The Backup Plan (Back in the Game)

by McLaughlin, Jen

  “Yeah. A little.” He reclined against the wall, looking defeated. Despite my best intentions to stay uncaring toward him, my heart panged. “I think it was all the notes I’ve been taking this week. At least I’ll get to rest it over the next couple of days.”

  I nodded, staring at him when he glanced away. Why did he look so delicious in sweats? “You’re not thinking about skipping class, are you?”

  “No. It’s the weekend.” He looked at me weirdly. “Friday night.”

  Oh. Right.

  Yeah. It was official. My social life was seriously lacking.

  I hadn’t even realized it was the weekend, let alone made any plans. No wonder my mom asked if I was coming home tonight or not. I hadn’t gone home yet in the month I’d been here, and she was getting antsy.

  “Don’t worry, I still paid attention in class. You won’t lose your job…yet.”

  My stomach growled so loudly I swear the dorm room next door heard it. “Good. God knows, I can’t survive in this world without you being my kind benefactor.”

  “You said it, not me.” He topped that statement off with a shrug, his gaze dipping down.

  I’d like to think he was admiring the flat lines of my toned stomach, but I knew it was because he’d heard the enormous monster growling inside of it, begging to be set free. “When did you become such an ass? Was it after the accident?”

  He glared at me. “Does it matter?”

  I nibbled on my lower lip. “I guess not.”

  “Exactly. As long as you get your degree, it doesn’t matter how much of a prick I am, or what I’ve done in the past.”

  I wanted to ask him what happened that night when he’d crashed, but he was probably sick of answering that question. And, despite our history, I really didn’t know him that well. I didn’t feel I had the right to pry or anything, so I turned my head and continued my casual examination of his room. It was best if we kept to tutor and tutored. I ran my fingers over the plaster wall. It was rough and warm. “No matter how much of a dick you are, it won’t make me leave. I need this degree, Chase.”

  He didn’t say anything to that. Just watched me.

  I went back to exploring his dorm, because it was easier than looking at him. Safer, too. It was ginormous. It had pale yellow walls and a white ceiling. Even with the typical two dorm beds, dressers, and desks inside of it, there was plenty of walking room. I headed toward the corner of the room, peeking into the open door in the corner.

  Geez, there was even a private bathroom.

  How the heck had he pulled that off?

  I scratched my itchy scalp and debated whether he’d let me use his shower for ten minutes. I was almost desperate enough to ask. I bet he had shampoo in there. Fancy shampoo. “How did you get a room this nice?” I turned around to face him but was caught off guard when I found him right behind me. Literally. I tried to continue on as if his close proximity didn’t affect me at all. After swallowing hard, I said, “Mine’s, like, a quarter of this size.”

  He raised a brow. “I have a rich daddy who is willing to pay deep for me to have my own room. Anything to avoid actually having to deal with me.”

  “But there’s another bed.” I tensed because once again I had nowhere to retreat, unless I slid into the bathroom and shut the door in his face. “Don’t you have a roommate?”

  A flash of pain crossed his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it came. “I did. But I killed him.”

  “Chase…”

  “Don’t. Just don’t.” He walked past me. I inhaled the scent of his cologne. Man, he smelled absurdly delicious. “Dad sent you here to make sure I passed my classes—not for you to be my therapist. Ready to study?”

  “All right.” I followed him, and despite my earlier thoughts about keeping to tutoring, I couldn’t help but ask: “Why do you hate him so much?”

  He blinked at my abrupt question. “Lots of reasons. None worth going into with someone in his employ.”

  “I’m not a rat. You can trust me.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I never gave you a reason not to trust me,” I said, my voice almost a whisper.

  He dipped his gaze low, lingering on my lips. I swore I could feel his stare like a caress. It made me want to press my fingers to my mouth to relieve the tingling sensation, and the worst part was he had no clue what he was doing to me. “Remember the time we rode our bikes to the lake at midnight, the last night of summer?”

