David "Let's run the play one more time." Coach Vaughn claps his hands together and I walk with him to the sideline. He holds his clipboard out in front of him, mumbling to himself before blowing his whistle. Practice isn't going as well as he hoped.

Craig, the backup quarterback, hikes the ball and runs back. His eyes look down field for the open receiver, and he's about to launch the ball when he gets tackled to the ground. There's an audible groan from everyone.

"For fuck's sake," Coach Vaughn yells and shakes his head. He drops the clipboard on the ground and runs out. I follow behind. Coach Vaughn grabs Craig by the shoulder pads and picks him off the ground. "You have to be aware of your surroundings all the time. Not only be looking down field." Craig nods along with Coach's words but I know none of it is sticking.

I've been out here with the team for the last two hours and they've been running the same play over and over with no improvement. The team's chances of progressing to the finals without me as head quarterback are looking dim. They are struggling with the plays that we had down at the beginning of the season.

Coach Vaughn blows the whistle and everyone rushes to form a circle around him. "That's it for today, guys. Go home and get some rest. We'll pick it up tomorrow at the usual time." He raises his hand into the air and everyone reaches out to it. "Team on three! One! Two! Three! Team!" Everyone yells and breaks the formation to run back to the locker room.

I help Coach pick up the cones on the sidelines, waiting for the perfect opportunity. I've been running this idea since the start of practice. I know it's going to be a long shot but I've gotta try.

I rush to the end of the field, where Coach Vaughn is holding a white mesh bag open for me. I throw the cones in and he tightens the bag, throws it over his shoulder, and puts his hand on my shoulder, guiding me in.

It's now or never.

"Coach?" He takes his eyes off the floor and looks at me. "How about I run a couple plays with the team each week? That way when I get back on the field, the team will still be fresh," I stammer out. Coach nods his head and I can feel him warming up to the idea. "If I practice with them, it could boost morale for the team. Make sure that we're going into the games with a clear head." I'm rambling now, but it seems to be working.

Coach opens the door to the utility closet and throws the bag of cones inside. He slams the door shut and looks at me for a long time. The wrinkles on his forehead are getting more defined by the second. He lets go of the handle and walks off without saying anything. I catch up to him, unsure if I should say something or let him think.

When we get into the locker room, it's empty. Everyone rushed out of here faster than usual. Probably didn't want to be reminded of their shitty practice today. Or be yelled at by Coach.

"David, come inside." He holds the door to his office open and offers the seat in front of his desk for me. I hadn't been in his office since he broke the news to me. It's been a little over two months. At the time, I was sure that my football career would be over. In my mind, there was no way that I would pass all of my classes before the end of the season.

That is, until I met Casey Boone. A mental image of her flickers in front of my eyes and I can't help but smile. So much has changed in two months and all of it is because of her.

I'm doing better in my classes than I ever did. So good, in fact, that my teachers are skeptical that I've hired someone else to write my papers and take my exams. I've all but stopped going to every frat party on campus, spending my time on homework and reading. Things I would have never considered doing if it weren't for her.

I've also stopped my one night stands. The thought of being with any other girl beside Casey makes my stomach hurt. Hell, just thinking of her makes me harder than any other girl I'd ever been with. Hannah has been on my ass all last week, trying to get me to go this party or that gathering, and I've rejected her every time. She's been pissy about me ditching her, but I don't care. I saw the hurt in Casey's eyes the last time Hannah dropped by our tutoring session, and I don't ever want to do that to her again.

"How are your classes going?" Coach Vaughn leans in his armchair, propping his feet on the table.

"They're going well, sir." I rub my palms down the side of my jeans. My foot bounces off the floor a couple times, drawing Coach Vaughn's attention.

"Nervous?" He smiles.

"A little."

He brings his hands to his face and rubs at the corners of his eyes, clearly holding something back. "I'll need to speak with your tutor. If everything is good there and you're making progress like you say, then I can consider letting you back on the field." He opens his mouth and closes it quickly, getting out of his chair. He starts to pace from his cabinet at the back of the room and back to his chair, alternating between looking at his feet and at me. There's something that he wants to tell me. I've never seen Coach like this before.

"What is it?" I lean forward in my small chair and it creaks under my weight.

He looks at me before nodding to himself and grabbing a folder off the top of his cabinet. "I wasn't going to tell you about this." He drops the folder in my lap and sits back down in his armchair.

I open the folder and my mouth nearly drops. "How long have you known?"

"A friend of mine sent it to me a couple days ago."

I stop my foot from tapping and grip harder on the sides of the folder. Coach Vaughn didn't have to tell me this. I'm sure that he's been wrestling with how to even bring it up with me ever since he found out. This is life-changing information.

On the top of the paper in bold red letters it reads 'Confidential.' The rest of the page is a list of upcoming games. And at the bottom, highlighted in neon, is our next home game.

