The End Game

by Kate McCarthy

  Her gaze comes back to mine and my brows rise coolly. Dating, remember?

  Without benefits, her narrowed eyes reply as she starts toward me.

  I grin. We’ll see.

  “So you and Jordan really are a thing?” Jaxon asks from beside me.

  “All you need to know is that we’re exclusive,” I reply, my eyes on Jordan. She shifts between seats, dodging books and discarded bags with ease as she makes her way toward us. Her legs are deliciously bare thanks to a skimpy pair of shorts the color of the sun. They’re definitely soccer legs, and I can’t wait to see how she uses them on the field … and in bed.

  I glance across at Jax, reminded of the way he acted with Jordan at that damn party. He’s got a gleam in his eye. The one that usually takes out a female at a hundred paces and leaves her begging for more. My eyes narrow. “And so help me god,” I add, “if I catch you putting your hands on her, you’ll wake up an amputee.”

  Jaxon’s mouth falls open, incredulity bright in his eyes. “Are you listening to yourself?”

  Of course I am. I sound completely irrational. I don’t care. My eyes return to Jordan, giving my cousin my back. It’s then that I notice she’s favoring her left ankle. There’s a small hitch in her stride and a pinch between her brows. She’s hurting.

  “Are you okay?” I ask when she slides into the vacant seat beside me.

  “Good morning to you too, Brody,” Jordan replies and puts her bag on the floor beside her. She leans over and tugs out her books, notes, and a pen.

  “Good morning, Jordan. Are you okay?”

  When she straightens, I place a palm on her bare thigh, letting it slide inwards and tighten possessively. Her skin feels just how it looks—warm and smooth. I bite back a groan.

  Jordan jerks with surprise the instant I make contact. Her knee cracks the desk above it, and she shoots me a glare. “What the hell?”

  “We’re dating remember?” My hand lowers to rub her banged knee soothingly. At least I hope it’s soothing for her, because it’s not for me. I have no doubt I’m the only student to ever get a boner in Business Law and Ethics. I lean her way, keeping my voice low. “You’re supposed to like me touching you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it,” she hisses, glancing quickly around the room before looking back at me. “You just groped me out of nowhere with your octopus hands and now everyone is staring at us.”

  “Newsflash. They were already staring at us, so hurry up and kiss me hello.”

  “Um … what?” She’s looking at me like I just asked her to get up close with an alligator.

  I let go of her leg and straighten in my seat. My retreat comes with an audible sigh of relief from Jordan.

  “Am I not your type?” I ask quietly, sliding the attendance sheet across her desk.

  She picks up her pen and signs her name below mine. Her handwriting is neat and tidy, a complete contrast to my messy, illegible scrawl. “I don’t have a type.”

  “All women have a type.” My grin is smug. “I’m yours, aren’t I?”

  With a roll of her eyes, Jordan passes the attendance sheet to the guy sitting on her right. “No, you’re not my type at all.”

  “Ha!” I jab my finger at her in victory. “So you totally do have a type.”

  She pauses and gives me her full focus. “Perhaps I do, and conceited jocks aren’t it.”

  “Lucky I’m not conceited then.”

  I don’t miss the twitch of Jordan’s lips and my grin widens. Dismissing me, she shifts her focus to my uncle and begins taking notes on the ethical guidelines he’s outlining.

  “So is that all there is to know about you?” Jordan asks me, though her eyes are on her page as she keeps writing. “You don’t like chocolate, your middle name is Abraham, your dream is professional football, you’re persistent, you like to think you’re not conceited when you totally are, and…” she glances pointedly at the blank page in front of me “…you don’t take notes in class.”

  “Notes?” I kick back in my seat. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”

  Her mouth falls open. “Is that the real reason you didn’t show up Monday night? Because you think I’m going to do all the work for you?”