  “Yeah.” A smile played at my lips. “We laid down on our backs and looked up at the stars, dreaming of a future where we weren’t so small.”

  “You were going to grow up and rule the world.”

  “When we came back, your dad was waiting for us.” I crossed my arms. “You told me to hide so it looked like you were alone.”

  He shrugged. “There was no point in us both getting in trouble.”

  “You were grounded for a week,” I pointed out. “I got ice cream from my parents the next day. I felt so guilty, it didn’t even taste good.”

  “Is that why you snuck me cookies later that night?”

  I let out a small laugh and nervously pushed my hair behind my ear. “Yep.”

  “You shouldn’t have felt bad.” He stared at my mouth. “Life wasn’t so bad in that room. I had everything I needed, and I even had you.”

  I bit down hard on my tongue. Of course, I had been halfway in love with him back then, but I wasn’t that naive girl anymore. Falling for him would be the worst idea ever. I might think he was hot, and I might secretly want to touch his abs—seriously, they were amazing—but there was a difference between wanting and doing.

  Wanting was fine.

  Doing was idiotic.

  I pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer. “You used to tell me everything back then, and I never ratted you out.”

  “That was then.”

  I shrugged. “And this is now.”

  “You’re working for him,” he pointed out, as if I’d forgotten.

  “So what? I’m the same person I was then.”

  “No, you’re not.” His gaze dipped down my body. “Like you said, you’re grown up now. I’m not the same kid, and neither are you.”

  “But I’m still me.” I took another step. “I remember what you told me at the lake.”

  He quirked a brow. “Congrats. Want a cookie?”

  “You told me you were going to be a famous football player. You also wanted to buy a motorcycle once you were old enough.” I smiled. “You were still mad at your dad for taking your dirt bike away. Your mom had just died, and you were quiet. Pensive.”

  He tensed. “We’re not talking about her.”

  “I know.” I cocked my head. “I remember you saying that, too. And you also said that you were going to date someone he hated, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

  His mouth curved up. “I never did get that motorcycle.” He gave me a once-over. “Or the girl he hated, for that matter…”

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my finger at him. “I’m not her.”

  “I don’t know. I think you could be, if you wanted to.” He licked his lips and shot me a cocky smirk. “But then again, maybe not. He must not hate you too much if he sent you to me.”

  “Even if he hated me, and you wanted me, I wouldn’t be that girl.”

  He sat down at his desk. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m here to do a job.”

  Cracking open his textbook, he snorted. “Believe me, neither one of us is about to forget why you’re here, Mousey. Even so, if I wanted to seduce you and tried, I have no doubt I could succeed.”

  Fisting my hands at my sides, I took another step toward him. “Where do you get off telling me who I do or do not want?” I asked, my tone tinged with the anger he awoke inside me.

  He laughed. Actually laughed. Even worse, he didn’t look up from his book. “Whatever. You don’t want me. I get it. Are you ready to study?”

  I shook
my head, the frustration I was currently feeling all too clear in my voice. “Does it bother you that I’m not like the rest of the girls who collapse at your feet?”

  “Do I seem bothered?” he shot back.

  He didn’t, and that’s what made me so angry.

  He met my eyes, looking completely unbothered by this conversation, while I was ready to explode. “Are you hungry?”

  My stomach rumbled even louder than the last time.

  “Guess that answers my question,” he said drily.

  My cheeks went red-hot. Digging my nails into my palms, I forced a smile. Time for retreat. Once I took a few breaths, he wouldn’t bother me anymore. I just needed to pull myself together. “Starving, actually. I’m going to hit the cafeteria before it closes, then I’ll come back to study.”

  He said nothing, just kept reading, so I checked the time nervously. I hadn’t been dismissed, and as much as I might hate it, I kind of worked for him, so… “Chase? Is it okay if I run to the cafeteria?”

