Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Kristen Flowers

  “I’ll talk to the tutor,” I finally conceded with a smirk. I wasn’t thinking about apologizing or working out a plan. I was thinking of setting the tutor straight.

  “That’s what I like to hear, son,” my dad muttered. I could hear papers being shuffled on the other end and I knew I was already losing my dad’s attention. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your stats on the field and now I’m proud of you stepping up like this. You’re growing to be a fine young man.”

  I resisted the urge to snort. My dad always chose to be so oblivious. “I’ll talk to the tutor today, in fact.”

  There was a pause and I noticed even the sound of papers shuffling had stopped. I could just picture my dad looking up at the clock hanging in his home office with pride in his eyes, looking like he won in an effort to teach his son a valuable lesson.

  “That’s a plan worth following through on,” he finally responded. The paper shuffling picked back up and I heard the stapler fire off a few times. “I’ve been looking over a couple proposals and finally settled on one. Getting the paperwork together now. One of my own juniors came up with the winner, if you can believe it.”

  I grinned as I took certain devious pleasure in responding with, “Of course I can believe it. The junior learned from you.”

  “You make me proud, son,” he mentioned again with a chuckle.

  Much as I enjoyed being showered with praise from my father, I liked not being on the phone with him a whole hell of a lot more. Under the pretense of getting ready to seek out the tutor, I ended the call with him and sat up in bed. I’d been smiling but now, as I looked out the window from where I sat, the smile drained from my face.

  I really was going to seek out the tutor, but it wasn’t to smooth things over. I was going to chew that son of a bitch out for ratting on me to my father. Sure, I knew my dad couldn’t stay angry with me for long, but it was the principle of the matter. Not only did I have to deal with the phone call, now I had to go down to the tutoring center and let the tutor know who was in charge. I had to get this person straightened out. If my charm worked on past professors then, surely, it would be a breeze to placate some student tutor.

  I lazily pulled on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans before looking over at my dresser and deciding it was a better idea to wear a T-shirt with Haywood University’s emblem and its Lions football team logo. I smirked, threw on some socks and tennis shoes, and strolled downstairs and right to the house’s front door.

  “Where ya goin’?” Cruz called out, tearing his eyes away from the television after hitting pause on his football game. My other teammate, Marcus, looked over his shoulder at me questioningly. Just then two more ambled out of the kitchen with their snacks and water bottles before nodding toward me and settling on the couches.

  “The tutoring center,” I seethed. My mind was still on the person I had to get to, but was briefly distracted by the round of laughter my answer had provoked.

  “Gettin’ some one-on-one time?” One of them joked, nudging his buddy with an elbow.

  “Didn’t know school was so hard for you,” another teased before shoving a handful of pretzels in his mouth and guzzling some water.

  They continued to make jokes, some at my expense and some innuendos about a private lady tutor, so I just rolled my eyes and walked out the front door. The sun felt warm on my skin. I grew a bit more bitter about having to go deal with this situation rather than continuing to lounge around in my bedroom. I walked around back to the driveway and opened the single-car garage where I kept my flashy sports car.

  The other guys had to fight over the other two spots on the opposite side of the garage. It was known from the start that the single-car garage was reserved for me at all times. Even if I was to be gone a couple days or longer, no other teammate parked their car in it. Not that the tutoring center was all that far from where I lived, but I didn’t feel like walking and the sports car gave me more confidence anyway. The thrill of pressing down on the gas pedal, hearing it rev, and all the extra attention it got me always gave me a high like nothing else. I had less than a ten-minute drive to think about how I was going to set the tutor straight.

  I slowed to a stop at an intersection and realized I didn’t even know the tutor’s name. How was I going to march in there demanding to see him or her without a name? I grimaced, running one of my hands over my sandy blonde hair, before glancing around. Then, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and opened up my email, keeping it down low to the seat of my car. Sure enough, there was a confirmation of my appointment with my tutor’s name: Ivy Crane.

  “This is going to be easy,” I muttered with a smug smile, thinking a young woman would fall completely powerless before my irresistible charm and ridiculously good looks. Besides, I was the star running back for the university’s football team.

  The way I saw it, I was practically catnip.

  The light turned green just as I slid my phone back into my pocket. I slammed my foot down on the gas and zoomed up the hill, making a sharp right until the tutoring center came into view. Noting there was no parking, which was pretty standard, I turned the car around to double park next to the car in the spot right in front of the glass doors of the Tutoring Center.

  I was quite confident that campus police knew my car and would know better than to issue me a ticket. Even if my newest professors had different ways of dealing with things, I doubted the campus police would suddenly stop giving me special attention. I had no business being ticketed for double parking. I tugged at the hem of my Haywood University Lions T-shirt before marching up the stairs and storming inside.