  The real reason? My face hurt like a bitch and my mood was shit. After leaving my parents’ house, I went to the gym and lifted weights until I felt numb. And when I got home at one in the morning, I still couldn’t sleep. I lay there questioning why I bothered. Why I worked so hard. I don’t need to prove anything to my parents, or anyone else. I know that in my head, so why can’t my heart let it go?

  I meet Jordan’s eyes, keeping my voice low. “It’s not easy accepting that you need help. I hate that I struggle to read,” I confess. “And it’s not just that. I can’t take notes either. Listening is a huge issue for me. I can’t compute the words fast enough. They go in, but before I’ve had time to process them, let alone write them down, my professors have already moved on and I lose them.”

  There’s no pity in Jordan’s eyes, only that determination that’s always there like a cold fire burning. “I’m sorry it’s not easy for you,” Jordan says quietly. “You can copy my notes down later. And next time just record them on your phone or laptop. I know it takes more time, but it’s just something you have to do.”

  Something curls around my heart and squeezes. I know I’ve made some kind of choking noise when Jaxon kicks me with his foot. “Dude, what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” Clearing my throat, I pick up my pen and pretend to focus, but I can’t. When I tilt my head to look at Jordan again, she catches me and smiles.

  “Brody. Jordan,” my uncle calls out.

  I jump at the sound of his voice. Students swivel in their seats to stare, and a smirk appears on Davis’s face. I lean back casually in my seat.

  “Would either of you care to correlate ethical behavior with the practice of multi-national corporations sending profits offshore?”

  No. Hell no. Jordan’s smart enough for me not to hesitate throwing her under a bus. “I’m sure Jordan would love to answer that question.”

  Jordan shoots me a glare and my lips twitch in response.

  “Reputation?” she says to our professor, the word coming out more like a question than an answer.

  “Expand.”

  She clears her throat. “Well, sending profits offshore is a tax minimizing regime, right? That’s millions of dollars lost in American tax dollars, and directly affects the services the governments provide to us. What they’re doing might be legal via tax code loopholes, but it’s unethical, and it’s harming their reputation. Customers are boycotting these businesses, forcing them to adhere to an ethical standard or face having it hit their bottom line.”

  “Good.” His eyes scan the room. “Can anyone tell me what other ethical issues are facing big business today?”

  When the lecture is over, I snap my books shut with relief and shove them inside my bag. Students stand en masse, shuffling their way outside while I wait for Jordan to get her things together.

  “Brody, Jordan, can I see both of you, please?”

  Jordan stands. Resting her bag on her desk, she begins filling it. When she’s done I snatch it up and carry it down the front of the room for her. Davis sits off to the side. He’s lingering at his laptop like a festering blister that won’t go away, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the keyboard while pretending not to watch us. I shift forward a step, blocking Jordan from his view. It’s a subtle move but when his eyes cut to mine I know he doesn’t miss it for what it is.

  He smirks.

  My hands fist.

  “How’s the tutoring going?” Patrick asks quietly, looking between the both of us.

  “Good, Professor,” Jordan replies quickly. The back of her hand brushes mine and the knot of anxiety growing in me loosens.

  “Brody? Is it helping?”

  I shrug. “I guess we’ll find out after midterms, right?”

  The lines on his forehead
deepen. “If either of you have any problems, or it isn’t working out, come see me.”

  He nods a dismissal and we both turn to leave. “A quick word, Brody?”

  I halt, telling Jordan to go when she hesitates. Her gaze shifts quickly between my professor and me before leaving the room. My irritation ramps up a notch when I notice Davis slip out the door behind her.

  “Brody.”

  I drag my eyes away and give him my attention.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “Nothing. Just an injury at training.”

  My expression is neutral yet he cocks his head, narrowing his eyes in a look that says I know you’re lying.

  “Is that all?” My brows rise coolly. I don’t want to talk about it any more than necessary. “I need to eat before I get to training.”

  His jaw tightens, but he nods his head at the door. “Go.”

  Jordan is waiting for me when I leave the room. The pleasure dampens when I see Kyle by her side, talking to her. “Get lost, Davis,” I snap.

