Shutout (The Core Four Book 4)

by Stacy Borel

  In order for me to keep this spin, I’d have to drop the mindset that I needed to be skeptical of everyone I let close to me. She was my roommate and my new friend. I liked that word. She was my new college friend. The first of many, I hoped. This being away from home and nobody knowing me thing was going to be great. Even with the boy who used to live down the street on campus.

  IF THIS WAS HOW my mornings would begin, I’d gladly take it for the rest of the semester. First I woke up at eight-thirty, leisurely got myself ready with a shower, light make-up and gloss and headed to my very first college class. Sleeping in did me wonders. I felt bright eyed and bushy-tailed, if that was even a thing. This wasn’t like casual summer days. There was a vigor in the air, and I wanted to conquer the world. I was certain how I started this day off would set the tone for the semester. I was looking forward to this class. It was political science. Typically not everyone’s favorite, but it was one I felt confident about. It was subjective and full of debate. My major was business, and I was knocking out all of my core classes.

  The poli-sci building wasn’t very far from my dorm. On the way was a small coffee cart that sat beneath a large oak tree. The deep earthy scents lured me in. Stopping to get a small coffee, I was tempted by a blueberry muffin that looked homemade and delicious. While I was slightly hungry, I decided to wait. Coffee was filling and I didn’t feel comfortable eating during my first class. Pouring a little sugar in my cup, I secured the lid and headed to class. I loved this feeling. No bell to remind you that you were late. No slamming lockers closed indicating that everyone was heading to the same room. There was a sense of freedom in all of this.

  I held my class schedule in my hand to double check that I had the correct room as I approached the door. Two students filed in in front of me. Room 102, it was the right one. I took a step inside, and felt a sense of disappointment at the small classroom, which was similar to the ones in high school. I’d thought all classes would be in lecture halls with stadium seating and filled with one hundred or more people. In front of me were desks and chairs. They formed a circle so we would all be facing one another. I felt slightly out of place as I slid into the first empty seat I could find.

  I kept my class schedule on my desk, and placed my coffee down beside it. I hung my purse on the edge of the chair and sat in anticipation. Every person who came in, my head jerked up as I wondered which was the teacher. But, oddly, everyone was a little different. Some were dressed casual and were obviously young, like myself. But I was surprised to see a few older people in here as well. It made me wonder if they were continuing education, or if they got on later in their lives and decided that they wanted more for themselves and signed up for some college classes. The room was nearly full. Tall, short, skinny, fat, well dressed, dressed in pajamas, Brainiac looking, and one I was certain was stoned off his ass—all filling the room.

  “Welcome to Political Science 101. I’m your instructor, Robert Adams. You all can call me Rob, no Professor Adams in this class. As I’m sure you are all thrilled to be here, I am very excited that you chose this class.” One of the men gathered in the room spoke up and smiled at us welcoming. My heart jumped...my first college teacher was quite attractive. I had been anticipating an older teacher with seasoned salt and peppery hair, but, instead, Rob was no older than thirty and had blonde hair, cut short and was styled with gel. He had brown eyes full of joviality and it made me even more ready to learn. “Since I prefer my lecture rooms to be small and intimate, let’s start the day out by getting to know each other a little-”

  The door swung open and Rob’s words were cut off as another student, running late, entered the room. I glanced up after putting my schedule in my purse and was struck stupid.

  “Please come in. I was just telling the class that we are going to spend a little time getting to know each other before I hand out the syllabus. Please, have a seat wherever there is an empty spot and we’ll get started.”

  Wrigley strutted in, full of confidence and wearing a cocky grin. He had on a pair of torn cargo shorts, and a simple, black, fitted, v-neck shirt. His messy brown hair, as usual looked like he’d run his fingers through it when he’d woken up. I dropped my head, refusing eye contact and knowing the desk next to me was wide open. It was one of two left. Not here, not here, not here, not here. I repeated in my head. If I didn’t look up, maybe Wrigley wouldn’t see me and choose to sit next to the dude who was high as a kite.

