I can hear his words clear in my head. They're loud and clear but don't mean anything to me. All I know is that I want to see where things go with Casey. I can't just drop her because of some stupid high school drama.

She and I are more similar than she thinks. The hard work she puts in. The dedication to her studies and doing her work. There was a time when I used to be like that.

A time before I got drawn into all this.

The whistle blows and Coach Vaughn spins his finger above his head. There's a groan from the players as they start another set of laps around the track. A couple of them stare me down, but I just smile and wave.

She works so hard and has so little time for fun. I used to know what that was like. How lonely it can be.

Well, that's about to change. If she's going to help me get back on the field, then I'm going to help her have a little fun. I know she'll hate me for it at first, but I think she'll turn around. Especially now that I know she has a party animal inside of her.

I know that Dwayne meant his words as a way of turning me off from her.

Instead all he did was make me want her more.

I want to bring the old Casey out. Make her comfortable to be around me. So that she can bring that fun side of her out.

5.

Casey

"How does this look?" David holds out his most recent assignment. Our fingers momentarily touch and I can feel my cheeks blushing as the electricity courses through me. I scan over his work and I can't help but smile.

I've been tutoring David for the last two weeks and it's been easier than I could have ever imagined. When Melissa handed me that thick manila folder, my stomach dropped. And when David was late for his first session, I didn't think that we would make any progress. But every day, he's surprised me more and more.

He's been coming in early and ready to show me his work. He doesn't argue with me about scheduling our tutoring appointments, only nods his head and agrees with everything I say. I never expected this kind of work from him. Not in my wildest dreams.

"Everything looks great." I hand him the assignment and let myself take him in as he stuffs it into his backpack. He's donning a tight workout shirt that melds to his body. I can see every curve of his chest and biceps. I can barely keep my eyes off him.

I close my eyes and take in a breath. This needs to be professional. I can't do anything to jeopardize the relationship. No matter how hot he is or how horny I am.

"Is that everything for today?" I grab the checklist that I've prepared and check off the last box.

"That's everything. David, can I ask you a question?"

None of this makes any sense. Every session that we've spent together the last two weeks confirms to me that he's not that bad of a student. If he even put in half the effort he does with me, he would be at least passing all his classes. Enough for him to be on the field and putting in the minimum work.

David leans in his chair and brings his feet up to the table. My eyes involuntarily fall down his body until they lock in on his crotch. I can see the thin outline of something there, but I try not to stare too long.

"Shoot."

I pull out a sheet from my backpack and lay it face down on the table. David's eyebrow raises and he brings his hands behind his head, trying to seem casual about it all. Since I've started tutoring David, I've had each of his teachers send me a grade report at the end of each week. Just to make sure that everything is going to according to plan.

And so far, it has been. If David keeps this up, he'll be able to be back on the field in a matter of weeks and only miss at most two or three games. And if he gets back to the field, that means that there will be little reason or sense for me to be tutoring him anymore. After all, I'm not here to make sure that he's getting straight A's. He just needs to do well enough for Melissa to give the nod, even if it means that he's barely passing.

"How are you struggling with your grades?" I turn the sheet of paper over and pass it across the table. David looks at it and smiles. "You can obviously study and do well in your classes. You've hardly needed me for anything."

The chair thumps down on the ground as he brings his lumbering body over. He grabs the piece of paper and looks at it more intently, nodding his head as his eyes dip down. "You've been more help than you know. And it helps that I have someone cute and pretty here to keep my company." He signs the bottom of the page and slides it back to me.

I grab it quickly and dip my head below the table, trying to hide the intensifying blush on my cheeks. Did he really just call me cute and pretty? I bite down on my lip and look across from underneath the table, only to be met with his green eyes.

"You can't hide under here." I slowly raise my head above the table and grab hold of my hair, rolling the thin strands between two fingers. I try to bring my eyes up to him but I can feel my uneasiness take over and dip them down in front of me. David reaches over the table and his hand touches the top of mine, forcing me to look at him. "Hasn't anyone ever said that to you before?"

I look at him and get lost in his features. The green eyes that pull me in. The dimples on either side of his cheeks that only come out when he smiles and shows the top of his teeth. The chiseled jaw that would make any A-list move actor jealous.

I move my hand through my hair and tuck it behind my ear. "I've been called pretty before," I lie. The truth is that I've only been called that by my father. And I don't think that counts for very much.

"Just not by someone as handsome as me?" He smirks at me and his hand leaves my side. He gets up, picks up his chair, and sets it down next to me. "You must be awestruck right now," he teases.

And just like that, the moment is gone. David's cockiness comes out in full blast and I want to smack that smile off his face. And yet, I don't. There are a dozen things that I want to do to him and slapping him is not one of them.

