[Love in the End Zone 01.0] Out of Bounds

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by Jillian Quinn




  Out of Bounds

  Jillian Quinn

  Contents

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  In the Zone

  Chapter One

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  About the Author

  LOVE IN THE END ZONE SERIES

  In the Zone

  Out of Bounds

  FACE-OFF SERIES

  Parker

  Kane

  Donovan

  Jameson

  MORE THAN SERIES

  More Than Friends

  More Than Roommates

  SEXY STANDALONE NOVELS

  Teach

  One More Night

  SINS OF THE PAST SERIES

  The First Sin

  The Ultimate Sin

  For more information, visit JillianQuinnBooks.com.

  Sign up for my newsletter HERE.

  Copyright © 2017 by Jillian Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at jillianquinnbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Out of Bounds was previously published as Roughing.

  Chapter One

  Sophomore Year

  Bash

  I stare at Tori, her head turned away from me, sleeping in the hospital bed. Because of me, she’s in this situation. All because of something I couldn’t control. What she thinks she saw never happened. But she wouldn’t listen to me. No matter how many times I’d tried to explain the situation, she would push me away, to the point she spun out of control.

  Joe Reynolds, Tori’s dad, steps out from the hospital room when he sees me looking at Tori through the glass. “She lost her scholarship.” He clutches a paper cup of coffee in his hands and sighs. “The school said she missed too much time. With her condition, she needs treatment. Some time off will do her good.”

  For some reason, Tori never told her father why she was so upset. She blamed it on school and stress, when we both know the real reason is me. And it sucks because I never did anything wrong. If only she would allow me to explain what she saw that night.

  “Did they say how long she has to stay?”

  Joe shrugs. “It all depends on Tori. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when she was thirteen.”

  “But she was so happy before.”

  With me.

  “She has manic episodes where she’s full of life and feels like she’s on top of the world. Other times, she’s so depressed she can’t even get out of bed. I went through this with her mother, too.”

  Her mom left when Tori was younger. She always spoke of her as if she hated her. Maybe it was because they were alike in some ways. I had no idea Tori was battling with mental illness until now. I wish she would have confided in me. I meant it when I told her I loved her, and I want to help her in any way I can. But now she hates me.

  My chest aches at the thought of Tori being in pain and hurting, all because of something that never should have happened. “Will she be okay?”

  “The hospitals, medicine, and psychiatrists are all part of it,” Joe says. “There’s no cure. But it can be treated with the right medicine. Getting Tori to take the pills is sometimes a problem. With her away at school, I knew it would be harder for her to keep up with it.”

  I shove my hands into my pockets and look over Joe’s shoulder at Tori. “Is there anything I can do to help her?”

  He shakes his head. “Not right now. The doctors will do their best to get her back on her feet. But she won’t be able to come back to school, and that’s going to hurt her more than anything. She really loved Strickland. Even with financial assistance, I can’t afford the tuition without the scholarship. I don’t make Ivy League kind of money at the steel mill.”

  I can’t have Tori, but I still care about her. She has to finish her degree at Strickland University. After working her ass off to get there, I can’t take this away from her.

  I pat Joe on the shoulder and force a smile for his benefit. It’s hard to be happy when I feel like shit about what I’ve done to the only girl I have ever loved. “I’ll take care of it. Let me handle the school. My family has a lot of connections.”

  The corners of Joe’s mouth turn up, his face beaming with delight. “I would be forever grateful for anything you can do to help Tori get back in good standing with the university.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  For Tori, I would do anything.

  “If I can get Tori’s scholarship back, I don’t want her to know I had anything to do with it.”

  “I won’t tell her,” Joe promises. “Well, I should get back in there with Tori. The hospital only allows one visitor at a time. When she wakes, she’ll want to see a familiar face.” He takes a sip from his coffee and thanks me once more before he disappears into the room, closing the door behind him.

  I stand there for a few seconds longer to get one last glimpse at Tori, knowing what I need to do to help her. It’s the one thing I know how to do.

  Chapter Two

  Two Years Later

  Tori

  Tonight is going to suck. I can feel it in my bones as I run down Broad Street, toward the Strickland University football stadium. Our school lives and dies by football. Between the Philadelphia Eagles and our college teams, the city comes alive on game nights.

  With the start of a new season, the air buzzes with electricity from the fans screaming. I’m not one of them. Football is not my thing. Neither is our star running back. At least that’s what I tell myself every time I run away from Bash. But he’s fast. Obviously. So, I don’t get far before he catches up to me, trying to plead his case for the thousandth time.