  Luck wasn’t on my side.

  “Hey Hadley!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. He dropped his bag and slid into the seat with grace.

  Crap. I scowled. “Hey.” Was all I could muster. What did I say a few nights ago to myself about the possibility of seeing him, again? Oh, apparently I didn’t take into account that these were core classes and every new student was trying to knock them out. I’m an idiot.

  I peered up through my lashes and looked around me. All eyes were on us, waiting for the stranger who’d interrupted class get settled. God I hated being the center of attention.

  “You two already know each other?” Rob asked curiously.

  “Erm,” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear—a nervous habit I’d developed around sixth grade.

  “Sure do.” Wrigley answered confidently. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

  Rob smiled. “A familiar face is always nice. Helps those first day jitters.” He was speaking to me. Clearly, I looked a little awkward and out of place. I nodded to get him to move on or change the subject. Instead, it only got worse.

  “Well since we are starting out with intros, let’s begin with the two friends. Why don’t you tell us your names, where you’re from, and what your major is.”

  As if on cue, Wrigley didn’t skip a beat. “I’m Wrigley Brooks. I’m from Athens, Georgia. And my major is still to be determined. Focusing more on making baseball into a career.”

  “Ah, baseball. You here on scholarship, Wrigley?”

  “Mhmm. Could’ve gone anywhere really, but I picked LSU because this school is top rated for its program. More players are drafted out of your school for the Majors than anywhere else. No brainer.” He sat back in his chair and grinned, proud of himself.

  I took note of the girl directly across from us and the star struck, googly-eyed stare she was giving Wrigley. I was familiar with those looks and had seen them worn by many girls when it came to Wrigley Brooks. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and tell her to get in line behind all the others. Meantime, the overtly attractive male next to me need to give me space. Every time he shifted in his seat, the smell of his cologne wafted in my direction. I held my breath, and gripped the sides of my desk to keep from leaning toward the delicious musk. I knew exactly what he was wearing too. A store called Tilly’s carried a men’s spray that matched him perfectly.

  “And how about you?” Rob questioned.

  “Ummm…” I was drawing a blank. I was never one for public speaking, and I definitely didn’t like being called on unless I willingly raised my hand. Where was I from again? I sat there with a blank expression, looking every bit of the stupid I felt. My cheeks warmed and I shifted in my seat.

  “Hadley.” Wrigley tried to get my attention.

  I peered at him then at the professor. “I’m Hadley Marten.” What else did they want to know?

  “I’m assuming you’re from Athens as well?” I nodded. He was trying to help me along. “And what is your major Miss Hadley?”

  “Business.” I nearly whispered.

  “Good choice,” he commended. “If you keep your focus, it’ll take you far in life.” He waited for a moment until I gave him a shy smile, then he moved on. “You’re up next, guy in the plaid pajama pants.”

  And like that, the attention was off of me as people in the room answered Rob’s questions. I heard a few of them, but the rest faded into the background. The noise in my head was louder. This was all a bit too much for me to process. First class of the day, and I was already stumbling, just like I ha
d in high school. I was a smart girl. I made good grades, and applied myself academically. But what I wasn’t good at were people. Wrigley showing up in my very first class, when I was ready to break the mold I’d put myself in, had me sinking back in my seat. I still didn’t understand. Why was he here? Had he asked my parents about my schedule so he could take some courses with me? If so, why didn’t they tell me? This is totally something they’d do. Maybe they’d asked him to check up on me. Either way, I’d be asking when I called later.

  Wrigley stayed quiet for the most part through the rest of the class while each student introduced themselves. When it was the googly-eyed girl’s turn, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He perked up when she spoke. Perfect. Mutual interest apparently. Why wouldn’t there be? She was cute, after all.

