Teaching Tucker (Face-Off Legacy Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  He laughs. “Like you care about fifty bucks. C’mon, Tuck, be serious.”

  “It’s the principle. She said she’d tutor me. I paid for it. And now Sam and Eden are probably laughing about how they got one over on me.” I push my hands to my hips, nostrils flared in anger. “No one makes a fool of me.”

  “You’re overreacting. Do you really want a girl you fucked to tutor you, anyway? She obviously doesn’t want to help you. Get over yourself and post a private tutoring job on Strick Net. Your pride can take a backseat when it comes to getting your grades up. If you fail, you’re off the team.”

  “I know, Trent,” I growl. “Fuck, I know. I’m reminded every day by you and Preston. Am I not allowed to take a piss anymore without someone telling me what to do?”

  He holds his arms up in defense and shrugs. “Look, Tuck, we’re only trying to help you. We want what’s best for you. We want you with us when we make it pro.”

  “I’m not worried about it,” I assure him because I have it handled. “A stupid class will not come between me and my career. You should know that more than anyone. I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen.”

  He peeks up at me from under his light brows with a strange expression on his face, but he doesn’t speak. Even though Trent is younger than me by two minutes, he’s always been the more responsible twin.

  I prefer to live my life and not sweat the dumb shit. But he’s right. I need to find another tutor or find a way to win Sam over.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam

  I’m wearing my most promising skirt and blazer, dressed as professionally as I can afford. I look smart. I look like a capable teaching assistant. Now, I have to convince Professor Steven Frazier that I’m worth his time. Because I need this job.

  On my way through campus, I stopped at Broad Street Beans for a free coffee, one of the few perks of the job, but the caffeine is barely helping to keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted after staying up all night to help Eden write her article for the Strickland Gazette.

  In heels and a black pencil skirt, I feel like a professional. Keeping my fingers crossed, I hope this interview goes well, and that I’ll land my first real teaching job. Well, I won’t be teaching the class per se, but I will be doing a lot of the work on behalf of the professor.

  When the teaching assistant slot in the Franklin School of Law at Strickland University opened up, I applied immediately. A few days later, I received a call from Professor Frazier. He’s the department chair and one of the most respected lawyers in the state. Teaching wasn’t my first choice, but it beats making lattes for eight bucks an hour.

  Strolling into Franklin Hall, I lose my balance when a group of students push open the doors moving toward me. The girls laugh and roll their eyes in my direction as if I were the one who inconvenienced them. I use the wall next to me for support. I’m not used to wearing heels. This pair, in particular, is reserved for funerals or weddings and now job interviews. I should have worn flats. My feet are killing me.

  “Samantha,” a deep, manly voice says from behind me. “Or do you prefer Sam now?” His voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I know without looking who it belongs to. Tucker Kane. I would know his voice anywhere.

  Ignoring him, I walk faster creating some distance between us when a classroom empties into the hall. I can’t deal with him today of all days. Not when I’m about to interview for the most important position of my college career.

  “You never answered my messages,” Tucker says. “I don’t like being ignored… or taken advantage of.”

  I snort, shooting him a pointed look. “Well, that makes two of us.”

  Even though I played it off when he said he didn’t want more than sex, I thought back then he’d at least want to see me again. It was stupid, a foolish mistake made by a girl with a crush. I don’t know what I expected of him, but I wanted something, anything. A sign he even remembered me.

  I so eagerly gave him my virginity instead of treating it as something of value. After I handed it over, I realized I wanted my first time to be special. With someone special. Instead, I got a hard fuck in a frat house from the biggest manwhore on campus.

  He’d moved on to the next girl within days, his victims discarded one after the other. Because that’s what rich, entitled womanizers do with women. They use and dispose of them like trash. At least they do in my experience. And I want nothing more than to be rid of Tucker fucking Kane right now.

  “Go away, Tucker,” I growl, unable to meet his gaze.

  I can feel him watching me, studying my every move. “Not until you explain why you’re ignoring me.”

  I tilt my head back and laugh. The irony of this situation is not lost on me. Fucking prick asshole. “I don’t owe you a thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to an interview.”

  “You look good,” he says, and my inner bitch softens. I turn my head for a split second to see him staring at me. “Good luck with your interview, Sam.”

  And then, he does something unexpected. He actually walks away, giving up much faster than I had anticipated. I should feel relieved. Instead, I’m somewhat disappointed.

  Did I want him to fight me? Make a scene? No, not at all. He’s the last person I need in my life. I have enough shit to deal with.

  By the time I find Professor Frazier’s office, his secretary ushers me inside and announces, “Samantha Marchand is here,” as I step inside.

  Professor Frazier looks up from his computer, a delighted smile on his withered face. “Perfect timing. I was just finishing up with my latest article for the law review.” He holds out his hand to the row of chairs in front of his long oak desk. “Have a seat, Samantha.”

  I do as he says, my nerves wreaking havoc through me, my hands so sweaty I have to casually wipe them down the front of my skirt.

  He lifts a piece of paper from his desk and studies it for a second before peeking up at me from beneath his dark lashes. “I see you’re the assistant editor at the Strickland Gazette.”