  “C’mon, Tori,” Jessica yells, pulling on my shirt. “I know the last person you want to see is Bash, but do this for me. It’s important I go to all of Clay’s games this year now that we’re together.”

  I slow my pace to check out a cute guy sitting on a bench in the Quad because I need a distraction for tonight. He was in one of my classes last year, though I can’t remember which one with how many I packed into my schedule so I can graduate on time.

  “For you,” I tell Jess. “But keep me as far away from Bash as possible. I’m not in the mood to deal with him.”

  “Did you remember to take your pills today?”

  I huff at her comment. “Yes, Mom. I took them this morning.”

  Ever since my mental breakdown two years ago, Jessica has been up my ass about taking my medicine. Like my mother, I was diagnosed as bipolar, and without treatment, I’m not quite myself. Bash was part of the problem, one I’ve tried to ignore since sophomore year.

  Joggin
g almost in place, I get up the nerve to raise my hand and wave to the boy who I think is Josh. Or maybe Justin. Either way, he’s hot. We can clear up the name situation later. Now that my senior year is finally beginning, I’m forcing myself to break out of my shell. This is a good start.

  “Stop checking him out. We’re gonna be late,” Jessica whines.

  I laugh at my best friend and roommate since freshman year and turn my head away from the hottie on the bench. “Let me ask him to come with us. Just hold on a second.”

  She still has a good grip on the Strickland football baby tee that rides up my stomach, exposing some of my flesh. The shirt is too small for me. It was free, and since I’m not much of a football fan, I didn’t want to pay for it. So, I stuffed my curvy ass into this size small shirt that has my boobs popping out of the V-neck.

  “We don’t have time. Let’s go! Clay will be pissed if I’m not in my usual seat at the start of the game, and I don’t feel like fighting with him tonight, of all nights.”

  Shrugging her off, I smile at Josh-Justin as he waves in my direction. I return the gesture and hope we will run into each other again. Preferably before the party tonight.

  “Fine,” I say to Jessica in a huff and jog next to her, dodging people on the street as we pass.

  If I can find someone to bring along with us to the party, my senior year will be off to a better start. I need a buffer when I step into the house that holds so many bad memories. Not only is this game important, but so is the massive party the football team throws every year at their house. It’s the kind of invite you die to get. Because an invitation by a team member means you’re one of the elite, part of the inner circle of sports royalty on this campus. I know from experience.

  Until Jessica had started dating Clay Summers last spring, I avoided football and anyone associated with it like the plague. My father is a big fan of the sport, but I loathe it because of one person. The boy who broke my heart freshman year. The asshole who also lives in the house I dread so much.

  Darting through the courtyard, I spot another boy who has the potential to make my ex-boyfriend jealous. If I don’t find someone good-looking enough to bring to this stupid party, I will look like an ass. I can’t have Bash see me alone when I have no doubt he will have a swarm of women surrounding him. Or worse, he’ll try to talk to me, same as usual. Then, I’ll have to play the catch me if you can game, where I look for ways to evade his charms.

  Jessica knows I have a legitimate concern about tonight, yet she still insists that I come along and put on a happy face. I have spent the last two years avoiding Bash. I only need to make it through the night.

  Shuffling past returning students, we’re almost at the football stadium. Like most prestigious schools, Strickland University has the pristine shine of an Ivy League campus. From the people to the statues of famous Philadelphians, the place oozes perfection and wealth. I’m one of the few who is here on a scholarship. Unlike these trust fund babies, I didn’t grow up with money. And I almost lost all of it because of Bash.

  Once we reach the gates, we stop to hold out our tickets to a man wearing a Strickland University polo shirt. He scans the bar code and says, “The game is already in progress. Be careful getting to your seats. You’re on the field.”

  “Shit,” Jessica moans, frowning in my direction. “You just had to stop and stare at that guy, didn’t you?”

  I snicker, now walking toward her, ignoring her previous comment. “You have a date to the party. I’m still looking for one in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Oh, I didn’t forget. How could I? You’ve only mentioned it to me a thousand times since you had agreed to come.”

  I sling my purse over my shoulder and laugh. “Please. I haven’t been that bad.”

  She peels strands of sweat-matted blonde hair from her face and shoves them behind her ears. “Yes, you have. Don’t even try to deny it. You’ve been driving me insane all week. After making it this long without speaking to Bash, you can make it through a game and a stupid jock party no problem.”

