Exception (Cambria University Series Book 1)

by Sadie T. Williams

  I’m able to re-focus, and we win the second game six to two. Sawyer Finnegan, our senior, pitches a solid game two. She isn’t the stud that Coco will be, but she’ll get quality innings in as our number two.

  I played well again. Three for three with a walk and three more stolen bases. I was shooting for six, but I’ll take seven and credit Brooks’ presence with the bonus. I know every game won’t be as easy as it was today – I felt extra energy today, until my dad sucked the air out of the stadium. Thursday will be a better test, and hopefully my dad will get the hint and not return.

  As soon as I record the final out, an easy ground out, and toss it over to first base, I hurry through the line to shake the hands of the players from UNC and bolt for the dugout. Blaire saw my dad too. She’s the only person I’ve ever truly opened up to about my family drama. Watts and Duncan just know we don’t get along. They know he flaunts his celebrity which makes me uncomfortable, but they don’t know how fucked up he made my mom. I’m hoping Brooks doesn’t notice him. I had planned to eventually tell him who my dad is, but I didn’t want him to find out like this.

  I sit in the clubhouse and wait. After all these years, I know he’ll wait a maximum of thirty minutes for me. Thirty minutes is just enough time to sign autographs, but not appear “washed up” and desperate for attention. He taught me that when I was six. Any longer and he feels like people will view him as easily accessible, and he would never be caught waiting for me. “I don’t wait for people, Kiernan, people wait for me.” He doesn’t want people to know I’m avoiding him either, so eventually he’ll just leave, rather than wait it out.

  “We got you, KK.” Blaire smiles as she gets ready to head out. She’s changed and ready to head out with Bateman.

  “Yeah, babe, I’ll text you to let you know if he’s gone. Love you,” Watts calls as she heads out too.

  Soon, it’s just me sitting in the locker room. I start undressing and slip into my travel warm-up. Black Golden Knights sweatpants, a dri-fit GK t-shirt, and gold three-quarter zip pullover. I start to remove my eye black, still stalling. The rest of the players went to meet their parents, significant others or friends who came to the game. Not me – I’m hiding. It pisses me off that he ruined this for me. My first game in front of Brooks and he ruined it. I should have known. My phone dings to alert me to a text message. It is from Blaire.

  “Hey, good news and bad news. Which u want first?”

  “Good news.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Okay, bad news…”

  “Don’t kill him, but Tanner introduced Brooks to your dad.”

  “WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!”

  “He didn’t know. I never told him about your family stuff. Don’t h8 him, please. I’m soooooooooo sry.”

  “FML. I don’t hate him. Not his fault. My dad ruins everything without even trying.”

  “Tanner says he’s sry. He didn’t know you didn’t want Brooks mtg your dad. Brooks was super jacked after your games tho. Like he was proud or some shit.”

  “Did he fanboy over my dad tho?”

  “Yeah…….. he’s a football player, KK. He watched your dad growing up. Remember, Tanner did the same thing. He doesn’t think of you any differently now. Brooks will be fine. He liked you before he knew who your dad was. He’s still waiting for you. You should go out. It’s been almost an hour.”

  “Thanks, B. I’ll see ya at home later. <3”

  Chapter 9: Brooks

  This was legitimately the longest practice of my life. Even when I was four or five I don’t remember counting down the minutes until practice was over like I am today. I’ve never seen the softball team play. We hear the news on campus about all the sports team, so I know they’re really fucking good, but it just never crossed my mind to attend a game. Until today.

  I’m in the locker room, showered, and ready to go. My roommates are moving like molasses in Minnesota in January. “Dude, hurry the eff up!” I shout at Bateman as I’m leaving the locker room. For having a girlfriend on the squad, he’s sure taking his sweet ass time.

  “Dude,” he replies with some attitude, “game two won’t start for another half hour. Chill out, man. You assholes do this to me all the time. Payback is a bitch.” He starts laughing while I continue to pace in front of my locker.

  “Lovesick puppy over here can’t wait to see his un-girlfriend girlfriend,” Rhodes chimes in.

