Page 9 of The Quarterback Sneak

Rocking Ella back to sleep, I smile while watching her lids slowly fall and reopen. It’s funny how quickly life changed for us. If anyone had told me this is where I’d be in eighteen months, I would have laughed in their face. Raising a baby whiletrying to get a scholarship to the country’s most prestigious college football program sounds ridiculous, but it’s my life and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because when I look at Ella, my heart beats with joy.

When all I hear are Ella’s deep breaths, I gently place her in her crib and grasp at the wooden railing, watching her. I can’t leave her and Tiffany behind when I go to St. Michael’s. I can’t leave the burden of caring for them in my parents’ hands while I live it up at school in a different state. I have to be there for them all.

Gripping the side of the crib, I let my anger and frustration ebb away as I think about how I can make this work. Waiting for sponsorship money in college could take years, and that’s only if I remain good enough. If I want to help my family, I need to do something now. Something that could help take the burden off my parents and give Tiff a break.

I shake my head, laughing, because what more can I do? I don’t have time for another job, and I need to keep my grades up to make sure my GPA is good enough for St. Michael’s. If only I had ten grand to throw around on stupid bets like my obnoxiously rich classmates do.

Fifty grand for the person who dates Honey Sanderson.

It’s ridiculous and such a waste of good money.

Moneywecould use.

My mind races with all the things I’d be able to do with fifty grand. If Tiffany could keep her grades up, she might qualify for a scholarship, which means the money I have could go to supporting her and Ella. They’d be able to come with me, and my parents could quit their extra jobs.

Walking out of the room, I gently shut the door and lean against it with my eyes closed. I roll my head to the side, seeing Tiff’s bedroom door open and her sleeping form in the center of her bed with textbooks surrounding her. I tiptoe into the room, take the books away, and carefully drag a fluffy blanket over her.

Standing in the hallway, I close my eyes to regain my thoughts. Money, Ella, and school are all that race through my mind. I need to do something, but what?

My eyes nearly bug out of my head when an idea comes to mind.

It can’t be that easy, can it?

A sinister smile forms on my face as I think about all the ways this might work. An idea that wouldn’t just get me the money I need to help my family, but one that will piss off all my rich teammates in the process.

Yeah, this could work.

That fifty grand is all mine, because I will date Hunniford Sanderson… All I have to do is get her to agree to it. How hard could it be?

Chapter Four

Zach

Standing next to the curb, I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking the time.

Where the hell is she?

It’s four twenty. Classes ended an hour ago, and she still hasn’t walked out of those doors. That pink monstrosity she calls a car is the only one left in the parking lot, so I know she’s here. I just have no idea where.

The car sparkles in the sun, and I cringe because whoever signed off on that hideous paint job should be shot. I mean, seriously, Barbie pink? Why would any self-respecting person paint a car that color? Especially one that costs half a million dollars.

My head turns sharply when the doors to the school open, and I smile.

Honey.

Walking out of school, she adjusts her obnoxiously large sunglasses and clutches her books to her chest as she walks through the parking lot. I sidestep to hide behind a tree and watch her stride toward her car. Brett was right; her skirt seems shorter than usual, and it only emphasizes her long, lean legs as it flips with each step she takes. Honestly, if I were into richsnobs, I’d be all over Honey like a fly to… well, honey. Girl’s hot. Too bad she’s sour as shit.

When she opens her car door, I know this is my one and only chance to speak to her privately.

“Honey,” I call out, jogging up behind her.

Her back straightens, she shucks her designer bag over her shoulder and flicks her hair. I know she heard me, but she doesn’t turn. She probably thinks I’m like the rest of the people in school—ready to knock the queen down a peg or two. She can pretend all she wants that the sniggers and comments haven’t affected her, but it’s easy to see the cracks in her demeanor if you look close enough. Her jaw tenses, her fingers twitch, and her breathing slows, but no one cares to pay attention.

From what I can tell, after watching her for one day, Honey hates being the butt of jokes, so she must be hating school right now.

I call her name again, and after lifting her sunglasses, she slowly turns, showing the dark circles under her eyes. She takes me in, then her brows furrow when our eyes lock. What does she think I will do? Record this for prosperity?

I stalk forward, approaching her like she’s a frightened animal, and smile when she doesn’t run immediately. That’s a good sign, right? “How’s it going?” I ask, still careful with my steps. I feel ridiculous. She and I haven’t spoken in the three years I’ve gone to this school, yet here I am, asking how she is and pretending we shoot the shit on the regular.

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