Looking to Score(10)

“Un-fucking-believable,” he snarled as he practically stomped out of the room.

I turned to follow, and the coach called my name and handed me a piece of paper.

“If you are going to have a snowball’s chance in hell, you are going to need this,” he said as he gave me a dismissive wave. After I left the coach’s office, I looked down and saw that he had given me a schedule of practices, games, and other various things that Oakley was expected to attend.

I started the walk back to my apartment when I spotted a cute little coffee shop. I figured one small skinny, low fat, no sugar latte wouldn’t hurt. I promised myself I would only drink half anyway, and I needed the caffeine boost if I was going to make it through the day. That would be sixty calories and eight grams of sugar. If I power walked, I could easily burn that off. After ordering, I sat down and loaded Oakley’s schedule into the new shared calendar that I had created on his phone earlier this morning, complete with alarms that would go off when he needed to start getting ready and when he needed to leave.

I immediately got a text, and when I saw Oakley’s name flash on the screen, I couldn’t help but think of him lying in his boxers this morning, and I could feel the heat creeping up my face.

Oakley: What the fuck did you just do?

I smiled to myself as I typed back.

Amanda: Oh good, you found where I programmed my info into your phone! And aren’t you supposed to be practicing?

I could almost see how pissed he was when his phone blew up with calendar notifications. Imagining him annoyed as hell gave me a deep sense of satisfaction. I didn’t wait for his response and sent another message.

Amanda: According to the schedule, your last practice gets out at 7:00 tonight, I’ll see you then.

I clicked the button to lock my screen and got up to head home, leaving my latte on the table untouched.





5





I was unstoppable. The universe was my fucking oyster. I was so tired that even the seven dollar concealer I splurged on two months ago couldn’t hide the dark circles under my eyes, and my hair was so full of dry shampoo it felt like a fire hazard, but nothing could get me down. Not a single thing.

In one day, I managed to get Oakley to practice and completely overhaul his Instagram image. Coach Howard even sent me half of a compliment via email at 10:06 in the morning. It was backhanded and attached to a formal request to stop emailing him updates, but I took the “good” and rolled with it.

Not to mention, Mr. Wednesday got me an advisory slot with Dr. Haynes. The Dr. Haynes. I was so stoked to be learning from the absolute best I could hardly contain my excitement. I was headed to a meeting with him right now.

My life felt like endless chips and salsa and a large pitcher of margaritas without the calories. It felt like having a good hair day minus the good hair. I was going to fucking rock this internship.

I didn’t know what the big fuss was. Oakley Davis was easy to handle, and I was totally slaying the first day of my internship. And now, I was going to impress the pants off of Dr. Haynes and get a kickass letter of recommendation from one of the leading experts in our industry.

Manifest that, motherfuckers. I couldn’t stop fist bumping the air.

I knocked on the door to Dr. Haynes’s office and smoothed my hair nervously while waiting for his invitation inside. I felt a flutter of nervousness and couldn’t wait to devour his brain. There was no shame in my zombie game.

“Come in.”

I twisted the handle and smiled.

Dr. Haynes’s office was smaller than I expected. The walls were lined in overflowing bookshelves, and his desk was organized chaos. It was cozy and helped to calm the rush of nervous excitement I was feeling. At least until I saw Dr. Haynes, that is. Holy. Shit. Seeing his pictures did not prepare me for this.

Even though he was sitting, I could tell that he was tall, at least six feet, and had a commanding presence. His thick silver hair was a little bit longer on the top than the sides and perfectly styled. I had a sudden impulse to run my fingers through it. His chin was dotted with salt and pepper stubble that played into his boyish charm. When he stood up to greet me, it was clear that his abs were rock hard under his button-down shirt and perfectly cut blazer.

“Hi. I’m Matthews. Amanda. Umm...Amanda Matthews,” I stammered. Great first impression. Super professional.

“Miss Matthews. Thank you for meeting with me this morning. I heard you had a late night,” he greeted me. Were the bags under my eyes really that bad? Just as I was silently cursing myself for not taking the extra five minutes to put on foundation, there was a knock on the open door, and Oakley burst in uninvited. What in the actual fuck was happening here? I thought this was a one-on-one meeting?

As Oakley shot me a smug look, Dr. Haynes said gravely, “Mr. Davis, thank you for joining us. I wanted to address your concerns with Miss Matthews so that we can all feel comfortable moving forward.” He gestured for us to sit in the chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

Shit. What? Shit. All of the confidence I had just moments before was gone. I didn’t know where this was going, but I knew it wasn’t good and the world was definitely not my fucking oyster anymore.

“Thank you, Dr. Haynes. I guess I just didn’t realize how personal having a PR rep was going to be,” Oakley replied in an equally somber tone. Even though I didn’t really know him, I could tell that he was laying it on extra thick.