  “I was just checking to see if Jordan has a study partner for the case assignments.” He rubs his brow with his middle finger. “No one wants their grade jeopardized by studying alongside a dumbass.”

  Asshole.

  In my mind I’m grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall. In reality I’d get pulled from the next game if I did that. Davis knows it and follows up his comment with a wide grin.

  I take a step closer, pleased at the three-inch height difference when he has to look up. My shoulders are wider and I roll them deliberately. “Jordan’s study partner is none of your concern.”

  He shrugs, and like I haven’t even spoken he looks to Jordan. “You know, as the teacher’s aide I could help you out.”

  I glance at Jordan. Her eyes are on Davis like he’s a cockroach that won’t die. “I don’t need your help.” She takes my hand in hers, her grip tight. I give it a squeeze, liking her response.

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” He turns to leave, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. “You have my number if you change your mind.”

  She has his number? My eyes narrow.

  “Stay away from Jordan,” I call to his back as he walks away.

  He turns, brow arched, walking backwards. “Don’t you think that’s her call?”

  “You only want her because she belongs to me.”

  Kyle shakes his head. “Wow, ego much, Madden?”

  “Fuck off, Davis.” Carter shoulder checks him as he walks toward us. Kyle scowls at Carter’s back before disappearing in a sea of students. Carter gives me a fist bump and winks at Jordan. “Yo, pretty girl.”

  “It’s Jordan.”

  “What?”

  “My name,” she says, her hand still tucked warm and firm in mine. “It’s Jordan.”

  Carter smiles and lays an arm across her shoulder. “Ahh, Madden’s girl.” He nudges her with his hip. “You two left the party early, huh?”

  “Knock it off, Carter.” Letting go of Jordan’s hand, I steal the football from under his arm and smack him on the head with it.

  “Dude!” He snatches it back and spins it in his hands. “You guys coming to lunch? I’m so hungry I could swallow a burger whole.”

  “I’d pay money to see that.” Eddie interjects when he and Jaxon appear behind Carter.

  “How much?” Carter’s tone is all business and they begin to haggle as we walk out to the quad. I retake Jordan’s hand in mine, and we follow behind while they discuss terms.

  “What was all that about?” Jordan asks me.

  “What, me and Davis?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stop suddenly and give her my back, leaning down a little. “Climb on.”

  “What?”

  “Climb on and I’ll tell you.”

  “But—”

  “Hey, Eddie!” I call out. “Catch!” I grab Jordan’s bag before she knows what I’m doing and toss it at him. He catches it without missing a beat. I do the same with mine and he shoulders both, waiting for us.

  “Hurry up and do what the man says, Jordan,” Carter orders impatiently. “I’ve got a bet to win.”

  “This better be a good story,” she mumbles and climbs on my back. Her small hands link around my shoulders, clutching me tight. I’m inhaling deeply as I grab underneath her thighs, holding her firm to my back as I straighten. Jordan smells so damn good.

  “Don’t drop me.”

  I grin and lean backwards, pretending to stumble. Jordan lets out a little squeak. Burying her face in the back of my neck, she clings tighter. I’m still chuckling as we come out of the underpass and into the quad. The grass is kept green and lush, and the sun is shining bright on the students milling around talking. Most are piled in groups as they sit on the ground eating lunch.

  Jordan sighs when the warm sun hits us. It’s not a tired sound, but a peaceful one. I turn my head to look at her. Her profile is all I can see, but it’s enough. Her lashes are dark and long and her lips slightly parted, inviting a taste. I lick my own and try focusing on something else. “So how did you roll your ankle?”

  A grimace forms. “How did you know?”

  “You think I don’t notice those beautiful legs of yours when you walk in a room? I saw you favoring it. You know I told you not to text and jog.” I grin teasingly. “You fell in a ditch, didn’t you?”

