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“Oh, no. She pretty much reamed me a new asshole for suggesting it.”
Zanko starts to laugh hysterically at this. “You mean she didn’t just kowtow to the king of the baseball mound?” he asks through his laughter.
“No, she didn’t even seem to know who I was.” My statement causes him to laugh harder. A loud thump suggests the bastard fell out of bed.
“I…I…I ne…need t…to meet…th…this girl,” he says between laughs.
“Fuck you!” I spit back at him, rolling over to face the wall, giving him my back, not that he can see me in the dark.
The sound of Zanko’s laughter has a soft smile stretching across my face, thinking of the outrage on Kassidy’s face when I expected her to just roll over and agree to my suggestion. She might just be a bright spot yet. Monday, I need to make this right. Kassidy is my lifeline this year. If she decides to tell me to fuck off, my major league career will be over before it even has a chance to start.
CHAPTER FIVE
The first day of class is always a crap shoot. Some teachers like to play hard-ass, passing out a syllabus and then immediately launching into a lesson. Other teachers like to spend the entire class going over each section of the syllabus in detail as if we aren’t supposed to be adults who can read and follow instructions.
Several times throughout the day, my thoughts drifted to various scenarios that could greet me later on in the library. That is assuming that Brock will show up on time and have his work ready to go.
Having a break for lunch, I am pleasantly surprised to find Kennedy and her guys waiting for me outside the dining hall. A smile breaks across my face at the sight of them. Kennedy and I exchange brief hugs. When we break apart, the guys usher us through the line to pick out food.
Finding a table, Kennedy and I sit next to each other as her guys argue about who gets to sit next to Kennedy. With her back to them, she faces me, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out at their argument. Both of us break into peals of laughter at it.
Gareth leans in, whispering something in her ear, causing Kennedy to blush. Ashton ends up sitting next to Kennedy, apparently having won the argument, as the rest of the guys fill in around the table. We each discuss how our morning classes went, followed up by what our afternoons look like.
Kennedy and I plan to do as much studying in the apartment this year as we can instead of always being in the library. That was, after all, part of the reason we opted to rent off-campus.
The table goes quiet, everyone staring at me. Confusion fills me before I feel heat at my back.
“Kassidy, will you meet me at the library for tutoring?” that seductive voice says from behind me.
Not trusting myself to speak, knowing, without looking, who the owner of that voice is, I merely nod in the affirmative.
Brock disappears, and all five of my roommates turn, giving me varying degrees of strange looks. Ignoring them to the best of my ability, I concentrate on my lunch.
My stomach is tied up in knots. The afternoon seemed to fly by as I dreaded what the evening had in store. Since Brock and I didn’t discuss his class schedule on Saturday, it is unknown what time he will be in the library.
Biting the bullet, as soon as my last class lets out, I make my way across campus. Unease pools in my belly, and my feet drag as I get closer to the library. Reaching our assigned study area, I am startled to find Brock already there. Stiffening my spine, refusing to let him see how much being around him affects me, I place my bag on the table, taking a seat next to Brock.
“I wasn’t sure if you were coming,” he says, running his hand over the back of his neck.
Confusion crosses my face, “You asked me at lunch. I told you that I would be here.” Deciding to move past some of the bullshit that is going on between us, I grab an empty notebook, and pen from my backpack, turning to face Brock.
“Since we didn’t get a plan in place on Saturday, we need to make a study plan before we do anything else,” my tone is brisk, still annoyed at the fact he was late and then his blasé attitude about how this was going to go.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, letting out a relieved breath. “What do you need to know?”
“Your class information. I will need copies of your schedule, including the teacher’s name and, if they have a teacher’s aide, their name as well. You also need to make me copies of the syllabuses they gave you today,” my words hang in the air. Brock isn’t writing anything down.
“What?” he asks, staring at me with my arms crossed over each other, my elbows resting on the tabletop.
“Aren’t you going to pull any of the stuff I just asked for out?” He is getting the better of me, and my voice is getting loud. Taking a deep breath to center myself, I let it out slowly.
Brock says nothing, and we sit in silence, staring at each other. After several long minutes, I pull my own work from my bag, deciding to make the best of being in the library.
Ignoring Brock as he stares at the side of my head, I start reviewing the reading list. My first English paper is due in two weeks. Trying to decide between Shakespeare or Austen, Brock clears his throat.
“What do you want from me?” he bites out.
Tossing my pen down on the table, glaring at him, I whisper-yell. “You need to take this seriously. I couldn’t care less if you play ball or not. This is your education, and you need to makean effort. I am not going to do your assignments for you and can’t help you if you don’t tell me what your classes are or what assignments are due.”