  Finally, he lifted his head. “You don’t have to ask my permission.”

  “Actually, I kind of do.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Go ahead, if you want, but if I were you I’d get something besides that crap.”

  “I like the food here,” I said defensively. Okay, that wasn’t really true, but it was all I had. His father purchased a meal plan for me, and it was all I had to my name. If I didn’t eat at the cafeteria, well, I didn’t eat. And that had been happening way too much lately. “I’ll be right—”

  “I ordered some pizza. You can have some.” He looked me over from head to toe. “You still eat that, right? Or are you vegan now?”

  I pointed to the I love big cheeseburgers and I cannot lie T-Shirt I was wearing. My mom had gotten it for me last year for Christmas. “Do I look like I’m vegan?”

  He skimmed the shirt and shrugged. “I guess not. That shirt looks baggy, though. Have you lost weight this month?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know,” I said defensively, tugging at the shirt self-consciously. “Does it matter?”

  He frowned. “No, but I just wanted to make sure…” He hesitated, then finally added: “You have money for food, right?”

  This was it. This was how I died. Of embarrassment because Chase Maxwell was asking me if I could afford to buy food—and I couldn’t. The difference between us had never been so clear as it was now, in his dorm, with him concerned that I wasn’t eating.

  I’d rather he kept the attitude. It was easier to dislike.

  “I have a meal plan.”

  He cleared his throat and stared at his book again. “Good.”

  Had I really lost weight? Did I look bad? I tugged at my shirt again, looking down at my body. Sure, I didn’t eat three meals a day, but I always made sure to eat at least one. But, hey, between worrying about him passing his classes, and fitting in time to prepare for mine, I hadn’t had a lot of time to hit up the cafeteria, okay? It would only get worse as time went by, too. We’d only been here a month.

  He winced and rotated his shoulder. “Let’s work while we wait for the pizza. I promise I won’t let you starve until then—we have too much shit to cover.”

  Yeah, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with not taking care of his shoulder. He would never forgive himself if he didn’t get back in the game because he’d been too stubborn to wear a sling. He already had enough on his plate.

  “I’ll help you.” I crossed the room and grabbed his sling off of his bed, tossing it at him. He caught it reflexively. “As soon as you put this on.”

  “No.” He frowned at me, looking perfectly regal in his indignation. “You don’t get to boss me around—”

  I laughed. “You spend every second of every day bossing me around, and now it’s my turn. Your shoulder won’t heal properly if you don’t listen to it when it needs to be taken care of, and you’ll never get back in the game. Put on the stupid sling.”

  “No.” He dropped it on his desk, crossing his arms. “I won’t be back in, anyway. My shoulder’s ruined. It’s a dead dream, and I deserve that.”

  I picked it up and slammed it against his chest. “Put. It. On.”

  He stared up at me with narrowed eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was about to fire me, kiss me, or strangle me. Maybe all three? Without so much as blinking, I returned the unspoken challenge, raising my brows. I’d been the first to look away the last time we did this—I wouldn’t lose again.

  One way or another, that stupid sling was going on his arm, even if I had to wrestle him to the ground and put it on him myself. He might think he didn’t want to play football anymore, but he was fooling only himself. Not me.

  Chase needed to play.

  Everyone knew that.

  After what felt like years of our staring contest, his nostrils flared, and his gaze broke away. As he picked up his sling, he sighed. “You’re seriously going to try and force me to wear this?”

  Victory was mine. I’d taken on Chase Maxwell and won. Nothing could stop me now. I was invincible. “I am.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. But I was going to put it on anyway, so don’t get too excited.”

  I fought back a grin. Liar. “Okay.”

  He shot me an annoyed look.

  I held my hands up. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “Sit down,” he said in that tone that he always used when he was telling me what to do.

  I sat down. As I situated myself on the seat, my knees brushed against his thigh. He squinted at me when I drew in a deep breath, so I fumbled in my head for something to say. Anything. “You’re bossing me around like I’m your servant, you know.”

