Page 3 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
2
Cassidy
The first dayof class after the first game was like the first day of fall or spring. The air was suddenly charged with a new life and excitement that hadn’t been there just a few days before. Attending a university with a proud football heritage in the Deep South, there was always a certain base level of team spirt on and off campus. But the first day back after the start of football season was something special. That team spirit was suddenly revitalized and ignited like a fire.
I woke up before my alarm, ready to embrace the real start of my last year. I was a third year senior, about to finish my business degree a year early, after taking classes non-stop since the day I walked in as a freshman. That meant a lot of coordination, a full course load every semester, and sticking around for summer courses. It was a tough slog, but it was about to pay off.
My best college friend and roommate, Miranda, was still sleeping, but a few minutes later her alarm went off. A pale hand with chipped black nail polish stretched out from under her sheets and tapped the snooze button before retreating back into the warm comfort.
I walked across the room and shook her by her shoulder. “Time to get up, Miranda,” I whined mockingly.
Her covers slid down to reveal her hot pink hair and messy black eyeliner from two nights ago, no less. The girl should have been getting a Master’s degree in shuteye.
“What day is it?” she croaked.
“It’s Monday morning. Get up. Time for coffee and first day of class,” I reminded her.
“Why the hell are you so damn hyper?”
“I didn’t get much rest all day yesterday.Somebodywas a bit loud and hungover.”
“Yeah, and I think I might still be.” She pulled the covers down the rest of the way, squinting at the clock as she sat up in her bed. “Do I have time for a shower first?”
“Yeah,” I said with a shrug.
I gathered everything I needed for this morning’s classes, thinking about what this year meant to me. It was also my last year as a cheerleader. I’d been doing that gig all through high school and college, following in my mother’s and older sister’s footsteps. That was where our similarities ended, because there would be no more cheerleading in my future, unlike them. Personally, I was looking forward to the end of hearing cocky jocks try to get me to sleep with them because the cheerleading squad was supposed to be their own private supply of ass, ready to build team morale at the drop of a pair of pompoms—or a pair of panties. Take your pick.
I’d managed to avoid all of them so far. I was determined not to end up like my mom or my older sister, Caroline. My dear mother had hooked up with my dad right after high school, and together they had ridden the football-cheerleader couple wave, clichés and all, right up to today. My sister, Caroline took the baton from Mom and used her professional cheerleading career—if you could call it that—to snag an NFL player. I figured it could have been worse. She could have ended up with some used up has-been high school athlete who just sat around remembering his glory days and drinking himself to death. Either way, I wanted a career of my own, and I was on my way there. Cheerleading was almost over for me.
Miranda came back from the shower only a little more alive than she’d been when she went in. She quickly threw on fresh black eyeliner and a clean carbon copy of her all-black outfit. Miranda was an odd one, but I loved her to pieces. I’d only known her for as long as we’d been in college, yet we were so close now. She was from Massachusetts, and we’d been roommates the whole time.
She was originally doing a double major in history and anthropology, and at some point in first year, she became obsessed with folklore, paranormal and occult studies, and pretty much anything surrounded by superstition or mythology. Her clothes had grown progressively darker each school year, and I often teased her that if they ever found a color darker than black, she’d probably wear it. Hell, knowing Miranda, she’d try to become it.
Still, freaky or not, oddball or not, we were best friends, and we stuck together.
“You ready?” I asked as she finished lacing her knee-high leather boots.
“Yep. I must get some brew in me.” She stood up cautiously and wavered a little. “Definitely double dark roast,” she added after steadying herself on me.
I laughed, and we left our dorm arm in arm, heading up the main campus walkway to the closest coffee shop. Campus was alive with students and faculty busily making their way to and from their classes and offices. It was a bright fall morning. The heat and humidity were finally starting to lessen, and the light had begun to change to that beautiful golden hue of autumn, no longer the harsh bright light we’d dealt with all summer long. There was a hint of a chill in the air, but it was just enough to make it easier for everyone to move around. I took a deep, long breath, filling my lungs to commemorate again that this was the first day of my last year in this place.
“So, tell me about Saturday night.” I tugged on Miranda’s arm, bringing her out of her sleepy trance.
“You were there.” she managed.
“Not at the party…or did you have so much to drink you forgot I don’t ever go to those things?”
“Oh yeah.”
“So how was it?”
“Honestly? I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”
“That bad, huh? You slept so much yesterday, I figured it was a blast.”
“Let’s get some coffee in me before you try to make me talk,” she croaked.
“Fair enough, you party animal.”