  “That’s not even a fucking word, douchebag,” I retort. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “She’s not your girlfriend, yet,” Bateman emphasizes.

  “You know I don’t date. Rule number two. We’re just hanging out.”

  “That’s dating, bro,” Bateman snickers.

  “Sure, you’re telling me you haven’t hit that ass yet?” Blake asks. “She’s hot AF and you’ve been doing nothing this whole time? Good one.” I swear to God, I am going to hit him one of these days. I could get one punch in before Blake killed me.

  I’m sure all of my roommates, and every male on campus, except Bateman who knows what’s been going on, really want to know what’s up. Kiernan and I have been spending a lot of time together, which is odd behavior for me. I don’t even have frequent flyer jersey chasers. If I bag a girl once, that’s it. No repeats. Repeats lead to fairytale ideas of happily ever after and being an NFL wife. I’ve also never had unprotected sex in my life. Even if a chick swears she’s on the pill, I’m not risking knocking her up. Some girls will purposely try to get knocked up by players to try to secure their future. My dad warned me about that when I first started getting heavily recruited in high school. I always follow the rules.

  Bateman is my closest friend in the world. He knows everything about Rhett and Rhea, my goals, and my love life. He doesn’t judge and usually offers pretty solid advice. I’ve talked to him about Kiernan a few times. He knows I haven’t even attempted to kiss her and that I truly do like spending time with her. For dating Kiernan’s best friend, he knows remarkably little about her though. She doesn’t date either, she’s obliviously to guys’ inquiries, she isn’t a lesbian and she is fucking chill as hell.

  “Shut up, asshole,” Bateman glares at Blake. “That’s none of our business.”

  “Right, because you didn’t tell us the dirty details of the first night you bagged Blaire at the party,” Blake lashes back.

  Uh. Oh.

  “FUCK YOU!” Bateman shouts. Rhodes grabs him as he lunges at Blake. “You know B and I didn’t start out the best, but we’re here now and I love her. So shut your fucking mouth, Blake!”

  Blake laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “Okay, man, calm down. We all know how you feel about B.” Blake would kill Bateman in a fight, but he knows that would be bad for our team. He’s is our hardest hitting linebacker. He’s freakishly strong, fast and a mean son of a bitch. When he lowers his body to hit you, be prepared to feel like you got hit by a small bus. Bateman has Blake by at least three inches, but it wouldn’t matter. Blake is fucking crazy and doesn’t give a damn about the consequences of his actions unless it will fuck with football.

  “This is too much male bonding for me,” Rhodes announces. “Let’s go already. I want to see what these softball pants are all about.”

  “Ever the gentleman, Rhody,” I reply and smack him on the back.

  Bateman drives his truck, Blake and Rhodes ride together in Blake’s truck, and I ride my Harley. Bateman will go back to Blaire’s place, and I’m hoping that Kiernan will want to hang out after the game.

  We arrive just before the team takes the field for the second game and we find seats right behind the CU dugout. I see Kiernan run out. She looks so different, so in her element. She has a swagger about her on the field that she doesn’t have off of it. She’s much more intense and has a little bit of cockiness, which is refreshing.

  They’re having a black out day – she has her pant legs pulled up just under her knees, and her lower legs are covered in black socks down to her black cleats. Her
caramel hair is parted down the middle with one French braid on each side of the part. The two braids meet at the base of her neck and are braided together in some kind of fancy braid that I don’t have a name for. Her black eyes and dark lashes are accented by the two stripes of eye black under each eye. She has a glittery gold headband on too. Their jerseys are embossed with big gold letters across the chest that read “GOLDEN KNIGHTS” and on the back it reads “KELLY” with the number “22” underneath it. She looks so badass.

  “Well fuck me sideways. If I would have known asses look that good in softball pants, I would have come out here a long time ago. I may need a bathroom break,” Rhodes says with a laugh as he tugs at the crotch of his jeans. He may be serious though. Kiernan’s ass looks fine in those pants.

