Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)
Rebecca Jenshak
BLURB
I have a type.
I love the good guy.
Responsible and stable. Safe.
So when a beer-drinking, quick-witted, tattooed hockey player asks me to tutor him, I'm suddenly thrust into the world of bad boys and bad decisions.
Jordan is a renowned player on campus.
He doesn’t take anything seriously, except hockey and partying.
But he gives me butterflies.
I’m a wallflower tutoring Valley University’s hottest player.
For all the quiet girls. I hear you.
PROLOGUE
DAISY
“Would you come down from there?” Violet yells up from the ground. My cousin isn’t the biggest fan of heights or rickety ladders. “You’re going to catch pneumonia or an airborne STD.”
“They won the game,” I say with a quick glance down at her.
She’s standing on the lowest rung, neck craning up to see over the fence into our neighbor’s yard. “Who cares? Win, lose, they party just the same.”
She might talk like she’s immune to the fun next door, but I’ve caught her wistfully staring out her bedroom window a time or two in that direction.
“They look so happy.”
From my spot in this old tree house, I have a perfect view of the backyard next door. A small group of girls dance in the grass to a catchy, upbeat song. In another area, guys huddle together playing cornhole. Others are in the heated pool, splashing and playing. Everyone else is hanging out on the large patio that spans the back of the sprawling house.
The alcohol is flowing, and the atmosphere is so happy and light that the air even feels different this close.
“The night is young, and they’re buzzed. Of course, they’re happy.” Vi’s tone is all indifference. “Give it a few hours, and people will be so drunk the happiness will dim.”
She’s wrong. At least once a week, I sit up here watching them drink and laugh, and I can attest that they leave as happy as they came.
“Come on,” she whines. “You promised we’d finish Pride and Prejudice tonight.”
I smother a groan but do remember agreeing to that plan before I realized there was a party happening next door. I’m not even cool enough to know about parties, let alone be invited.
“Five more minutes.”
“Fine. I’ll make popcorn.” Her voice moves away from the tree house. “If you aren’t inside when I hit play, you’re on trash duty for the rest of the month.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.” The wind blows my hair around my face. I untie the flannel shirt from my waist and slip it on, then hug my knees to my chest and drop my chin to rest on my arm.
Three months ago, I moved in next door to the hottest party spot at college with Violet and two other friends, Jane and Dahlia.
The White House, as it’s called, is aptly named, not only because of its size and color but because the epic parties thrown here are the college version of being asked to dine with dignitaries or royalty. Or, I’m guessing, since the closest I’ve come to attending a party there is watching from my favorite nook on the other side of the property line.
The starting lineup for the university’s men’s basketball team lives next door, but it’s an all-inclusive place to be for the elite population on campus—members of Greek life, jocks of the top sports, stunningly gorgeous girls, and him.
Liam Price—hockey player, junior, engineering major.
We have a physics class together this semester, so I know the tilt of his shoulders as he leans back in his seat, the way he chews on the end of his pen when he’s thinking, and that his friends sometimes call him Dreamboat as a way to tease him about his neatly styled blond hair and preppy clothes.
Tonight he’s sitting with his teammates on the side of the patio closest to me. The guys he’s with are drinking one cup of foamy beer after another, but not Liam. Like many other nights I’ve watched him, he holds a water bottle in one hand. He laughs and talks along with his buddies, but as they get drunk and loud, his calm and put-together presence never wavers.
My pulse races as a pretty girl approaches his circle of friends. The way she waltzes up to a group of guys with such confidence and ease is truly inspiring. He unfolds his tall frame, offering his seat to the newcomer. She smiles and places a hand on his forearm, then gushes something I can’t hear over the party noise before taking his chair.
Did I mention he’s a gentleman?
He drains the rest of his water and looks around the party. Sometimes I think he doesn’t feel like he fits in either. Still, he’s on that side of the fence.
My breath hitches when his gaze lifts to the tree house across the property line, but as soon as I think he’s seen me, his stare continues on.
Invisibility is my superpower. Except I can’t turn it off. For three months, he’s looked in my direction without seeing me.
“Daisy!” Violet yells from the back door. I’d take the trash out every month until the end of time if I thought sitting up here and studying my popular peers would get me any closer to being one of them.
With a sigh, I take one last longing look at everything I’m missing out on and then start down the ladder. My Saturday night plans include watching Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy for at least the third time this semester. Violet has a thing for Austen, and I have a thing for romance and optimism, so I don’t mind so much. I prefer the Matthew Macfadyen version, though.