"You need to get over yourself." I grab my backpack that's conveniently between his legs. When I dip down to shove my folders inside, I try my hardest not to stare at his crotch. I manage to last two seconds before my eyes dart toward it, catching the slight outline of his cock.

After all the stolen glances, I still can't believe how big it is. I've never seen anything like that before. His nickname 'Big Jock' might be more fitting than I first thought.

"And to answer your question, it has nothing to do with me not studying." He grabs his literature book from the other side of the table. He slaps the cover. "I just don't care about any of this stuff. All of my classes are boring subjects with even more boring teachers who half the time almost put themselves to sleep with their monotone voice."

I hold back a laugh. He has a point. I've taken classes with some of his teachers and they aren't the liveliest individuals. And when I took those classes, I didn't find any of the information stimulating but that didn't matter much o me. I did what I had to do to pass my classes and move on.

"You could always change your schedule around. Find something that motivates you."

"It's too late for that. I barely have a year left at college. I don't have the luxury of changing majors anymore." David's eyes gloss over and he stares across the room. "Besides, I've found something that I love."

"And what's that?"

David looks at me and smiles. He gets up out of his seat and gets down into a stance with his legs open wide. He looks from side to side and yells, "Hike." He backpedals in the small room and cocks back his arm before letting go of the imaginary football. His eyes follow the ball across the room and he jumps into the air. "Touchdown." He does a little bow and blows kisses out to the imaginary crowd.

I clap my hands together and let myself relax around him. "When did football become such a big part of your life?" David takes a step back and falls into his chair, his arm falling down around my shoulder. My eyes fall on his hand that's lying on my side. Almost like him being so close to me isn't a big deal at all.

My mouth instantly dries and I have to concentrate on breathing. I don't want to make a fool of myself around him. But I also need to tell him that this is inappropriate for our relationship.

"Back in high school." His eyes move down the side of my body and the heat rises to my cheeks.

I grab my schedule from my backpack and spread it out, trying my best not to look at him. I can feel his eyes on me as I concentrate. "We need to go over your pre-calculus work next time we meet. I know that you have a big test coming up. Does Friday work for you?"

His hand moves from around my shoulder and I can't breathe. There's an unbearable heat running through my body and all of it stems from between my legs. It's been so long since I've indulged in anything. Ever since I came to college I've been focusing on getting good grades and doing well. Never giving into my carnal temptations. And for the longest time, that worked.

That is, until I met David Cooper.

I don't know how to act around him. I've tutored athletes before and I've never felt this way with any of them. And it wasn't 'cause they weren't trying to get my attention. I just never gave them the time of day. But with David it's different.

I can't stop myself from wondering what if.

What if he likes me?

What if he has a big cock?

"Friday doesn't work for me," he says, breaking me out of my internal dilemma. "How about we hang out later tonight?"

That won't do. I have a couple tests that I need to study for. I can't just drop them to tutor David.

"That won't work. I'm not free tonight."

"I'm not talking about tutoring. I want us to hang out." His words are slow and purposeful. His eyes scan my body and I can feel my nerves taking hold. I grab my schedule and rip at the corners of it, trying to defuse the situation.

"I can't. I'm not into frat parties and drinking like you are."

"Who said anything about a party?" David pulls his chair a little closer to me until I can smell the subtle coconut scent of his body wash. I shudder and rip into the schedule. David looks down at my hands and smiles. "I'm talking about one on one time. Just me and you." His words are heavy and full of lust. I can feel the wetness between my legs take hold, my body telling me to say yes to him while my brain is telling me to run. To run as far as I can and tell Melissa that I can't tutor him anymore. That it's becoming too much and unprofessional.

My mind is still rattling around the idea of being alone with David Cooper when David kneels over and grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. "I understand if you don't want to. I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to. I'm sorry." His hand is gripping the door handle when I grab his shoulder. Somehow, in the span of a couple seconds, I've gotten out of my seat and run across the room. If that doesn't scream desperate, I don't know what will.

"Ok," I answer weakly, still trying to regain my composure. "What did you have in mind?" My heart is racing a million miles an hour and I'm barely holding on to him.

David looks at me and breaks into the biggest smile I've ever seen. "I'm not going to spoil the surprise." He grabs the schedule from my hand and scribbles down an address. "Come around 8-o-clock tonight."

"Just you and me?" I ask before he walks out the door.

"Just me and you, teach." His words rock me to my core and I watch him rush toward the stairs. It could be my mind playing tricks on me, but it almost seems like there's an actual hop to his step. When he's out of sight, I walk back to my table and hold myself up by the back of the chair.

What have I done? This is breaking so many rules. I'm supposed to be his tutor and just that. Tutors are not supposed to be alone, one on one, with their student outside the library.

I close my eyes and drop down into my seat. I try to get my heart under control, but it won't stop drumming along like a locomotive. There's only one thought streaming into my head. Over and over.

