Page 10 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
“Uh…how does a prof have anything to do with you and Slade?”
“Slade’s in my Entrepreneurship class this semester. And Professor Taylor had this brainchild that he’d randomly stick students into pairs for this project that’s worth thirty-five percent of the grade.”
“Okay. So what?”
“Guess who I’m stuck with?”
“No…you and…” she pointed back and forth between me and the field, indicating Slade.
“Yep.”
“Holy hell that’s great!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Miranda? Did you miss the part where I said this project’s worth a third of the final grade?”
A dreamy glaze coming over her eyes. “I think it’s a good thing.”
“Yeah, no. That’s not exactly how I’d put it. And Dr. Taylor refused to let anyone switch. Trust me, I begged. And then Slade was all gloating after the prof said no. It’s like he’s been waiting for this chance to drive me nuts.”
She stared off into the field, seeming to study Slade as he ran through drills with the rest of the team. “I don’t know, Cassidy. He’s not so bad.” She spoke as if in a trance.
“He’s a pig,” I reiterated. “Another cocky jock strutting around here thinking he’s God’s gift to women.”
“Hey, go easy now. Maybe working with someone like Slade will loosen you up a bit. You know? Teach you to have a little fun every once in a while.” She paused and stood up, turning to me with her hand on her groin area. “Wait, wait! Maybe he can teach you how to appreciate what he’s packing.”
“You’re disgusting,” I teased, but really, I couldn’t blame her. If the physical was all I had been looking for in a man, someone like Slade would have been perfect. His body was chiseled like a masterpiece made of stone, and he had the kind of charm and confidence many women just melted over. I’d watched him on the field.
“I’m thinking I’ll just do the project myself and put his name on it,” I added. “That way he gets the credit he needs for the assignment, and I don’t have to work with him. It’s a win-win. He of all people should see that.”
“What the hell, Cassidy? Why are you so insistent on avoiding that guy? What are you not telling me?” Miranda asked.
“Nothing. Really. He’s an ass and I don’t need the headache. Simple as pie.”
“You despise him so much you’ll do all that work yourself?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if ‘despise’ is exactly the right word…but it’s pretty damn close. Think of it this way. If I do it myself, then the project won’t take away from his practice schedule. Everyone knows those guys are only here to play ball. He’s even getting some dummy degree in sports management so that he can stay close to the game even if he can’t play personally.”
“He’s going pro when he leaves here, though. Isn’t he? I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Oh I’m sure he is. He’s probably got all the top agents fighting over him already. They’d be stupid not to. Even Shawn can’t stop bragging about his big brother being one of the best out there.” I paused, watching the boys on the team do a few warmup exercises. “I think that’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell him the good news so he’s off the hook from the work, put his name on the finished product, and maybe coach him on what to say during any presentations we have to deliver. That way, he doesn’t have to think about the work, and I don’t have to be bothered with him.”
“I don’t know,” Miranda cautioned. “I get the feeling Slade’s not going to go for that, Cassidy.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll see.” I thought it sounded like a great deal for him, but I couldn’t help but acknowledge that there was the outside chance she was right.
The cheerleading coach and team captain walked on the side field just then.
“Sorry we’re late, girls, but why the heck are you not running through the routines?” Coach Green hollered. “All right, let's start with the double pike basket toss. And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three…”
I tried not to let my concerns over working with Slade get in the way of practice as I was tossed around by several of the male cheerleaders. Some days it felt like all we did was get thrown around instead of working on any individual routines. One of the things I liked about cheerleading was that it took a lot of concentration to make everything work, but the end result was supposed to look graceful and effortless.
Gail, the team captain took over from there as the coach left again. “Who said you could stop? Keep going, girls! Ok. Do it again, from the top. And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, four…”
Although I was in my final year, I was officially still in third year. That was why I hadn’t quite made it to the Purple Squad, our elite team open only to senior cheerleaders. These ladies were the ones who would probably show up on NFL sidelines one day, or hanging off the arms of the pro football players. I wanted none of that, so I settled for the middle team called the Red Squad, even if I was as good as any of the other girls and probably could have used my senior status to get me in Purple Squad.
It was enough that I was a cheerleader at a university known for its football program, in a city that worshipped the game. It could do two things for me when I graduated college. First, it would look good on a resume that I had devoted my time to something beyond my studies, especially as that something was valued by so many prospective employers in the state. Second, it would buy me a little recognition among fans of my team who also happened to own businesses, or headed up Human Resources Departments, or made hiring decisions. For me, that was what the cheerleading squad was all about. It gave me some college cred while I was enrolled, and a leg up on the competition out in the real world, literally. That’s what I hoped.
As practice wrapped up, I saw that Slade had made his way over to the bleachers near where we were practicing. As usual, the groupies surrounded him immediately. Even the team captain let our routine wrap up so we could all bask in Slade’s glow. This sort of distraction was why we usually practiced in our own facility. We needed to be focused to make it look good on Saturday night. And the better we looked, the better the team looked. While the other girls drooled over him, he was watching me like a hawk—probably still gloating from our Entrepreneurship deal. I couldn’t deny that it felt strangely satisfying to have him pay that extra attention to me over the other girls, even if he didn’t have a chance in hell with me.