  I looked around, eyes landing on a bubbly blonde first. She was staring at her cell phone’s screen before looking up and letting her jaw drop. Nice, I thought but didn’t allow my poker face to fall. The young woman stood up, but soon another appeared from behind her. This other girl had a stern and unpleasant look on her face. She looked at the blonde and then over at me disapprovingly. She walked over, chestnut brown hair pulled back in a slick ponytail and plain blouse covering everything up to her neck.

  She looked like an uptight bitch.

  I let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Landon Bryce?” she asked curtly.

  I nodded and opened my mouth to request a brief meeting with my tutor, but she didn’t let me get a word in edgewise even though I was fully prepared to give everyone and anyone an earful.

  “Well, I’m glad you finally came in,” she said barely masking her scathing tone. “I’m Ivy, your tutor,” she clarified. Something clicked in me and shifted. I wanted to chew her out, but now that I was looking at her I realized it might be fun to try a totally different tactic with this sexy looking nerd; even though she seemed as uptight and rigid as a flagpole.

  Still, I wasn’t going to take this lying down. I opened my mouth to demand some sort of explanation from her. I was ready to ask who the hell she thought she was, but I quickly closed my mouth when I saw her cross her arms and practically stare me down. She was holding her own without me having said a word.

  It certainly took me by surprise. No girl had ever treated me like that.

  I cleared my throat and looked away, keeping my face screwed up into a scowl. If she was going to pretty much silence me I wouldn’t allow her to see my expression soften, not even a little bit.

  “I only have 10 more minutes until my next student arrives,” she said. I turned back to look at her and arched an eyebrow. I had no clue why she was informing me of her schedule. “We have time for introductions, but that’s all.”

  I was floored. She didn’t know who I was and, even if she did, she wouldn’t care. Uptight prissy-pant-girls like herself never cared about guys like me. Probably because they could never get with guys like me.

  I stood in the same spot for a moment, feeling dumbfounded. Even nerds had to know my name and my face. Had she been living under a rock or something? Still, she genuinely seemed to have no idea who I was and what kind of clou
t I had at Haywood University. I watched her turn on her heel and cross the room to sit back down at her desk, hands together atop it as she waited for me to follow.

  Deciding my new plan was the best, but unwilling to admit it was my only shot to do much of anything about the situation, I crossed the room and sat at her desk in the seat across from her. Her gaze flitted to the clock on the wall behind me.

  “My next student will be here any minute.” She was pretty much kicking me out.

  Perhaps she didn’t expect me to follow her or take a seat, but I wouldn’t budge. She had made me come down to the Tutoring Center so now she would have to see me. Ivy looked down at a file in front of her and after quickly flipping through it spoke up, “Mr. Bryce,” I winced. No one called me Mr. Bryce except for stuffy professors that held their noses up high. “You have the nerve to show up here with five-minutes left and expect me to see you. I don’t babysit you. I don’t coddle you. Get here on time or get kicked out of college. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another student coming in.” She finished with a nod toward the door.

  I didn’t even turn to look. As far as I was concerned, it was of no consequence to me whether or not that next student had already walked in and was waiting for her. I suppressed a smirk when she started to get huffy about me continuing to sit silently in the chair across from her. I kind of liked it, especially when the tops of her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, as did the tips of her ears. It was obvious I was having some sort of effect on her.

  "You told on me. You ratted me out like I was a bad school kid," I chided.

  She smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile or an understanding one; it was the sort of haughty smile a superior gave someone who they were fed up with.

  “Well,” she started as she leaned forward on the desk, “You actually are a bad school kid.” She pressed her hands flat on the surface and pushed herself up to stand. I was floored yet again. She didn’t seem to be the least bit phased by my arrogance, much less my looks.

  I wasn’t used to this at all. Everything was different now in junior year and it was starting to drive me crazy. How was it possible for everything to change so drastically, so suddenly? What really bothered me was losing– I’d lost to my professors and now this nerdy tutor with the red cheeks was taking me for a ride I never signed up for.

  Still, I laughed. Two could play that game. I stood up straight to my full height, towering over her. I lowered my gaze to her and muttered, “I don’t need you.” I shrugged and laughed again to drive home the point that I didn’t care what she lectured on about. I much less cared for her “services.” At least the ones she offered within the walls of the Tutoring Center.

  “Fine,” she muttered coolly, “I’m pretty sure even you can find the exit all on your own big boy.”

  I seethed. I was used to people begging me to do things, trying to convince me of what they wanted or thought I needed. Ivy, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit interested in keeping me there. It drove me nuts. To top it off, she had no qualms about delivering her own thinly veiled scathing replies. I definitely wasn’t used to anybody talking to me that way, not even my parents.

  I felt watched, becoming aware of the eyes of all the other young women and even the couple of men in the tutoring center were watching my every move. I didn’t care. I didn’t even give them two seconds of my attention. I was too focused on Ivy.