  Her name was Ryian, she was from New Orleans, and majoring in fashion. I suppose it would have been rude if I pretended to snore while she spoke. Of course, the girl with long, blonde hair, curled to perfection; bright blue eyes and shiny lips would be a fashion major. Her designer jeans, and lace tank top was adorned with accessories to match. Seemed a bit cliché if you asked me. However, I did like her name. Boys names for girls was sort of my thing. I planned on naming my future children that way when the time came. When she was done, she gleamed at Rob and squared her shoulders. Settle down Miss Priss. We all know you rehearsed that in your head before you were called on.

  “Pssst.”

  I was wishing I’d chosen a different school. I picked at the edge of my now empty coffee cup. Boston had accepted me, and even though I wasn’t a fan of snow and winter, it may have been a better choice for me. Do they even play baseball up north? Dumb thought, of course they do. A Chicago team had just won the World Series. But I don’t think I’d have had to worry about Wrigley Brooks plopping down in a seat next to me in any classes had I gone there.

  “Pssst! Hadley!” Wrigley had been trying to get my attention. “Hey, you okay?” His features were etched with concern.

  There were still students giving their introductions in the background. Was I okay? I wasn’t one to be overdramatic about things. Honestly, I was fine, but my confidence had taken a hike. My first day excitement had fizzled out when he’d walked into my class. My class. I wanted nothing more than to get out of here and start my day over like this never happened.

  “I’m good.” I mustered a smile as I whispered back.

  His brows drew together and I knew he wasn’t so sure, but he’d have to accept my answer. I’d stopped confiding in Wrigley when we were twelve. Plus, this was about my discomfort with him being here. I couldn’t exactly say, ‘Hey would you mind finding a different political science class? This one is mine.’

  The remaining half hour dragged. My fellow classmates proceeded with their intros and I couldn’t care less. Rob told us a little bit more about himself; he got married after grad school, had a daughter, and taken this teaching job a year later. He explain a little of what we would be doing in class each day, which mostly consisted of discussions. We would occasionally be placed in groups of two or threes to pose arguments. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I liked my independent work.

  Little Miss Fashion Major did everything she could to grab Wrigley’s attention. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Reapplied her gloss, and combed her hair. She laughed a little too loudly when someone said something funny, and each time she moved even a millimeter, I imagined doing heinous things to her. This was nothing new to me though. I hated every girl that stood out and he looked at longer than necessary. It was only a matter of time before I caught them exchanging numbers after class.

  When Rob wrapped up the first session, he handed out the syllabus and told us he would be going over it next time, along with assigning us reading the first chapter in our textbooks. I was relieved when the class was over. Except now I had a full first semester with Wrigley and seeing him no less than twice a week.

  I was neatly sliding my papers into a folder to put in my bag when Wrigley bumped my shoulder, playfully. Just his touch had my adrenaline pumping. “What are you doing after class?”

  Was he serious or just trying to make conversation? “I planned on going to the café to grab a quick bite to eat.”

  “Missed breakfast?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Oh.” He furrowed his brows. “What are your plans later?”

  Okay really, where was he going with this? “I don’t know. Probably getting a head start on the reading assignment.”

  “Is this your only class today?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. I thought maybe it would be cool if you came to one of my practices or something.”

  Huh? I was confused. This was completely out of left field for him. Did my parents ask him to check up on me? The thought was there, again, that they had. If that was the case, it was completely unacceptable.

  “Since when do you ask me to come to your practices, Wrigley?”

  “Since now.”

  “I’ve all but grown up with you and you’ve never asked me to come watch you.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and faced him. His caramel colored eyes were piercing. “And that one time at t-ball doesn’t count. I was on the team.”

  That made him smile. “Man, that was ages ago.”

  I cocked a brow, still waiting for an answer. “You’re babysitting me, aren’t you? If my mom put you up to this, you can tell her I’m fine.” I pushed my chair in.

  “What? No.” He looked thoroughly confused. “I’m just asking if you want to come watch a practice, that’s all.”

  “Seems a bit out of character for you, don’t you think?”

  “If, by out of character, you mean being nice, then no.”

