Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(50)

Eight, I guess.

Wrong again, sweet Daisy. The picture shows a ten of hearts.

Last shot, he texts. And, Higher or lower?

Lower.

Final answer?

I picture him at the party, sitting at a table, probably carrying on a conversation with his friends while texting me.

Statistically, the odds are in my favor.

He sends the picture of the jack of diamonds first, then a selfie of him flipping off the camera. I stare at it for a long time. His giant smirk aimed at me, eyes twinkling, backward hat, and scruff still going strong.

Looks like it’s Fuck Daisy instead. ;) I take a picture of me holding up my drink. I chug for three seconds and then send another text, I think I’d rather us both be f’ed.





21





JORDAN





I fell asleep texting Daisy. I invited her over, but it’s probably better she didn’t make it because I’m not sure I could have made good on the sexy things I was texting her all night. Though I happily would have tried.

And I absolutely cannot have sex with her until I talk to Liam and tell him what’s going on with Daisy and me. It’s been weighing on me all week.

Liam’s in the living room, picking up when I come out of my room.

“Hey.” I glance around the small space. It’s become a bit of a disaster area with all the practices, games, studying, and partying. “You got a minute?”

“Have you seen my phone charger?” He lifts a blanket from the couch.

“No, but I have an extra you can use.” I run into my room to get it and bring it back.

“Thanks.” He sits on the couch and plugs it into the nearest outlet. “I must have left it at the hotel.”

“I’m usually the one leaving shit behind,” I say as I grab a Powerade and have a seat with him. I have no idea how to broach the subject of Daisy, and my palms are sweaty. If Liam says he still likes her, I can’t see her anymore (which will fucking suck). But it doesn’t take back what I’ve already done. He might hate me for that.

He lets out a long breath and sinks into the cushion. “Man, I have never looked forward to winter break more than this year.”

We only get a week because of games and practice, but most of the guys are excited about some time off to visit family and let their bodies rest.

“Yeah,” I say, but I don’t really mean it.

Going home and this time of year specifically remind me of Mark. It was an awful December night over break my freshman year that he died. Try as I might, I can’t seem to feel the same excitement over visiting family and friends for the holidays anymore.

Friends from high school will be partying, and my family has big get-togethers. It’s basically going to be a week of nonstop partying.

I’ll attend all of it, putting on a happy face and trying to enjoy it like I know Mark would have. He was the life of the party, always smiling and having a good time. I swore after he died that I’d aim to live my life the same way, and in general, I’ve made good on that; but I know that week I’m home, I’ll be faking it and counting down the days to return to Valley.

Liam’s phone comes alive, and he sets it down next to him. “I’m going to shower and then head to the library to study for finals.”

He stands and then pauses. “Wait, did you say you needed something?”

“Nah. I’ll catch you later.”

I’ll tell him another time. Let him at least get through finals before I add to the stress.





It’s in the last week of the semester that I realize how busy my schedule is. I’ve never tried to fit in spending time with a girl. Though I doubt she needs it, Daisy studies hard for her classes, and that’s especially true for her final exams.

I meet up with her in the library one afternoon after practice. She’s got her dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she twists the end around a finger as she reads. She’s wearing her daisy charm necklace today and it always makes me smile.

When she glances up to find me staring, she grins. “You’re supposed to be studying.”

“Oh, I am.”

“I need to go find another resource book.” She stands, and I automatically push to my feet.

Laughing, she slows her steps to let me catch up. I follow her to the back corner of the library where books line tall shelves. She stops and lets her fingers trail over the spines of the books. I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and place a kiss on her neck.

While tilting her head to give me better access, she pulls out a book and opens it. “I have to finish studying.”

I bite her playfully. “What are you working on?”

“An essay on Thoreau for my final in American Lit.”

I take the book and flip it open. Then I read from the biography. “American philosopher, poet, and environmental scientist. Best known for his book, Walden and his essay, Civil Disobedience.” I close it with a snap. “Sounds riveting. I can think of a better way to fill the time.”

I sweep my lips over hers and back her up against the shelves. Her hands slide under my T-shirt and along my stomach muscles. The girl likes my abs.

“Born in Massachusetts in 1817. He attended Harvard College,” she recites.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, kissing up the column of her neck. “Tell me more about Thoreau, beautiful.”