  I fold my hands on my lap and sit up straight. “Yes, sir. I’ve worked at the paper since freshman year. Writing is a passion of mine.”

  “Your grades reflect that.” He smiles, and then drops my resume on top of a pile of neatly stacked papers, most likely the resumes of my competition. “A double major in law and journalism. And straight A’s in both. Very impressive, Samantha.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I choke out.

  He takes a sip from his coffee cup and sets it down. “I’ll be honest with you… I have a lot of qualified candidates coming in for this job over the course of the next week. I’m almost positive, after reviewing the other students, that the job is yours.”

  I smile so brightly my cheeks hurt, but his change in expression causes me to worry, the smile slowly slipping from my lips.

  “But you need to show me you have what it takes. This class is part fact, part subjective. I need to see how you would grade an assignment before I make a decision. Every student-teacher will be asked to grade the same assignment as you.”

  “That’s fair.” I choke back the bile rising up from my stomach and feign a smile. “I’m up for the challenge.”

  He rests his elbows on his desk and leans forward, his gaze intense. An awkward silence passes through the room. Then, he opens his desk drawer and shoves a manila folder across the desk right in front of me. “You have until the end of the week. Drop it off with my secretary after you’re finished. She will make sure I get it. I’ll make my decision next Monday. You’ll know either way if you have the job or not.”

  I stand, assuming the interview is over, and hold out my hand for him to shake. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

  He flashes a closed-mouth smile, his fingers stroking my hand in an uncomfortable way. “Good luck, Samantha.”

  And now, I’m left wondering if I want the job after all, or if I imagined him caressing my hand.

  Chapter Nine

  Tucker

 
; Finding a tutor seems like an impossible task. For whatever reason, no one is available mid-semester. After confronting Sam, I haven’t bothered to contact her. She’s clearly not interested, and I’m not in the habit of embarrassing myself around women.

  I’ve exhausted all of my resources. The tutoring center is filled to capacity, their schedules already planned out until the end of the semester. Professor Cox pretty much told me to fuck off when I asked him for help. After Trent swapped places with me in his class, I don’t blame him. So, that option is off the table.

  I even considered asking a past hookup but vetoed that stupid idea immediately. The past should stay there, where it belongs. Sam’s already haunting me enough, making me feel… I don’t know.

  How do I feel?

  Unwanted?

  Unworthy?

  I’m not sure what to think about our last interaction.

  I went to the library with every intention to study for the midterm, surprised to find Jemma on the top floor sitting at the only table. What I didn’t expect was for her to make a move. She jumped on my cock like a cat in heat, and I wasn’t about to turn her down. I’ve wanted her from the second I knocked her over in the Quad. But something’s off about her demeanor. Unless I’m reading every girl in my life wrong.

  After showing Jemma a good time in the vacant classroom in the library, we walk downstairs in awkward silence.

  This is a first.

  I expected a satisfied grin.

  Instead, she’s wearing a pissy scowl. She’s acting like we’ve already had sex, like I already had her number and lost it. But this was the first time.

  Jemma rushes past me. She bursts through the front doors of the library, her red hair flapping in the breeze. Scratching the corner of my jaw, I follow behind wondering where the hell I went wrong.

  She’s mad at me for something. But what? I didn’t do anything—that I know of. It’s hard to tell with women. Jemma came on to me. She made it clear she wanted to have sex with me. And now, she’s… disappointed?

  I wave to my brother to catch his attention. He stares at me like he’s just seen a ghost. Jemma’s mouth opens in horror as she looks at Trent and then me as if she had no idea we’re twins.

  Everyone on campus knows we’re twins.

  How can she not?

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jemma balls her hands into fists at her sides. She stares at Trent in disbelief. “Was this some kind of initiation prank? Did my sisters put you up to this?”

  Trent closes the distance between them attempting to touch her, but she steps to the side.

  My brother folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Put us up to what?”

  I cast a sideways glance in his direction. “Were you with her? Because we just…”

  Trent’s mouth twists in disgust, his expression of pure anger. Shit, he was with her, too. Not like this is a first for us, though it’s the first time neither us nor the girl knew about it.

  “But you said my name,” I say to Jemma, still confused as to why she would have thought I was Trent. “So, I thought…”

  Jemma covers her face with both hands and sighs. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. Which one of you was I suppose to meet here today?”

  Trent squeezes her shoulder. “Me.”

  She drops her hands to her sides, her eyes now puffy with a few errant tears spilling down her cheeks. “I thought he was you.”

  Now, I feel like shit because I do like this girl. Not in a marry-me-and-have-my-babies kind of way, but I could see keeping her around for a little while.

  “But you said my name,” I reiterate, my focus now on Trent. “So, what the fuck is going on? Did you give Jemma my name?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I thought she already knew mine.”

  “Because you’re so popular you thought we didn’t need a formal introduction,” she snaps.

  Trent shrugs. “You seemed like you knew me when we met in the cafeteria.”

  Her teeth clench. “Which one of you did I meet in the Quad?”

  I raise my hand. “That would be me.”

