Page 19 of Flame After the Fumble

“Nope. Today’s day one.” I lick my lips and laugh on my way to the cafeteria. The first week of class has gone without a hitch, except for myslighttardiness on the first day in a writing course Coach signed me up for. It would have been fine if Violet wasn’t in the same class, more than ready to scold me for not taking school seriously enough. She’s always known about my struggles with ADHD, but I don’t like burdening her with more than she already has going on.

“Would you do us all a favor and at least try to make this work? As much as it pains me to say, we need you out on that field.” His jaw tightens as he cracks his neck on each side. Ryan is the most serious guy I know, and I’m scared of how he would take me getting benched for grades.

“No worries. I’ve got this as long as you stay far away from baby Vi.”

“For the millionth time, I won’t screw up again,” he scowls.

Last week threw me a curveball when Violet and Ryan decided to play tonsil hockey at the back to school bash. I wasn’t there to witness it, but Violet’s teary confession did enough for me to pummel him in the grass at practice the next day. Violet thinks the only reason I wasn’t there was to hook up with the gorgeous girl who agreed to leave the party with me, but the truth is, I was sick to my stomach watching Liza and Locke flirt all night. The way he touched her hips, but his eyes drifted to other girls in the room. The slimy look on his face when he kisses her like a conquest. I hated every second of it, but she’s hardwired to believe that every future relationship would be like her last one. So instead of giving me a chance to show her something real, she settles for noncommittal jerks like Locke.

Walking into the cafeteria earns us a few stares and whispers. When you’re two of the biggest collegiate athletes in the nation, people notice.

“Hey, Hart!” Violet waves from a few tables over and gestures for me to join her and her friend. I throw up the ‘one second’ finger and turn to Ryan.

“That’s my cue to dip.” Ryan thumps my back with his hand and cuts in the opposite direction of the girls’ table.

“You can’t hide forever, lover boy!” I cup my hands around my loud mouth and scream loud enough to embarrass my burly friend. He shoots back a death glare before picking up his pace out of sight.

“What’s up, Vi?” I weave through the packed lunch area to give her a tight hug. Sitting across from Violet is my biggest temptation at Springs U. “Always a pleasure, Goldie.” I lick my top lip and drop my gaze to take her in. It always pulls the cutest shade of pink to her cheeks. She drops her eyes to the table before lifting those thick lashes and rolling her eyes to the back of her head.

“Are you ever going to tell me how I earned that nickname, Hotshot?” She purses those glistening pouty lips and laces her hands together on top of the table, not one to back away from a war of words.

“One day.” I wink and divert my attention to Violet before she reads too much into this conversation and gives me the third-degree back at the apartment. “Love to see this.” I gesture my hand to both of them. “My two favorite girls in the same place.”

“Watch out, Hotshot. Vi is here to become the football team's biggest distraction.” She giggles and drops her head back to rest on her neck. I stare too long at her exposed neck and begin wondering what her skin would taste like.

“I’m not stealing anyone. Don’t get him in a tizzy,” Violet scolds her. I’m known to cause quite the scene, and when it comes to Violet, no fight isn’t worth it.

“I don’t know. . .” She places her hand under her chin and locks those deep caramel pools in with mine. “I’ve heard things.”

“Whatthingshave you heard, Goldie? If your information source is Locke, then I’m deeming it fake news.” I throw my backpack on the floor and scoot into the booth next to Violet.

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” She tilts her head slightly, trying her best to bait me into the banter she loves. “I have to split. See y’all later.” She scoots out of the booth and throws her bag over one shoulder. Her hair flows down her back, hitting her right below the shoulder blades. She has a few flowers picked from the campus garden weaved in small strands of her beachy waves. Her head tilts over her shoulder, allowing her to blow a friendly kiss to Violet. Violet makes a show of pretending to catch it before I have my best friend to myself.

“Do I even want to know, Hart?” Violet hits me with a stoic look that tells me she’s onto whatever Liza and I do when we’re around each other.

“If there’s anything to know, you’d be the first.” Spending too much time going back and forth with Liza puts me in a time crunch to make it to my first tutoring session on time. Coach would rip me apart if I was late on the first day. Word travels like wildfire on this campus. Instead of buying lunch, I steal a few chicken strips off of Vi’s plate and book it to the campus library I’ve never stepped foot in.

Luckily, I have mad skills in the speed walking department, so I make it to the library entrance with five minutes to spare. Entering through the turn-style door, I do my best to not disturb anyone studying at the open tables. I spend a minute peering around each corner to make sure I’m heading in the right direction. I travel down a musty hall, and spot a small sign that hasn’t been updated since the 80’s reading:Study Rooms.Bingo. I peek through the exposed glass into the empty first room to get an idea of the setup. As soon as I open the door of the second study room, my heart drops to my stomach. Sitting in a worn down wooden chair with a laptop, papers, and pens scattered across the matching table is my golden haired kryptonite.

“Liza, I think you have the wrong room. I have a reserved spot here today.” I decided not to jump to conclusions. Brush it off as an honest mistake.

“No.” She shakes her head and furiously clicks the keys on her laptop. “I’m scheduled to work in this room tonight. I’m meeting my new tutoring student.” She flips the laptop to face me, and I walk closer to get a better look. The chat between CreativeArtist1 and StarAthlete13 burns through my eyes.

I rub my hands together. “Looks like I’m your student.” I gulp, hiding the smirk that's threatening to burst out, and selfishly loving the extra one-on-one time this will give me with her.

Inhaling a deep breath and dropping her head into both hands, she slowly lifts back up, leaving her hair a tousled mess around her pristine face. “This can’t be real,” she groans.

“Oh, it’s real. Let’s get our art history on.” I slam my bag down on the table and empty its contents across our space. I don’t know the first thing about good study habits, but I hope that Liza will teach me.

“Look, Hartley.” She leans over the table only inches away from my face. “If this is going to work, we can’t goof off like we normally do.” She exhales and I inhale every drop of her sweet-cinnamon scent. “Art is serious to me. It’s going to be my career one day.”

Note to self, dive more into the hot, tortured artist thing another time.

“You don’t have to worry.” I reach over and tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Her eyes follow my hand’s every move. “I need your help. My football career depends on it.”

“Let’s get to it, then.” She flips open my binder lying on the table. It’s filled with notes and sheets I must have stuffed in from the bottom of my bag.

I point my finger at the array of supplies she drops on the table. “Where’d you get all of those?”

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