  A ball chaser to the core, she’s wearing a replica of her boyfriend’s jersey and dark blue eye shadow to match the color of the shirt. The jersey is so tight it could fit a child. She paired it with strappy sandals that show off her perfectly tanned legs and jean shorts that ride up her ass. Our tastes are similar, except I don’t date athletes. Not anymore.

  I was like her once. But my relationship with Bash had only lasted a few months before the incident that ruined everything. He destroyed what we had and for what? Now, he’s the hot shit star of our football team and can get any girl he wants. Since our break up, I don’t think Bash has kept a girl around for more than a weekend if that. We were never meant to be together. Coming from different worlds, the two never meshed. It just took me longer to figure that out than him.

  As the daughter of a former model, Jessica looks the part as the girlfriend of Clay Summers. She inherited her mother’s long lashes, perfect complexion, and rocking body. And, then there’s me. The artsy, giving zero fucks best friend who likes to dance in the Quad when it rains and do plenty of odd things that have made me an outcast at events like the one I have to attend tonight. I don’t fit in with these people. Never did.

  Jessica tugs on my hand, dragging me through the crowd of screaming fans. The stadium is on fire, brought to life by the energy of the people around us. Making our way through the throng, we start jogging again when Jessica hears Clay’s name over the loud speaker.

  We move so fast that my heart pounds out of my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, igniting a fire under my skin. Turnover. That’s the only word that registers in my head as we move along the sidelines to look for our seats. I have no idea if the call is on our team or our rivals. Either way, I could care less. I’m here for moral support. Nothing more.

  Oblivious to my surroundings, I drop my purse on the metal bench once we find our spot. Clay is so grossly in love with Jessica that he had our seats reserved. I pick up the piece of paper with my name on it, shaking my head. It’s cute, but I do hate jocks, even if this one, in particular, breaks the mold with how sweet he is when it comes to Jessica.

  Scaring the shit out of me, Jessica screams my name so loud I turn around to face the field. But I get more than what I was expecting. A thick wall of man comes barreling toward me, reaching for the football as it smacks me in the head It happens so fast that I don’t have time to brace myself for impact, and the sting from the edge of the ball causes me to touch my left cheek reflexively, as I fall backward.

  He somehow manages to slip his hand around me before I hit my head, but he can’t stop himself from landing on top of me, as we hit the ground together. As if thrown around like a ragdoll, my head and body hurt. I shut my eyes for a few seconds. Strong arms hold me tight, so tight, that I think he’s sucking the air from my lungs.

  When I open my eyes, I feel his hot breath on my face before I stare into his bright green irises.

  “Bash,” I mutter, out of breath, because he has always taken my breath away. That’s why I avoid him whenever possible.

  Up close, Bash is even more handsome than when he’s strutting around campus. Of all the people to knock me over, it had to be Sebastian Prince. His cocky grin makes my lip curl with revulsion even though he seems to have the opposite effect on my body. One glance from Bash was all it ever took to make my heart pound. Today is no different.

  He brushes my hair off my face to get a better look at my cheek. “Are you okay, Queenie?” His voice is deeper, sexier than I remember from the last time he approached me in class. We haven’t had many classes together since I’d made it a point to drop every class we shared over the years.

  It’s been so long since we’ve spoken to each other. What do I even say? He makes me nervous, always has.

  I blush ten shades of pink from my cheeks to my neck, distracted by the eye black smeared beneath his lower lids that draws even more attention to his eyes.


  When I don’t respond to Queenie, the nickname he had given me years ago, he chooses the name only close friends use when speaking to me.

  “Tori, can you hear me?” His voice is softer but still firm. “Say something.” He takes off his helmet and sets in on the ground next to him.

  “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore,” I say through clenched teeth. And I have always hated the name Queenie. It’s stupid—just like him. “Get off of me, Bash.”

  He doesn’t bother to move, just holds me with a firm grip and continues touching me, sending chills down my spine that leave tiny bumps on my skin.

  People hover over us, talking amongst themselves. But all I can focus on is the sound of my heart beating so loud I hear it pounding in my ears. My cheek burns from where the football struck me, and with Bash touching it, my skin is even more sensitive. His fingers are calloused from years of playing football, yet there’s still has a softness about him as he caresses my face.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” I croak out. “This was a stupid idea. A mistake.”

  He’s infuriating but beautiful. I can’t stop zoning in on his lips. He has nice lips. Every part of me wants to lean in, kiss him, and shove my fingers through his dark shaggy hair. To this day, no guy has ever affected me like Bash, which is why I need to get away from him. With tanned skin, chiseled features, and toned to perfection, he has the appearance of a fitness model. And he knows it. Owns it.

 

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