Win Big:A Bad Boy Sports Romance(17)

"I was not impressed, seeing that guy kiss you, Sam. Isn't he supposed to be your friend? Or were you trying to make me jealous?"

"Let go of the door, Austin. We're not having this conversation."

"Maybe I can kiss you goodnight, then. I promise you'll forget all about him."

"Go home. Please, just leave."

His mouth hung open, then he laughed. "I don't know what your problem is with me. I was there for you once upon a time."

He was delusional. We dated for two months during my junior year at college, and he was an arrogant, self-involved, pompous prick the entire time. Then we broke up and he put me through hell for another three months before some other woman finally captured his interest and he moved on. Right now, though, it was getting late, and I was alone, and although I wasn't afraid of him, I didn't have the energy for an argument.

I kept it brief. "That was a long time ago, Austin. Please let go of the door. Go home. I don't want things to escalate."

Thank God. Two girls living on another floor came toward us from inside the building, making to leave. Austin had to move to let them pass, and I took my opportunity to step inside and gun it to the stairs. Austin was still yelling at me to come back the entire time. I ignored him, and forgot all about it when I got inside my dorm room. Locking the door, I changed into an oversized t-shirt, brushed my teeth, and crawled into bed to finally get some rest.





10





Evan





My buddy Mo helped me get to the athletic training center on Thursday morning. Dr. Burton had left me a voice message the day before, instructing me to come by for a different prescription.

"Thanks for the favor, Frenchie," I told Mo as we drove over. That was his nickname. Mo's mother was from France. They spoke Parisian French at home, not the watered down Louisiana slang most of us said a few words of here and there.

"I should be thanking you," Mo answered. "I get to use your wheels today."

"That's no trouble, man."

Mo was driving my car because he and his mother shared an old beater. His father was a Navy Seal, and had died in Iraq during Mo's junior year at college. Things were pretty tough for his family after that, especially for his younger brother, Pierre. The kid didn't take his father's passing well. After the funeral, he was in and out of trouble, stealing, using drugs and hanging with the wrong crowd. Mo and his mother spent half their time all over town to either bail the kid out of trouble or search for him when he disappeared for days on end. Pierre's behavior affected Mo's grades in a bad way, so much so he was at risk of not graduating with us this year.

"How's Pierre doing?"

"Hell if I know. He's not been home since two nights ago. The kid's a holy terror, whether he makes it home or is out there raising hell."

"He'll grow out of it."

"If he lives to make it to eighteen, maybe. Mom keeps saying she wouldn't have a single grey hair if it weren't for that kid … nothing's working. And I'm close to failing out from all this extra drama. I don't need this crap, but he's my brother, you know? I can't not help him."

"Yeah man. I get that. It's tough."

"He'll be lucky if he graduates from high school."

"Give him time, maybe."

"Maybe … who knows?" Mo parked the car at the athletic building and brought me inside, holding my crutches in one hand. He was probably the only guy on the team stronger than me. At six feet seven inches tall and broad like two men, he was built like a brick wall. I had no doubt he could throw me over his shoulder with one hand. Thankfully he didn't try that today.                       
       
           



       

Dr. Burton had my prescription ready when we got to his office. Before I could take a seat, he had to rush off to an emergency on the indoor volleyball. Mo and I left his office, and I filled the prescription at the onsite dispensary down the hall. We were leaving the building when we bumped into Samantha. Right away, I could tell there was something wrong. She was out of it, and almost passed right by Mo and me.

"Hey Samantha. What's shaking?"

"Oh, hi Evan. What are you doing here?"

I showed her the prescription bottle. "Doc came through with the new meds. My friend Mo brought me over here."

"Oh, good … Hi Mo. You're tutor and I are roommates."

"Kristy's your friend? That's cool."

She looked at the large digital clock at the other end of the long hallway for a second. "Do you want to get our session done now, Evan? I have just over an hour before I need to get to a class."

