by Anna B. Doe
KISS TO CONQUER
BLAIRWOOD UNIVERSITY #1
ANNA B. DOE
Text copyright © 2020 Anna B. Doe
All Rights Reserved
Copyediting by My Brother’s Editor
Proofreading by Once Upon A Typo
Cover Design by Najla Qamber Designs
Cover Photo by Lindee Robinson Photography
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue
Playlist
Preview
Chapter 1
Acknowledgments
Other Books By Anna B. Doe
About the Author
Blurb
The past tore them apart.
After a terrible accident took everything from Callie Stewart, enrolling at Blairwood University is supposed to be a chance at a new beginning.
Living his best life, Hayden Watson, star wide receiver for the Blairwood Ravens, is heading straight for the NFL draft and nothing is going to stand in his way.
The present brings them together.
Their paths were never supposed to cross, but when they do, all those old demons and feelings come rushing back. Hayden thinks he knows all about Callie’s life before Blairwood and he’s not ready to let go of the past, much less forgive her for what she has done three years ago.
One thing’s for sure… it’s going to take more than a kiss to conquer their broken past.
“Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone deserves a second chance.” - Mo’ne Davis
Chapter One
HAYDEN
Everything fucking hurts.
The sweat is dripping down my face, clouding my gaze. I blink it away, trying to focus on the defenseman looking at me across the white line. My breathing is reduced to hard pants, pulse hammering in my neck from the almost two-hour-long practice.
Nixon, the team quarterback and one of my best friends, calls out the play. The ball is snapped into his hands and before anybody can blink, I’m already slipping through the little hole in our defensive line and running down the field.
I can hear the grunts as offense and defense clash behind me, but I don’t stop and I sure as hell don’t turn back until I hear the soft shift in the air. Only then do I turn around, pigskin falling into my awaiting arms. My fingers clench around the ball, holding it tightly as I continue running toward the end zone.
Thirty yards.
Twenty-five.
Twenty.
Fifteen.
Just when I think I’ll make it, strong arms wrap around me and pull me to the ground. I hold the ball close to my chest for dear life as a two-hundred-plus pound linebacker pushes me into the grass, effectively kicking all the air out of my lungs.
Fucking hell.
The whistle blows, signaling the end of the play. “It’s a wrap, guys!” Coach calls out.
Grunting, I push against the body sprawled over me when he doesn’t move fast enough. “Get your heavy ass off of me, Santiago.”
Emmett Santiago is a junior defense player, and they don’t call him “The Hulk” for nothing. But currently, he’s cutting off my air supply and I don’t find it the least bit funny.
Stumbling to his feet, he offers me his hand, which I reluctantly accept.
“Don’t be such a pussy, Hades,” he chuckles. Pulling off his helmet, he runs his hand through his sweaty hair.
Bending forward, I grip my knees and try to inhale some much-needed air into my lungs. I’m so fucking tired. The sweat is dripping off my face, my practice uniform is plastered to my body, making my skin itch.
“I think you’re confusing me with your sorry ass,” I throw back, not one to back down easily.
Emmett throws his head back, laughing hard. Not much can rattle the guy.
“What are you two ladies gossiping about that’s so funny?” Nixon asks as he crashes on the grass next to me.
“How we’ll have to find a new captain if you continue slacking like you did today.”
“Well excuse me, Mr. Will-Be-Number-One-NFL-Draft-Prospect,” Nix mocks. “I can’t use all my strength for training camp. Gotta keep all you suckers on your toes somehow.”
I shake my head at his cheesy comeback. But the dude is right. It’s just training camp. Getting back into the groove after the summer break usually takes a little bit of time. Between the summer break and new players on the roster, training camp is a mess most of the time. Unusually warm weather doesn’t help much.
Fucking climate change.
With only a couple of days left before college officially starts, and with it the beginning of football season, there is no time to slack off. After all, Blairwood Ravens haven’t become one of the best college football teams for nothing, and this year we’re going to be the best. Every single player on the team lives and breathes football. We get on that field six days a week and work our asses off.