  “You know what?” I spoke quietly, “I will be back.” I paused to let that sink in. I knew she wouldn’t want me as a student so even if she didn’t show it, knowing I’d return to her for tutoring had to bother her on some level. “But soon as my stupid grades pick up to where they need to be, I’m done.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes at me. I was stunned– nobody had ever done that to me. Refusing to give her any sort of satisfaction, I smiled cockily and turned to leave. I kept my head up the entire walk out, despite feeling completely off-kilter. Nobody had ever managed to make me feel that way.

  I got into my car, practically slammed the door, and zoomed off. After circling the block a couple times to cool down, I headed back to the house. My competitive nature started to kick in.

  I was going to teach this cute little geek to take me seriously. She may have won this small battle, but I sure as fuck was going to win the war.

  I angrily went home not five minutes after I finished with the student scheduled after Landon. It wasn’t a long walk since I lived in a small house off-campus with my mother. As soon as I crossed the threshold of the front door I noticed how messy the place was. My mother must have had a bad day.

  I sighed and leaned against the front door, head back against the door frame and eyes shut. I needed a moment before going inside to tidy up and spend the rest of the day between homework and helping my mom. It wasn’t that I minded being the caretaker; it was just incredibly tiring and difficult, not to mention something that had forced me to grow up a lot sooner than most.

  My mother’s Lupus flare-ups were nothing new to me. They had been quite bad for years now and even forced my mom, Paloma, into early retirement. Once the flare-ups started to increase in intensity as well as frequency, she had no chance but to step down from her tenured professor position at the University. Now she stayed at home and lived off her pension as she dealt with the debilitating pain. The medications only did so much to help. This happened right when I was set to be a freshman at the university. Had it not been for the discount I received for being the daughter of a professor, I would have never been able to afford going.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose in exhaustion. Now wasn’t the time to break down in tears. I already had to deal with an infuriating rich-kid-jock whose biggest problem in life was not having something handed to him on a silver platter. My poor mother, on the other hand, had to give up something she truly loved because her body gave her pain and fatigue. As of late, she’d had bouts of anxiety as well and the major depressive episodes came in and out like waves. All I could do was be strong for her.

  A lot of times I tried to push my stress deep down inside. I liked to imagine stuffing it in a little box inside my head. It wasn’t just the extra stress of my daily life that weighted down on me. Seeing my mother’s condition slowly worsen was easily the hardest thing I ever had to go through.

  I walked out back to find her sitting on the porch rereading one of her favorite old textbooks. She looked up, relieved to see me. I immediately dropped to my knees beside her, “When was the last time you were able to get to the bathroom, mom?” My voice was gentle and kind, a stark contrast to the way I had spoken to Landon Bryce earlier.

  “The pain has been too bad today to really move,” she replied sadly. That was all I needed to hear. I helped her up from the chair and slowly walked her to the bathroom to gently help her sit on the toilet. That was as far as she needed help so I shut the door behind her to give her some privacy. My mother deserved at least that last bit of independence for as long as she could hold on to it.

  I leaned against the wall and shut my eyes, allowing a single tear to glide down my cheek. It had been a shit day for both of us, more so for my mom, but I was determined to get through it. If my mother could make the most of a day riddled with so much pain that she couldn’t even get herself to the bathroom, then I could make the most of my day as well.

  “Flowers have to grow through the dirt,” my mother always said. It was her motto for life and it was during times like these that I reflected on those words the most. If my mother's lupus was dirt, I couldn’t help but think nothing seemed to be able to grow through it. I felt so helpless.

  “I’m done,” I heard her call out after some groans of pain.

  No matter how many years had passed, I couldn’t fully ignore those sounds and cries. I doubted if anyone with a heart could grow used to such noises coming from their own mother. I had trained myself by now to distinguish when she needed help, when something was an emergency, and when it was something that came with the territory of her disease. I push
ed the bathroom door open slowly and approached her to help adjust her clothing before walking her to the kitchen table.

  After helping her get settled down in a seat and be as comfortable as possible, I got started on preparing dinner for the two of us.

  “Do you need anything mom?” I asked as I pulled out romaine lettuce and some cherry tomatoes, bending forward to rummage for carrots only to be disappointed.

  She assured me she was fine so I could feel free to go about getting dinner ready. I pulled out the chicken thighs I had left defrosting, turned on the gas stove, grabbed my favorite skillet, and drizzle a bit of extra virgin olive oil on it. Once it was heated I seasoned the chicken and placed it in the skillet. The room filled with a satisfying sizzle.

  “I got a new tutoring student today,” I started to make conversation.

  “How did it go dear?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said scathingly. I paused and turned to look at her apologetically. “He didn’t show up, not to his session anyway.” I chopped the carrots roughly. “He showed up late thinking he was going to ‘put me in my place’ or whatever.” I felt the anger bubbling under my skin. I took it out on the carrots.