  The game progresses and Kiernan absolutely dominates it. The basketball team repeatedly cheers, “KELL-LEE! KELL-LEE!” all game and I want to punch every one of them in the face. The defense can’t stop her. She is so blazing fast. If the defense moves up, she swings, if they move back, she bunts. The catcher knows that Kiernan is going to steal and still can’t throw her out. She just isn’t good enough. They can’t do anything about it. That must be frustrating. I think Kiernan scores four of the Golden Knights’ six runs.

  “Jesus, Mac, your chick is better than most of the baseball team,” Blake says as we’re getting up to leave. He wants me to admit that Kiernan and I are together, so he’s using every chance he has to call her my girl, lady, girlfriend or something along those lines.

  “She’s pretty damn good. So fucking fast,” I reply without acknowledging the fact he called her my chick again. “B had a great game too, Bateman,” I say to try to give someone else some credit. He doesn’t respond. He looks like a deer in headlights.

  “Hey!” I snap my fingers in front of his face.

  “Shut up, dude,” he says, “Look.” I look up to where Bateman is staring and I see him. John fucking Kelly. My jaw hits the pavement. Blake and Rhodes finally see him too, and they are just as stunned.

  “What the hell is John Kelly doi—” It hits me. John Kelly. Kiernan Kelly. Oh. My. God. That’s why she’s such a stud and knows more about football than some of my teammates. She learned from the best of the best.

  Bateman assesses my reaction. “You honestly didn’t know? She never mentioned the fact her dad is the G.O.A.T.? What the fuck do you guys talk about?” he says as he shakes head at me. “Come on, I’ll introduce you douches. Just don’t fanboy over him and embarrass me.”

  “It never came up,” I reply. She hid that tidbit of info from me. “Wait, you’ve met him already?” I ask, trying to hide the disbelief in my voice. How has he met him and never mentioned it to me? He knows my dad and John Kelly were in the league together. He knows that John Kelly is on the list of my top ten favorite players of all time. I grew up idolizing him. He’s the reason I wanted to be a quarterback and not a wide receiver like my dad. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t know. I assumed you knew. I met him last year when he came to the ‘Bama game. Kiernan introduced me after. I went all crazy on him. It was not my finest moment. I think I even drooled a little because I forgot how to swallow. He was super cool though. Autographed my program for me.”

  As we approach, I am trying my hardest to remain calm. My idol, all six-foot-five of him, is standing in front of me. His black eyes remind me of Kiernan’s. She inherited a lot of his traits, but not his size. I’m not small, at six-four and 220 pounds, but he’s bigger than I am. He’s wearing a CU softball t-shirt, ripped jeans, and running shoes. His black hair is shaved on the sides, but the top is grown out about chin length and slicked back. He looks badass, like his daughter.

  “Mr. Kelly, I’m Tanner Bateman. We met la—” Bateman begins and John holds up his hand to tell him to stop talking.

  “I know who you are, son,” John says with a pearly white grin that spreads across his face. “You’re dating my baby girl’s best friend, right? You’re pretty good on the gridiron from what I remember.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bateman squeaks in reply. “Um, these are my friends. We all play football. Rhodes is a running back, Blake is a linebacker, and McCarthy is our—”

  “Starting QB,” John cuts him off, again. “You have the presence and look of a QB, son. I would guess you’re pretty damn good just by looking at you, but I follow your team, so I already know your stats and who your daddy is. Are you going pro next year?”

  I’m so caught off guard by his forceful nature and intrusive questions, I pause.

  “Better get over being star-struck, son.” He flashes me a smile, as if he’s enjoying watching me squirm in his presence. “You’re gonna be playing with the big boys one day, and you’ll need more confidence and moxie than that.”

  “Um, thank you, sir,” I manage and snap back to reality. John is kind of an ass. He thinks I’m soft. He doesn’t know me. “I’m flattered by your assessment of my physique. It is not every day I get checked out by a Hall of Famer.”

  “That’s better,” he says as he doubles over in laughter.

  “I’m not declaring for the draft next season. I want to win at least one national title. I have a long time to play yet, God willing, and I want to enjoy my time.”

