in some he said, she said situation that spun out of control and turned ugly.
I knew that if I filed a formal complaint with the head of Compliance, they were required to report it, and bigger institutions got involved, like the national committee for sports. He obviously knew it too. That was why he finally stopped trying to contact me and disappeared from my life like he’d never existed in the first place. And I’d stopped tutoring male athletes, only offering my services to females, from there on out.
It wasn’t like I needed the money from the tutoring gig, so I could have quit it altogether, but I liked the challenge. I hadn’t failed an athlete yet. I was the only tutor with a one hundred percent success rate going into my senior year. My boyfriend, Jared, never understood why I had even started doing it in the first place, but maybe that was part of the exact reason why I had.
When my freshman math professor had asked me to help out a basketball player in class, Jared hadn’t liked it one bit and told me as much. Apparently, his disapproval spurred my rebellious nature, and I said yes, partially out of spite.
That single tutoring job spiraled into one that paid. Word of mouth took off, and before I knew it, I was being requested by name. It felt good to get something on my own, with my own skill and talent, instead of my last name or my dad’s help. And the ironic thing was, I’d had no idea up until that point that I could even be a good teacher. Or that I’d like it as much as I did. People my age generally tended to annoy me and get on my nerves but not in this student-teacher scenario. I’d found myself genuinely enjoying helping someone understand a concept that had seemed completely foreign to them before I came along. It felt satisfying to know that I had a hand in a person passing their class so that they could continue to chase their dreams. I knew that I made a difference in someone’s life even if it was only for a brief moment.
So, when I’d gotten the call this morning, basically begging me to help one last male athlete, I’d almost said no without another thought and hung up. When they told me who it was for, I pretended not to care or be fazed, but Chance Carter was a legend on campus, whether he wanted to be or not. I assumed he wanted to be. Allegedly, without my help, he wasn’t going to be able to play this season. Not a single game.
“His draft year,” they had added.
As much as I hated to admit it, I did not want to be the reason that he couldn’t play. Not when I knew that with my tutoring, he’d be able to.
I stupidly cared about his eligibility and wanted to help. A perfect stranger who meant nothing to me. A stranger who I currently couldn’t stand. He was so arrogant and typical, thinking I wanted him the same way that idiot football player had once before.
I’d tried to convince Chance that he wasn’t my type, but I wasn’t sure he’d bought it. Which wouldn’t surprise me, considering the fact that it was a bald-faced lie. Chance Carter was definitely my type in the looks department—all dark-haired and green eyes that saw way too much and that I swore looked right through me. He was tall with broad, muscular shoulders and thick thighs. He was a freaking god, and I was certain he was more than aware of that fact.
But none of that mattered because I wasn’t available. And even if I were, dating an athlete sounded like the worst idea on the planet. Most of them couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants, and the last thing I needed was some cheating asshole in my life.
No, thank you.
I wish someone would tell my body that we aren’t interested because it clearly hasn’t gotten the memo. No, we can’t touch him! No, we can’t sit on his lap and talk about the first thing that pops up! No, you cannot kiss those luscious-looking lips.
Chance was staring at me from his seat next to mine at the worktable, those ridiculous green eyes boring right through me. Staring. And not saying a word.
“What?” I asked in my most annoyed tone.
“Nothing,” he said in response.
Even though I couldn’t read his mind, I knew