  “Which is why I thought your name was Tucker and never thought to ask,” she says to Trent. “So, you and I met in the cafeteria. Was that the first time?”

  He nods. “But you had already met Tuck?”

  “Yes. I think so. God, I’m so confused.”

  “Hey, Jemma…” I say, “… I had no idea. I thought you wanted to… you know.”

  Trent shoots me an evil look, and then his gaze lowers as if he’s somehow defeated.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Jemma. “I wouldn’t have followed you into that classroom if I’d known you thought I was Trent.”

  I’m not sure that’s entirely true. When have I ever turned down sex? Especially sex with a girl I like.

  She glares at me for a few seconds before her eyes are back on Trent. “I have to go,” she whispers, pushing past him.

  “Now, you know,” Trent shouts at me. “So, stay the fuck away from her.”

  My top lip curls up into a cross between a smirk and a snarl. He has some fucking nerve. I met her first.

  “Has it occurred to you that maybe I like her, too?”

  Ignoring me, Trent follows after Jemma, who’s power walking toward the Student Activity Center, know as the SAC. And I’m left wondering what the hell just happened.

  Lately, nothing has gone according to plan.

  I can’t find a tutor.

  The girl I like wants my brother.

  Or does she?

  Dethroned

  November Edition

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the douchiest of them all? This week’s D-Bag Award was supposed to go to Preston Parker, Mr. MVP and captain of the men’s ice hockey team, for his scandalous affair with his coach’s daughter. But the Kane twins have stolen the throne. Their latest shenanigans make you wonder…. can two princes share one crown? Or in this case, one girl?

  Trent and Tucker Kane, you have been dethroned.

  XO,

  The Queen

  “Fucking bitch,” Preston yells, throwing his phone across the living room. It hits a pillow on the couch next to me. “If Coach Bryant finds out about Bex and me before I get the chance to tell him, he’s gonna flip the fuck out.”

  “Then, man up and tell him,” Drake says, stating the obvious.

  Preston tugs at the ends of his hair. “I will. Eventually.”

  I’m still in shock by the entire situation between Trent, Jemma, and me. Two weeks have passed since the incident with Jemma, and my brother is barely speaking to me. We’re both competing for the same girl. It’s a losing battle, though. I know he likes her way more than me.

  Should I let him have her? That would be the right thing to do. But he won’t even talk to me.

  Trent stares at his phone, re-reading the blog post over again while shaking his head at the screen. We promised Jemma we wouldn’t tell anyone. Our roommates found out by accident, but they would never talk.

  Somehow, this evil online troll knows we both hooked up with Jemma. But how? How does she know anything about us? And why does she care so much? At least she didn’t call Jemma out in the article.

  “You’re missing the point,” Preston growls at Drake. “This girl, The fucking Queen, is going to ruin our lives if we don’t stop her.”

  “I still can’t track her IP address,” Jamie says, kicking his feet up on the coffee table between us. “She’s good, whoever she is.”

  “Ask your dad, then,” Preston snaps.

  Jamie shakes his head. “No way. I’m not getting him involved. I can do it. Just give me some time.”

  “That’s what you said last month,” Preston says. “Just make the call. If you don’t, then I will.”

  Jamie’s dad is a computer genius, a programmer who made his millions in video games and software. His universe is so big now that toy manufacturers have created action figures of his characters, board
games of his worlds, and everything in between. Like the rest of us, Jamie wants to prove to his dad he can make it on his own.

  I constantly feel the need to show my dad I can be a better hockey player than him, or at least up to his level, where Jamie feels it on both ends. His grandfather is a legend, the hockey player our fathers wanted to be when they were kids. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for Jamie.

  Jamie glares at Preston, his arms crossed over his chest. All of us are in a bad mood. We lost our last game. I still haven’t found a tutor. Trent hates my guts. Preston has been PMSing like a motherfucker. He’s up all of our asses. And Drake, well, he’s Drake. Nothing ever bothers him. He’s like the ocean, just goes with the flow.

  This girl is winning.

  I was already fighting with Trent, and now the rest of us are pissed at each other. Jamie and Preston always bicker like brothers, but this is different. You can cut the tension in the room with a knife.

  “All of you, knock it off,” Trent interrupts, standing up from the couch. He tucks his phone into his pocket and sighs. “There’s no point in fighting with each other over something we can’t control. I got enough shit to deal with.” His eyes find mine, and then he walks out of the living room sighing loudly.

  Drake shuffles out of the room after him, followed by Jamie, whose face is so red he looks like he might explode. He hates having his intelligence questioned. In Jamie’s mind, Preston crossed the line.

  “What are you gonna do about Trent?” Drake asks me.

  I cock an eyebrow at him. “Nothing. He’s being an asshole.”

  “He’s your brother. You share a room with him, play on the same line as him. The bad energy in the house is affecting our team.”

  “The team is affecting the team,” I shoot back. “It’s all her fault.”

  He nods, understanding I mean the coward who hides behind a screen and calls herself a queen.

  “She’s not the real problem,” he says. “You and Trent are fighting over a girl when there’s no point. Find another girl and move on.”