“Cole, get your ass off my grass if you don’t want to run another set of drills!” Coach shouts at us from the sidelines.
“Yes, sir!” The dude actually salutes the guy. Coach glares at him, apparently not finding it amusing at all, but he refuses to comment. His narrowed eyes follow us as we drag our asses back to the locker room.
“Who pissed in his Cheerios this morning?” Emmett grumbles when we’re far enough away so Coach can’t hear us.
“No clue,” I shrug.
Not like Coach’s grumpiness is anything new or uncommon. He’s a man of few words, and most of them are for when you screw up. The guy has a scowl permanently plastered on his face, but he’s one of the best in the league. He can scowl all he wants if he brings me a step closer to my goal.
Thousands of guys dream of getting into the NFL, but only the best of the best actually get there and I’m planning to be one of those lucky bastards.
The locker room is buzzing with activity when we enter inside. I go straight to my lo
cker and start pulling off my clothes, ready to be done for today. My whole body aches and I can already see a bruise forming on my ribs from that final tackle.
There is no better feeling than stepping back onto that field after a break, but God, my whole body hurts like a bitch. So much for keeping with my workout regimen over the summer.
“Yo, assholes,” Nixon’s piercing whistle makes every single person in the room shut up and turn to look at him. “There is a party at Moore’s this weekend and I better see your sorry asses there!”
A chorus of cheers and agreements spreads through the room at the mention of the local bar, where most of the student body hangs out during the year. They have cheap beer, the best chicken wings in a fifty-mile radius, and huge screens plastered on the walls that are always set on ESPN.
“That your idea of team bonding?” I ask, stripping off my shoulder pads.
Nixon was named the offensive captain after our last captain graduated and was drafted into the NFL. And even though Emmett was the defensive team captain, with Nixon being the quarterback we also considered him the team leader.
I’m not sure whose smart idea it was to name Nix the captain, but I’m just glad it’s not me. Between football and keeping up with my classes, I don’t have it in me to hover over a bunch of grown-ass men and keep them on the straight and narrow.
“Nothing screams bonding like a few beers and pussy hunting.” Nixon’s grin widens.
Well, when he puts it like that, I can’t argue with his logic.
After taking a quick shower and packing up my shit, I get out. I still have to meet with my student advisor about some classes I’ll be taking this year and grab dinner before joining the team at Moore’s.
I rush across the campus, scrolling through the notifications on my phone. Even though practice just ended and we were in the same room moments ago, the team group text is buzzing non-stop. Ignoring those, I continue down my list, one particular message standing out.
Tamara: Hey hottie! I’m back on campus. Party before the classes start? Don’t be a stranger. Xoxo
A smirk spreads on my lips. Tamara and I have a mutual agreement. She knows the deal and isn’t needy, which is what I like the best about her. Apart from her rocking body, that is. Tapping at the screen, I start to write back when something, no, not something, someone, crashes into me, making me stumble. I curse as the phone flies through the air. Finding my footing, I catch it in the last second.
Fucking hell!
“What the…” I look for the person that almost cost me a couple of hundred bucks—money I don’t have—and find a short blonde, a red ball cap plastered on her head, and a huge, bright pink suitcase rolling behind her. She corrects the damn thing that’s almost as big as her, probably heavier too, and gives me a quick glance.
Biggest, darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen land on mine, but just for a second before she dips her head, that mass of honey hair falling down and covering her flushed cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers softly. So softly I can barely hear it. But I do and it’s like a jolt of lightning has hit my body.
That voice, I stop in my tracks, stunned. My mind, on the other hand, is in overdrive. It can’t be.
I narrow my eyes her, trying to make out if I’m seeing right or if it’s all in my head.
“It’s oka—” I start but don’t get to finish because she’s already rushing away, leaving me speechless behind her.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter Two
CALLIE
The door closes with a resounding thud and I can’t help myself but let out a huge sigh of relief.
I did it.
I actually did it.
My shoulders sag in relief, touching the hard, wooden surface behind me.
Safely between the four walls of the room that will be my home for the next year, I let myself breathe.
