grab my bag and head out. Harrison follows and we walk outside, heading towards the lot where he parks his car, and my dorm.
“You’re right to say it, D,” he says. “We were rough where we should know this.”
“It’s just an off day,” I say, hoping that if I voice it, fate will make it so. “There’s some guys back there that need to sort out their shit. Either fuck more or fuck less or eat more or sleep more. I don’t care what it is, they just need to do it.”
“And what about you, D. What do you need to do?”
Now there’s a question. It’s not like I have any problems hooking up with girls. If you’re a baller, and you’re half dec
ent looking, you’re getting pussy. That’s just how it is. And sometimes I wish I’d been raised differently so I could be making the most of these days that should be my wild youth. But we’re all shaped by our pasts, our upbringing, and experiences.
I can’t just hit up any girl who’s looking for a boyfriend when I’m looking for a good time. There are some girls who like casual sex. I’m okay with having a regular fuck buddy, but when feelings get involved, I’ve been pulling back. It’s not that I don’t want a relationship. I guess I’ve just never found a girl who I thought would understand my situation. And it’s tough to keep on my game and stay focused at school, with a girl wanting all my time.
“I don’t know what I fucking need,” I say, which is the honest truth.
Harrison sighs. “Do you think you’re taking life too seriously, D?”
I shake my head. “You saw me at the club on Saturday. I still got time for a good time.”
“Yeah. But since Nicki got all serious on you, I haven’t seen you with a girl.”
“I learned my lesson.”
Harrison makes a disbelieving sound in his throat. I guess he thinks it’s funny that I’m letting one girl who wanted to turn a physical relationship into an emotional one, dictate my next moves. The thing is, I don’t want to hurt anyone. It feels shitty to know that someone thinks they love you, especially when you’ve done your best to make sure they don’t really know you.
“There must be someone you wanna get with?”
“My dick sees plenty he’s interested in. Trouble is, that it’s never that simple.”
“Simple and women are never part of the same equation, D. But you being a monk isn’t gonna help anything either. I know you got a whole lot going on, but so did I. Then Jenna came along.”
I shrug my shoulders because maybe he’s right. Since he got together with his stepsister, Harrison has chilled the fuck out. He’s relaxed in a way I didn’t expect, and it’s done wonders for his game.
“You got lucky,” I say because it’s true. He knew Jenna really well before they got together, and they had to keep it quiet for a while until she was comfortable enough to tell their parents. Now it’s all happy families. I might sound jealous, and I guess I am in a way, though I’d never admit it. All Harrison has to think about is his game. He’s smart as fuck and his girl is a peach. His life is simple.
“You know what, when I get my grades up, I’ll think about my dick. Until that happens, he’s gonna be spending his time with my right hand.”
Harrison chuckles. “Remind me not to shake your hand,” he says.
I punch him on the shoulder with my right fist. “I got a hot tutor, so maybe, if she does what she’s getting paid for, I might get a two’fer.”
“You a dawgg,” Harrison says, punching my back and jogging towards his car. “See you tomorrow, D. Don’t work that arm of yours too much. We need it for the game.”
“Fuck you!” I call after him laughing, then head to my dorm to look over the notes Professor Starkie gave me. I don’t want to make a dick of myself in front of little Miss Hannah Star.
4
Hannah
All day there’s been just one thing on my mind; the looming deadline of Big D’s tutoring session. Every hour that’s passed has been marked with the realization that I’m sixty minutes closer to making the journey across campus to his dorm. Andie gave up on me at lunch, turning to focus all her happy chatter on Jenna and Harrison who had joined us in the cafeteria. I couldn’t seem to face my usual salad either. All I wanted was a huge burger with fries and a milkshake, but that kind of food doesn’t mix well with my evening job. Got to keep slim and that means bland lettuce and way too many egg and tuna portions for anyone’s sanity.
I catch Jenna and Andie staring at me, and then looking at each other.
In the end, I make excuses and head to my dorm to finish my assignment that’s due next week. It may sound stupid but if I don’t finish my work early I feel totally out of control. Being on top of everything in my life keeps me on an even keel.
I make some coffee and push myself to concentrate. For two hours I lose myself in answering the essay question that Professor Starkie set. When I’m done it’s 6pm and my stomach is growling. I’ve got some fish to cook and some veggies to steam, and when all that’s done, and the dishes are put away, I take a shower and throw on some leggings and a t-shirt dress, pack up my bag and head out.