  We walked side by side on our way out of the room. Wouldn’t you know it, Ryian was standing near the door. She was waiting to pounce when he came out but stopped short when she saw me. Her eyes narrowed. Wrigley hadn’t noticed her yet.

  “I’m not trying to be rude by declining, but I’m just trying to understand your angle.”

  He grabbed my arm just above my shoulder. His hand was so warm and it cause goosebumps on my bare skin. I hoped he hadn’t notice. He stopped and made me face him. His beautiful eyes were piercing and demanded my attention. I had to tip my head back to look up at him.

  “Hadley, there’s no angle, no gimmicks, it’s just an old friend asking if you wanted to hang out. That’s all. I just thought it would be nice if you came and we could catch up.”

  His words were genuine. Resigned to saying yes before I turned into a puddle of mush in front of him, I said, “Okay. But not today. I was going to run some errands.”

  He flashed me his perfect smile. “Then come tomorrow. We practice every day, except Sundays when coach wants us to weight train.”

  I shifted my weight from one side to the other trying to remain indifferent. “Tomorrow then.”

  Ryian was still standing nearby and I knew she was going to approach him when I walked away. That knowledge really made me want to turn and say, ‘Back off bitch, he’s not yours.’ He wasn’t mine either. But length of knowing him counted him as more mine, than hers, right?

  “We will be in field C. Just come chill in the bleachers. We start practice at four.”

  I smiled. “Four o’clock then.”

  He winked, and I blushed. Damn bodily reactions. I walked away before I could watch him flirting with another girl. I’d seen it for years; seeing another one would probably make me vomit.

  And how did I just let him talk me into seeing him practice? That’s me physically making an effort to go out of my way to be by him. Didn’t I grumble at myself for this very thing for the past couple of days. Now I was going to be heading straight into the danger zone. Being in the radius of Wrigley Brooks was not good for my soul. I couldn’t back out now, I’d have no good excuse. He’d refute all of them. Aurora was going to have to come with me. I just couldn’t do this by myself.
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  She was going to be my Switzerland. My middle man if things got awkward. I could rely on her to make it not awkward. Lord help me when I told her she was going to get to see some of the boys from the other day. My walk back to my dorm was nowhere near as bright and hopeful as it had been two hours ago.

  AS SOON AS I WALKED into my room and found a very groggy Aurora just rousing from sleep, I asked if she would do me a favor and come with me. Her sleepy eyes flew open and she squealed like an excited school girl. Giddily clapping her hands together, she hopped up and down, “Oh my gosh, I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear.”

  “Uh, what do you mean?” I tossed my bag on the floor and plopped onto my bed.

  “I mean, do you have any idea how many attractive guys could be there? We should make our best impression.”

  Her excitement was a total buzzkill. “Aurora, I’m not looking to impress anyone. There’s no need to be all dolled up for a bunch of sweaty, smelly males, that I promise you aren’t bothering to look at who is in the stands.”

  She twisted to look down at me. She cocked her hip out and put her hand on it. “Yes they do. I dated a football player in high school, and they definitely watch who is there.”

  I swallowed. Well, that didn’t make me feel any better, but Wrigley already knew I was coming, so it’s not like he had to look for me. “I think a tank top and shorts will suffice.”

  Aurora scowled. “I mean sure, if the tank is cropped, and there’s lace on the shorts. Then it would be a really cute outfit.”

  I laughed. “Baseball isn’t meant to be glamourous. It’s just a game that goes on while it’s hotter than Hades outside and people eat peanuts and drink beer. You know, America’s favorite past time and all that.”

  “I’m surprised anyone still says that. We all know football is America’s favorite sport.”

  I laughed at her very blonde comment, but decided it wasn’t worth explaining further. “Well, you can get as dressed up or down as you want to. I’m happiest, and most comfortable, in plain clothes. I have no reason to dress up. No matter how many attractive guys are playing.” Or the one that I was going there to watch.