I can still feel my heart thumping rapidly, the loud flutters echoing in my ears as the blood steadily flows through my veins. Gripping my hands into fists by my sides, I feel the sweat coating my palms.
“Are you okay there?”
My eyes fly open as soon as I hear the unfamiliar voice. I was so overwhelmed by the whole situation, the need to disconnect for a few minutes—to simply be—so strong, I didn’t even realize I wasn’t alone.
What the hell?
“What are you doing here?” The question—probably more like an accusation—flies out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
Lifting my head, I look at the stranger across the room.
My room.
Concern that was only seconds ago visible on her face turns into a deep frown. Ask me if I give two fucks about it.
When I enrolled at Blairwood University I had one request, and one request only—to have my own dorm room. They assured me it was doable, although I know for a fact that BWU doesn’t have single rooms available for freshman students. With the amount of money my family gave to the university over the years, since both my parents were alumni, I would assume I could have that one little thing done for me, and now this?
It has to be some kind of mistake.
It has to.
Instead of scaring her away, my accusing, bitchy tone makes her eyes narrow at me. She crosses her arms over her chest, her chin lifting slightly in the air. “I could ask you the same question.”
“This is my room.” I lift the key I’ve been clenching in my palm in the air to show it to her.
See? My room.
Not even flinching, she does the same, raising the matching key with the same three-oh-five number chain and a fluffy blue ball dangling off it. “This is my room too.”
“You gotta be shitting me.”
We both stare at each other, fuming and waiting for the other to back down, but neither does. Finally, she rolls her eyes. “The feeling’s mutual, chica.”
The girl—my roommate as it seems—takes me in from head to toe, and I almost cringe when her light brown eyes stop at my face. Well, one side of my face, and not the pretty one. The ball cap I’m wearing throws a shadow on my face, but can’t hide it completely. Nothing can.
Let her look all she wants, maybe she’ll run away.
“They told me I would be alone,” I mutter, annoyed with the whole situation. This is not how my first day at college was supposed to go.
She arches one of her brows. “I didn’t know there were single rooms.”
“There aren’t,” I say dully.
Understanding flashes in her eyes, and if she didn’t like me before, I think now she likes me even less.
Fine with me, chica. It’s not like I’m here to make friends.
“Take it up with the dean’s office or whomever,” she shrugs and turns around, dismissing me completely. I watch her push one of the boxes closer to the bed with her foot. Her whole posture is rigid as she goes around unpacking.
Now that she isn’t glaring at me, I take a moment to look at her. She has at least five inches on my five foot two, and one of those hourglass figures guys go crazy over and girls would kill for. Her skin is golden, like melted caramel, and her curly brown hair is pulled in a high ponytail to keep it from her makeup-free face.
She’s got that girl-next-door vibe going on, but there is something more to her than what meets the surface.
Something a part of me recognizes all too well.
You’re not going there, I remind myself.
But no matter what, I can’t help the sting of guilt that jabs at me for acting like a total bitch toward her.
Tilting my head back, I wince when it bumps against the hard surface of the door, the pain spreading through my skull.
Damn, that hurt.
Massaging the back of my head, I sigh.
I could go to the dorm manager and try to sort it out, I should probably do exactly that too, but I don’t have it in me to deal with this shit now. Not after the day I had.
Taking my suitcase, which I just dumped once I was
inside, safe from the turmoil of college campus, I roll it to the other available bed.
I guess I should be lucky I’m stuck with one unwanted roommate instead of two, but right now I can’t find it in me to care.
I was supposed to have my own room, enjoying my lonely existence, but most importantly, not having to constantly worry about people seeing and hearing things I didn’t want them to.
Rationally, I knew it’s not her fault. It’s some administrative bullshit neither of us has control over, and a part of me feels bad for lashing out at her.
You promised to do better, my guilty conscience reminds me.
That little bitch has been my constant companion in the last three years. I hated her very existence, but she was insistent and I knew if I didn’t listen, she’ll just piss me off even more until I surrender to her wishes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, peeking once again over my shoulder at the girl.
My roommate.
That is something that will definitely take some getting used to.