The evening air is warm and damp. It doesn’t take me long to cross campus to where Dominic’s dorm is located. As I get closer I find myself getting nervous and I don’t like it at all. He’s just a guy, I tell myself. I’m the one doing him a favor. He’s the one who should be grateful. He’s the one who should be nervous. I take a deep breath and push the buzzer. The door unlocks and I start up the stairs. When I’m nearing his floor I hear someone coming in the opposite direction. I’m not expecting it to be Big D, so when I look up and find him there, looming above me, it’s a shock. He’s just so massive, in every way. From his broad shoulders that block out the light to his huge hand that is gripping the banister. I’ve seen the way he uses those hands to handle the ball on the field; thick fingers to grip and broad palm to support. For a moment I feel woozy, as though his presence is so overwhelming that it knocks the sense from my head. Then I meet his dark eyes with mine and smile quickly.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies gruffly. His voice sounds thick with sleep, but I think he’s just out of the shower. His hair is spiked and wet and he smells of alpine fresh shower gel.
“You ready to study?” I don’t really know what else to say as we stand awkwardly in the stairwell. He nods and turns, heading back the way he came. His feet are bare and for a second he seems different. Vulnerable almost. I don’t know what it is about seeing parts of a person that are usually covered up that make then seem more real.
His room is at the end of a corridor. It’s big and bright with two beds. I’m assuming his roommate must be busy tonight. I’m expecting it to smell of sweaty man; he is an athlete after all. But it doesn’t. It smells just like him and his side of the room is neat as a pin.
There are two chairs in front of the desk, as though he’d readied the room for my arrival. I study him and find him looking around in a way that seems almost nervous, but when he catches me looking he straightens his back.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure. Just some water.”
I put my bag down on the floor by the desk while he heads out to the kitchen area. On the wall by his bed, he has a montage of photos; a middle-aged couple who I assume are his parents, some older, white-haired people and a little girl with gorgeous, soulful dark eyes. She looks a lot like Big D. A younger sister maybe.
“Here you go,” he says from behind me, catching me off guard.
“I was just looking at your photos,” I say, not wanting to seem like I was doing anything sneaky.
“Should we start?” He sits down on the chair nearest the door, legs so huge I go a bit woozy. I think about all the times I’ve fantasized about this man; about the feel of his lips and his rough fingers, the heavy press of his body and the rigidness of his cock. I’ve imagined his smell and his taste, the way he’d fuck and the things he’d say. Just being in the same room as him has me flustered, and I don’t like it.
“Sure. Where do you want to start?” I perch on the edge of my chair that is slightly lower than Big D’s. I feel like a little girl next to him. Like an eight-year-old going to see Santa. He could haul me onto his knee and ask me what I wanted for Christmas and I know what I’d want to say; ‘a taste of your lips’. I’d want to ask him to grip my hips with those thick fingers and press me against his cock. My cheeks flame at my thoughts and I fumble through my bag, looking for a pen.
“At the beginning,” he replies. His voice is so deadpan that I think he’s joking for a moment. When I find the pen and look up at him, I see that he’s serious.
“Alrighty
then,” I say. And we do. For the next forty-five minutes, I go over lecture 1 and 2 with him. He takes notes with a serious look on his face. There’s no messing around, no silly questions or small talk. He concentrates like his life depends on knowing this information, and I suppose in a way it does.
“So, those are the kinds of things that Starkie will expect to see you raise in an essay question on this.”
“Right.” He notes that down in his spider-like cursive.
“What I think would be good is if you spend the next half an hour outlining a response to the essay question that was set for this topic. Don’t write it all, just bullet points on the things you would feature and the arguments you would make. Then I’ll take a look.”
Dominic looks wary. It seems he’s okay with listening, but not so okay with putting what he’s learned into action.
“I brought some reading to do,” I say, reaching into my bag to pull out the textbook I brought along.
“I think what we’ve done is enough,” he says. I can do the prep later and run it past Starkie.
I frown, not getting what the problem is. “Do you need to be somewhere?”
“No.”
“I think Starkie is expecting me to handle everything. It’s part of the deal.”
He frowns and stands, putting his hands into his pockets. It feels like he stares at me silently for an eon, but when I eventually gather the courage to look up at him, his expression isn’t angry. It’s kinda worried.
“Look, Hannah,” he says. “Can I be honest with you?” I nod and he turns, walking towards the window and lifting the curtains to look outside. “My writing isn’t that good.”
I glance at the pad he was jotting notes on and don’t see anything obviously wrong. His script is kind of small and scratchy looking, but nothing out of the ordinary.
“Your writing looks fine,” I say, confused.
“Look at it again,” he says gruffly.
I pick up the pad and try to read the first line. I’m a few words in when I see what he means.
He has his back to me, still looking out of the window as though he can’t bear to watch me figure it out.
BIG D: A SPORTS ROMANCE Page 2