  “Just make sure you don’t get hurt. I am surprised your daddy would allow that,” he says, almost condescendingly. He doesn’t agree with my decision, and I hate the way he refers to Rhett as my daddy. “You boys have stuff you want me to sign before I head out?”

  The guys have him sign their shirts, shoes, and hats. They ask him a bunch of questions about his glory days and he seems to be eating it up. Arrogant prick. That saying is true, never meet your idol.

  The girls are starting to come out from the clubhouse. My boys take off and I’m standing by the fence, still waiting. I want to text Kiernan, but I don’t want to rush her. I’m not sure what’s taking her so long. Maybe she’s showering before we hang out. Then I hear a “ding” and check my phone. It’s a text from Bateman.

  “Don’t leave. She’s coming. B says she won’t come out until she knows JK is gone”.

  “K. I’m still here. I’ll w8.”

  That’s interesting. She’s avoiding her dad. Just then, she emerges from the dugout. She’s in her travel gear, eye black is gone, but the braids are still in her hair. Her black eyes have the slightest pink ring around them. She may have been crying. I smile as she walks over and out of nowhere she drops her bag and flings herself into my arms. I stumble backwards for a brief second, because she caught me off guard, but I regain my composure and squeeze her tight. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around my waist and wraps her arms tighter around my neck now that she can fully reach me.

  My whole body is tingling and I inhale her sweet scent. This time she smells like vanilla and a little bit of sweat. Even her sweat smells heavenly. Her body feels divine against my chest. I can feel her breasts rising and falling against me with each breath she takes. Her face is buried into the side of my neck and I feel the heat from her breath. My skin broke out in goosebumps and I feel like I have butterflies floating around in my stomach. I tuck my arms under her luscious ass and just hold her. This isn’t how I thought this would go, but I’m not moving until she does. I could stay this way forever. When she finally lifts her head and unhooks her legs from waist I set her back down on the ground.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry about that. I just needed a hug,” she whispers and looks down at the ground as if she’s embarrassed.

  “For what? I should thank you,” I reply with a smile. I put my hand on her chin and lift it so she is looking at me in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to touch you since the moment I met you. You could be on our team with the way you hit.” I try to joke about the way she almost toppled me over.

  She tries to smile. “Sorry, but thanks for the hug,” is all she says.

  “Do you still want to hang out?” I ask. I don’t dare mention her dad after Bateman’s cryptic text
, and my hope to spend more time with her is fading as I watch her expression stay solemn. She doesn’t appear to be in a mood to spend time with anyone, let alone me.

  “I do, I really do,” she says softly, “but I may not be good company tonight.”

  “Bullshit. Let’s go. Operation Cheer You Up is on!”

  “Operation Cheer You Up, really?” she smirks.

  “Yeah, so I’m not creative, but you smiled, so it’s obviously working already.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever you want, gorgeous. You hungry? It burns a lot of calories kicking that much ass. Or if you need more physical contact I am happy to provide that as well.” I wink.

  “I’m always hungry.” She forces another smile, completely ignoring the other offer. Another reason she’s so different. She admitted she was hungry. What other chick does that? Some of my boys have told me about dates they went on where the girl didn’t order anything at all. They went out to dinner and she didn’t even order dinner. That behavior is confusing as shit to us men.

  “Me too, babe. Let’s go off campus.”

  “Nachos?”

  “Is that the go-to cheer up food?”

  “Yeah, don’t tell anyone. That’s my ‘eat-my-feelings’ main dish.”

  “Well I know just the place. You like Cha-Chi’s Cantina?” I ask. She nods.

  We walk to the parking lot and Kiernan asks, “Where’s your truck?” The parking lot is fairly empty, so she’s probably looking for the vehicle we rode in the first time we were together.

  “I didn’t drive it here,” I say and shoot her a devilish grin.

  “Brooks, you know I don’t have a car,” she replies. Which I find odd now that I know her dad is John Kelly. He was the league’s highest-paid quarterback for many years, he still has endorsement deals, and is a motivational speaker. He has enough money to buy her a car. Prick.