Page 3 of Not Your Pucking Girl

Watching Sophie out of the corner of my eye, she gets through half her set with the too-forward, cocky monster behind her before I recognize the look in her eyes. I shake my head in mirth, watching as she puts the bar back on the rack and turns to face Tank.

Sophie grabs him by the shirt and pulls him in, and I’m not surprised when he goes willingly. Grabbing her ass, he effortlessly picks her up and she winds her legs around his waist. He walks them in the direction of the bathrooms, neither of them caring one bit about the people staring at their display.

Bewilderment slams through my veins. Days like this just don’t come along—for the first time ever, Sophie’s met her match.

“Youbettergetgoingbefore you’re late,” Jared calls through our small cottage as I run around collecting my books, certain that a small hurricane must have spread them through the entire house.

“I know, I know. I’m going,” I say, shoving them into my bag and rushing to the door before blowing him a kiss. I pass my camera on the hallway table and double back a step, grabbing that too. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Dani girl,” his voice rings out, just moments before I slam the door shut between us.

Fiddling around in my bag, I search for my phone as I hastily make my way down the street to the college campus. I quickly hash out a text to Sophie, who I haven’t seen since her departure to the gym bathroom.

Dani - You never came home. Are you okay? Class starts in twenty minutes.

Sophie - HOLY SHIT, BATMAN! Best morning EVER! I’m on my way. I’ll tell you all about it.

Making my way into our communications class, I find a seat in the back and drop my bag onto the chair beside mine, saving it for Sophie. The first class of the semester always seems to be a slow day when it comes to Professor Whitaker, and I know Sophie has got a lot to spill.

A few minutes have passed when I see that familiar wave of blonde hair making its way up the stairs. A cheesy grin cuts across my face, noticing she’s positively glowing from her morning activities while still strutting around in her workout clothes. She smirks back at me, shoving my bag out of the way as she flops into the seat beside mine with a satisfied sigh. “I told you. I knew you wouldn’t regret coming to the gym with me,” I remind her.

Sophie scoffs but agrees all the same. “Oh, I never regret coming,” she smirks before jumping straight into her story. “You should have seen the size of him, Dani. He was a beast and a god, he knew what he was doing,” she beams, not skipping out on a single, dirty, detail. “We got kicked out of the gym, so he took me back to his place for rounds two, and three, and fuck, don’t get me started on his tongue. He was a machine.”

I laugh at her enthusiasm. “Wow, so, I take it he was pretty good then?”

“Hands down. Best sex I’ve ever had.”

My brows shoot up with intrigue. “Geez, he must have been really good to deserve a title like that,” I laugh while glancing across the room, making sure we still have time to chat. “Are you sure, though? Because you said the same thing about that guy you met during the photography exhibition a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah, Jack,” she laughs with a fond sigh. “I forgot about him. He was great, but compared to Tank, he’s got nothing.”

My cheesy smile returns. “So, when are you seeing him again?”

Her lips press into a hard line as she gives me a pointed stare, as though I should know better by now, and honestly, I do. I know exactly what’s about to pour out of her mouth. I just really wish it wouldn’t. “You know that’s not how I roll,” she says. “I never go back for seconds. No matter how amazing it was.”

“Are you—” My response is cut off when Professor Whitaker walks into the room, calling the class to silence. She stands front and center, looking extremely professional in her gray pantsuit and low heels. She slides a pair of glasses up her nose and welcomes us all to our first class. “I trust you’ve all had a great break and are motivated for a challenging semester,” she says, jumping straight into her lecture.

An hour later, I’m madly scribbling notes in my notepad when Professor Whitaker goes ahead and drops a bomb on us. “Alright, your first assignment is going to be a big one. In fact, it will last the duration of the semester and count for fifty percent of your grade. I trust you will take this assignment seriously.”

We listen intently as she continues. “We’re roughly fifty-fifty between journalism and PR students, so you need to partner up, one from each area. There may need to be a couple groups of three. Your brief is to follow one of the college’s sporting teams throughout the year, specifically their training and games. You are to promote them in new ways and write an article each week on their progress and events. Your article will then be published in both the university’s online and physical newspapers, so make it good. There are specific sections of the assignment that are solely for the PR students, and some for the journalism students, but the majority of the assignment will involve your combined skills. All the instructions you need will be found in the brief, and the rest you will have to work out for yourselves.”

The room falls into hushed whispers of excitement while Sophie reaches for my hand, instantly claiming me as her partner. As if I would have chosen anyone else. “You should have all received an email with a detailed outline of the assignment, so take a moment to read over it and get an idea of what will be required of you.”

Grabbing my phone, I open my emails and sure enough, the brief is right there waiting for me. I begin reading over it as Professor Whitaker grabs a hat from the boy sitting in the front row and takes a seat at her desk. “You have a few minutes to figure out who you would like to partner with and then we’ll work out who’s taking what team,” she explains as she begins tearing up little pieces of paper and placing them in the hat.

Five minutes later, she stands and begins calling students to the front of the room, and one by one, they slip their hands into the hat and choose their team. The baseball team, the swim team, the football team, even the cheerleaders get a mention.

When I hear my name called out, I get up and shuffle past Sophie. She gives my ass a good luck spank as I pass her, and I cross my fingers, hoping to God I pick out a good team. After all, this is fifty percent of our grade.

Professor Whitaker holds the hat up high, and I reach up onto my tippy-toes and begin shuffling the leftover teams between my fingers. Then finally, I select one, feeling my stomach knotting with anticipation.

Pulling the small piece of paper out of the hat, I nervously glance up at Sophie and open it. My stare drops to find Professor Whitakers’ perfect, cursive handwriting, and my world burns to ashes at my feet.

Oh shit.

How do I break it to Sophie that we just got stuck with the worst team on campus?

Well, I suppose that’s not fair. They’re certainly not the worst. They’re extremely talented, but they waste it on alcohol and parties. Maybe that could be a good thing. I’m sure we could get a lot of great stories that we could exploit. I’m almost certain there are secret pregnancies and drugs surrounding all of them. I can’t say it would do any good for the promotion part of the project, but after last year’s epic fail during the championship game, they are easily the most hated sporting team on campus. Their plummet from stardom happened after their last game, and now, I guess it’s our job to return them to the previous gods they were once known as.

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