"Sure." I looked over at Mo. "You mind picking me up then?"

"I have to see the coach in half-hour," Mo answered, scratching his light blond hair. "He's been on my ass to meet him since last week."

"That's okay, Evan," Samantha said quickly. "I'll give you a ride home. There's an open treatment room three doors down, on the right. Go on in. I'll grab my stuff."

"Sure thing."

She left, and Mo helped me get to the room. "She's pretty hot."

"Yeah."

"Are you tapping that?"

"Planning on it. At least once. It's in the works."

He nodded. "Sweet."

"What about you and her roommate?"

"I don't know. She's an uptight school teacher type when it comes to hitting the books. We'll see … So you're all good here? I don't mind waiting for you, but the coach will probably string me up if I don't see him soon."

"You go ahead, bud. That'll give me time to warm her up some more."

Mo didn't get the chance to leave. We both gave each other a look when the sound of arguing voices streamed in from the hallway. It wasn't an all-out shouting match, but more like two people making an effort to keep from being heard while they battled it out in public. One of the voices was Samantha's.

"I told you to leave me alone," she growled to whoever it was, sounding fierce. "I don't want to get you into trouble, but you're taking this too far. If you don't stop, I'll have no choice but to file a complaint."

"And I told you I'm not done with you," said the man thrashing it out with her.

I began to swing my legs over the side of the treatment table to intervene. Mo stopped me. "Let me take care of this. You're in no shape."

"Get whoever that is out of the building, and send Samantha in here."

He punched his fist into his palm for effect. "Don't you worry."

The second Mo disappeared out the door, I started wishing I hadn't asked him to check it out. He had a tendency to talk with his fists. Personally, I never backed away from a fight, but Mo actually enjoyed it. He got out there and his first move was to shout, "Yo dude, get your fucking hands off her and let's go outside so you can try that with me. I'm just itching to rearrange that pretty boy face for you."

I grabbed one crutch and got out there as fast as I could. I had to see for myself what was going on, and hopefully stop Mo from doing something crazy.

"Austin was just leaving," Samantha said to Mo, trying to pull out of this guy's grasp. The man had his hand gripped tightly on her upper arm.

"I've got a right to be here just like anyone else," the idiot said, then I noticed he was wearing athletic gear with our college colors, and had a racket bag slung over his polo shirt. This shithead was on one of our college teams? He had to be missing a few screws. If any of the coaches were around, they'd slap a probationary warning on him in no time, or worse if they saw him with his hands on a woman.

Mo was close to a full head above this scrawny guy. He'd break that kid in half if I didn't intervene. I hobbled over into the melee. "You may have a right to be in the building, but why the fuck are you touching her, man? Move your ass before we fucking move it for you."

He sneered up at Mo, then glowered at me. "You meatheads need to mind your own business. I'm talking to my girlfriend."

Samantha was with this guy? Man, she sure knew how to pick them.

She set us straight right away. "I'm not your girlfriend and you know it. It's been over two years and all of a sudden you think you own me again?"                       
       
           



       

"Okay that's enough," Mo said. "Let her go. Now."

"This isn't your concern, buddy."

Mo gave him the look he normally saved for the defensive line when he meant business. It was usually enough to make those three-hundred-pound players cower in fear, yet this idiot didn't budge.

"Get your hand off her. Don't make me ask again."

"Or what?"

"I'm really gonna enjoy showing you." Mo put his massive hand on the guy's shoulder. A split second later, buddy boy was being half-carried out of the building.

Samantha stood there rubbing the spot on her arm where her ex-boyfriend had held on to her, shaking like a leaf while he got his ass dragged outside.

"Did he hurt you?" I asked her, putting an arm around her shoulder. Somewhere deep in my chest was an overpowering instinct to protect her. I'd never had that reaction before, and I'd seen my fair share of couples verbally duking it out on campus before. This was different. I wasn't sure what to make of it.