  “Something like that,” she mumbles and a flush lines her cheekbones. “So what’s the beef with you and Kyle Davis?”

  Jordan’s rubbing against my back in the best possible way, with each step I take. I pause briefly to hitch her a bit higher. “We went to the same high school together. He used to play football—wide receiver like me—but he was never that great. He worked hard but the talent was never there. When someone started tampering with my gear, I had a fair idea it was him, but—”

  “He tampered with your stuff?”

  “Yeah. I’d find straps cut on my shoulder pads, my cleats missing, tears in my gloves. That kind of stuff. Not a huge deal, but enough to get me into shit with Coach because it made me late for training and games.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  I huff bitterly, shaking my head. “Is that what you’d do? Go running to your Coach?”

  “No,” Jordan admits. “But I’d want to kick his ass.”

  “And then I’d get cut from the team for fighting. A lose-lose situation.”

  “So what did you do?” she asks, lifting an arm around my shoulder to brush hair from her face.

  “I didn’t do anything. Carter did,” I reply, jerking my chin in his direction. His arm is slung around his on-and-off again girlfriend, Lara, as they walk across the quad. They’re off right now, or so I thought, but that doesn’t stop her looking up at him right now like he created Earth. “He got video of Davis in the act and threatened to put it on YouTube if he didn’t quit the team.”

  “And he quit? Just like that?”

  I nod. “He quit. But not just like that, because now he’s an eternal thorn in my side. He’s biding his time, nursing his grudge.” My jaw tightens, my expression grim. I didn’t miss the gleam when Davis looked at Jordan. He knew I saw it. “Stay away from him, okay?”

  “That won’t be a hardship,” Jordan says. Her voice is close to my ear, and I fight a shiver. I like the husky way words roll from her lips, no matter what she’s saying.

  “I mean it, Jordan.” My tone is rigid. The thought of him anywhere near her makes me tense.

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” I pause for a breath when we reach the other side of the quad. The dining hall is to the left, following a long sweeping path. To the right is the Liberal Arts building. “You having lunch with us?”

  “I can’t. I have American History.” Jordan squirms a little, indicating she wants down. I have no intention of letting her go. Instead, I stand there, enjoying the wriggle of her body against my back. “You can put me down now, Brody.”

  “I�
�m afraid I can’t do that,” I say with grave seriousness, and my hands tighten around her firm, tanned legs. “You need to rest your ankle as much as possible.”

  Preferably while attached to me.

  “Well I have to get to class.”

  “Eddie,” I shout because he has Jordan’s bag. He halts on the path toward the dining hall and half turns. I jerk my head in the other direction. “This way.”

  He shrugs and heads for us.

  “Why are you taking American History anyway?” I ask while we wait. “That’s a freshman class.”

  “It’s part of my transfer.”

  Eddie catches up and we head in the opposite direction. I have to hitch Jordan up a little again, and she protests.

  “Want me to carry you, Elliott?” Eddie asks. “Madden looks plain tuckered out.”

  “Are you calling me a heavyweight, Eddie?” Jordan loosens an arm from around my neck and punches him in the bicep.

  “Arrghhh!” Eddie cries out like a wounded elephant and grabs his arm. He rubs it, his bottom lip poking out. “Your girl is vicious, Madden.” He gives Jordan a wink. “I was only trying to point out that I’m a way better ride then he is.”

  I shove Eddie with my shoulder. With Jordan on my back it puts me off balance and we teeter precariously. Her hold on me tightens until I regain my footing. He teases her during the rest of the walk to the Liberal Arts building. When we arrive, my hands loosen on her legs, and she slides slowly down my back. I turn until we face each other.

  I’ve placed Jordan right at the front door, and it forms a blockade at the entrance. Freshmen squeeze their way around us. All of them early and no doubt eager to make a good impression. I don’t notice them. My eyes are on the lock of hair that’s fallen on Jordan’s face. I reach out, my intent to tuck it behind her ear. The strands slide through my hand like water, glossy and sleek.