I'm going to be alone with David "Big Jock" Cooper. And I can feel the smile spreading on my face so hard that my cheeks hurt.

6.

David

I lift the top of the frying pan and let the smell of fried chicken coat the inside of my nose. Casey is going to love this. There's nothing like a man showing that he can cook to win a girl over. That was something that my mother always told me. It's apparently how my late father won her over many years ago.

I grab my tongs and pull a piece of chicken out of the oil, turning it over and looking at the crispy brown outer edges. It's cooked perfectly and not a moment too late. I turn over the other pieces of chicken and a couple of oil droplets fly into the air and land on my hand.

"God damn it." The hot oil burns into my hand and I shake it out in front of me. I rush to the sink and let the cool water run down the burns. The welcoming sound of a knock on the door draws my attention and I look at the Mickey Mouse clock hanging above the refrigerator. She's early, just like I expected from Casey Boone. I grab a towel and make my way to the door, not wanting to waste another moment. "Who is it?"

"Casey Boone," she answers nervously. I watch her look up and down the hallway before staring into the peephole. I open the door and I'm almost left breathless. And that hardly happens on and off the field.

Casey is wearing a blue dress that hangs just above her knees. Her hair hangs passed her chest, covering her breasts. It splits in front, making her tits part like the Red Sea. My mouth hangs out in front of me and Casey smiles, brings a hand up, and shuts it for me.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" She swings from side to side, making her long hair sway and cover those beautiful eyes of hers. If I didn't have to finish cooking the rest of dinner, I would take her right here in the hallway. Hitch that dress above her head and go to town on her. Instead, I resist the urge and open the door, holding my hand out behind me and letting her pass. "What smells so amazing?" She walks over to the kitchen, sniffing the air.

"An old family recipe that's been passed down for generations. My mother would kill me if she knew I was making this for you." I walk over to the stove and grab the last pieces of chicken out of the frying pan. I lay them down on a sheet of paper towels for the oil to drip on. Casey walks over to the end of the counter and grabs the printed recipe.

She looks it over and up at me. "Well, your mom will be extra mad if she finds out that it's online." She laughs as she reads through the instructions.

"Caught me red-handed." I take the platter of fried chicken and watch her eyes fall on me. She runs her tongue along those luscious lips of hers. "Is that for me or the chicken?"

Her cheeks turn a deep red and she starts to stutter. "The chicken." I grab her by the hand and take her to the living room. The lights are dimmed and there's soft music playing in the background. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at me, but I ignore her. I set down the platter of wings and fries on the table and pass her a paper plate. She sits down next to me. Far enough that our bodies aren't touching, but close enough that I can smell the strong fragrance of her perfume.

I don't eat anything. Instead, I wait for her to take the first bite. I'm interested in knowing what she thinks of it. This is the first time that I've actually cooked for someone besides my family. I don't go out of my way to impress girls; usually just knowing who I am is enough to take the next step.

That doesn't work with Casey and I'm glad. I forgot how much I enjoy the thrill of the chase. The deep wrenching feeling in my stomach has me on the edge of my seat.

Will she or will she not like my chicken?

She turns the chicken over with those small fingers of hers and brings it to her lips. She takes a big whiff of it and her body shudders, her eyelids flickering. So far, so good.

Casey digs her teeth into the drumstick and there's a hard crunch that fills the air. She chews it and runs her tongue along her lips. I can't wait any more. I need to know.

"Well, what do you think?"

She sets the drumstick down and wipes her hands on a paper towel. She chews a couple more times and swallows before she turns to me. "I don't know how to say this." She reaches out and places a hand on my lap like she's about to give me the worst news of my life. If someone walked in right now, they might think Casey was about to tell me someone in my family died. I'm about to toss my towel across the room with frustration when there's a subtle flicker of her lips. "That has to be the best chicken I've ever had." She pats me on my thigh and my cock comes alive.

That's the closest her hands have ever been to my crotch. I've seen the subtle glances at my cock and I've called her out on numerous occasions. It was almost like a little game that we played. I stole glances at that heavenly body of hers and she tried to see if the rumor was true or not. I know that's what she's been trying to do because sometimes when she concentrates real hard, I can hear her murmur 'Big Jock' under her breath. I don't think she knows that she's doing it and I think it's too adorable to mention.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to hear. You had me going there for a second." I throw the towel over my shoulder and take a hard bite of the chicken. It's cooked to perfection. The skin is nice and crunchy while the inside is moist and full of flavor.

We eat in silence for the most part. We go through the whole small talk bit. The usual the weather outside is nice and our upcoming schedule but nothing of real substance. And that doesn't matter to me. Right now, I'm just happy that I've managed to bring her this far.

Casey sets her plate down and clears her throat, bringing me out of my little daydream. "You must be wondering why I don't go out to party?" She stares at her legs and moves her hands along her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles that have formed. She fixates on one particular spot at the side of her thigh.