  “Not my servant. My employee,” he said, looking up at me from under his mussed brown hair. He looked so adorably disheveled that I could kiss him…if I didn’t want to hit him so badly. “You’re here to make sure I don’t fuck up. You kind of answer to me.”

  I gripped my knees. Leave it to him to once again point out the class difference. “Some things never change, I guess. You’ll always be the spoiled rich boy, and I’ll always be the unworthy one who’s beneath your notice.”

  He looked at me as if he was going to argue with me, but he shook his head and opened his Advanced Marketing book instead. “You’re here for a reason, so let’s get on it. I’m this close to a B in this class. Did you read our assignment yet?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t had a chance.”

  “Then why come if you weren’t ready to help me?”

  “Like you said, I answer to you,” I said between clenched teeth. “You called, so I came.”

  He looked at me strangely. “But you knew why I wanted you here, yet you’re not ready.”

  Tears burned my eyes. I’d been going without sleep, without food, and now he was on my case because I wasn’t prepared to help him. He was right to be angry, but I was just so tired. I forced my emotions back, pulling my book out of my bag. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll read it right now. Why don’t you go over it one more time while I catch up?”

  “Sure, let me sit here on your time and wait for you to catch up,” he said sarcastically. “It’s not like I have anything better to do on a Friday night.”

  I stood, rage trembling through my body. “Actually, you don’t. You don’t have a life, or a girlfriend, or anything besides me, really. No one wants to be around you anymore, so unless you want to go jack off or something, sit down and shut up so I can read the fucking book, okay, boss?”

  As soon as I said it, I regretted it. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t mean.

  And I didn’t snap at the person I was supposed to be helping.

  Guilt choked me, and those tears burned my eyes even more. I wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t collapse in front of Chase Maxwell, of all people. I closed my eyes briefly. “Look, I’m sorry—”

  He stood slowly, his slung arm cradled to his chest as he rose to his full height. It was so slow, so cautious, and
somehow more threatening than if he had stormed toward me, or screamed at me to get out of his room. The way he looked at me—all cold, calculating, and calm—shook me more than any yelling would have.

  “Is that what you think about me? That I’m too lame to get a date?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. “That no one could possibly want me anymore with my injured arm and fucked-up past?”

  I shook my head rapidly. “Your injured arm is barely noticeable to anyone but yourself. If anything, it only makes you hotter. That’s not why you can’t get a girl.”

  He gestured toward me. “Please. Tell me why, then.”

  This was a bad idea. A horrible one. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

  “Taylor?” he said politely, coming out from his desk and approaching me. He stopped mere inches from me, touching my chin and tilting my face up to his.

  “Y-Yes?” I asked breathlessly.

  He studied me closely. “Why can’t I get a girl?”

  I lifted my chin higher, my stomach in tight knots. “Because you’re a jerk.”

  He laughed, not letting go. “Like that’s made girls stay away before?”

  Well, he had a point, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I tried to move around him, but he stepped in my path. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. Like I said, I’m hangry, and tired, and—”

  He frowned. “Hangry?”

  “Yeah, you know,” I rolled my hands in a circular motion. “Hungry and angry. Hangry.”

  He didn’t move for a few seconds, not even breathing, but then he laughed. Actually laughed. Letting go of me, he sat back down, still shaking his head, and picked his book back up. “Hangry. That’s hilarious.”

  I licked my lips, not sure what had just happened, but grateful he no longer looked like he was about to kiss, fire, or kill me. None of those things would be good.

  If I were to rank them in order from bad to worse, it would go:

  Fire. Kill. Kiss.

  “Taylor?” he said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  I bit my tongue. “Yeah?”

  “You’re going to read, right?”

  Nodding, I lowered my trembling body into the chair and opened the book. As I flipped to the proper page, I couldn’t help but wonder what the heck had just happened.