"Lester Fleming is coming to that game," Coach Vaughn says. "He's the top recruiter for the professional league. And rumor is, he's coming to see you play." Coach gets out of his seat and pours himself a glass of cogonac. He holds out a glass for me, and normally, I wouldn't take it, but I can feel my nerves coming back. "This is your best chance to get recognized. And I can't do anything to get you on the field."

The hard liquor hits the back of my throat and burns my nose. I haven't drunk anything this strong in my life. Frat houses don't buy top shelf liquor for their parties. I let the simmering in the back of my throat die before I consider saying anything.

Coach Vaughn breaks the silence. "Right now, it's up to you. If you do well on your next exam, then I can probably talk to Melissa and convince her to let you get on the field. Even she'll know how important this is for you but I can't do that until you put in the work." I slide the crystal glass across his table.

That's all I need to know. I put the folder on his desk and grab my backpack. I'm almost out the door when Coach Vaughn shouts at me, "Where are you going?"

I peek back inside the room and smile. "To study."

I run all the way back to my dorm room. If anyone saw me running across the quad, they probably thought I was rushing to a party or to some girl's room. I'm positive none of them would think that David Cooper was running to his room to study.

Coach Vaughn has given me the information I need to jumpstart my professional career. All I have to do is make sure that I pass all of my exams with flying colors. Easier said than done.

I open a power drink, turn on my flimsy desk light, and open my textbook to the first chapter. This is going to be a long night.

11.

Casey.

This all seems like dej vu. My eyes move past the clock for the twentieth time. She's over thirty minutes late. I've tried texting her, but she doesn't have the decency to even reply to that.

I would have left the second the minute hand went past our designated time, if it were not for Melissa. Hell, I would have never agreed to tutor Hannah if it weren't for Melissa. I hate the special treatment I give the students that Melissa assigns to me.

And then I remember that I did the same for David when he was late on his first day. There's a glimmer of hope inside of me, deep inside, that this might go over better than I think.

Maybe Hannah had an emergency and she can't get her phone. Maybe that's why she's late.

Or maybe I'm just a little too forgiving.

I'm about to reconsider my decision when the door swings open. Hannah walks inside, her eyes glued to her phone, and sits down in the chair across from me. She blows a big pink bubble and pops it before her tongue picks up the pieces around her lips to shove back into her mouth.

"You're la-" I start, but Hannah holds up a finger and blows another bubble as her fingers swipe across her fancy phone. It takes another good minute before she puts the phone down and turns to look at me. "You're late," I say.

She looks at me like I'm speaking another language and just shrugs her shoulders. "It happens." Her phone vibrates and she swoops it up like its her precious. The white screen lights up her face and she snorts before her fingers start to fly across it again.

My fingers grip the pencil in my hand hard. Never in my life have I wanted to hurt someone so badly as I did Hannah. The audacity of coming over thirty minutes late and then to continue wasting time by ignoring me is too much.

"Is there a reason why you're late?" That's the only thing that can save her at this rate. Just give me an excuse. Any excuse. I don't care if you have to make it up off the top of your head, just pretend like you give a shit.

Her fingers swipe across the keyboard, and she sends the text before she looks up at me. "No reason." She bats her long fake eyelashes at me like she doesn't have a clue in the world. Like she's used to getting anything and everything that she wants and isn't understanding why I'm making a big deal out of being late.

My thumb digs into the side of the pencil and I can hear the soft cracks as the pressure mounts. I close my eyes and take a breath to readjust. The first thing that pops into my head is David's smirk. I wish that I could be tutoring him right now. At least when he was late, he had an excuse and it didn't hurt that I accidentally felt him up. A smile starts to spread on my face for a moment. The sound of her popping bubblegum brings me out of my little day dream. When I open my eyes, Hannah is leaning back in her chair, earbuds in her ears, blasting music.

I lean over the table and yank on the cord, pulling her down to the table. The look of surprise on her face makes me want to smile but I hold it. "What the hell?" She pulls the cord out of my hand, slams her hands on the table, and gets up like she's about to fight me right here. "What is your problem?" she yells.

"My problem is that we're wasting time," I lie. Usually, I wouldn't mind giving her a piece of my mind, letting her know that my problem is solely her and her shit attitude, but I bite my tongue. If only for Melissa. I clear my throat and try to get rid of the tension in the room. "Did you bring any of your textbooks?"

Hannah stares me down like she's deciding if I'm worth her time or not. She decides the latter and drops back into her chair, putting one earbud into her ear and staring at the clock behind me. "I didn't. I was busy." She bobs her head to the music, only looking at me when it's convenient for her.

This is just great. She shows up late. Doesn't have an excuse for being late. And doesn't even bother to bring her textbooks.

I look at the clock behind me. Even with her being late, there's still a little over twenty-five minutes left in the tutoring session.

This is going to be the longest twenty-five minutes of my life.

"What do you think of this?" Hannah leans over and shows me a lipstick color that she's interested in. This is the tenth time that she's done this in the last five minutes, despite me telling her to pay attention. "Do you think it will go well with this outfit?" She swipes the screen and a black dress comes into focus.

"Hannah, we need to focus on this." I push one of her failed assignments across the table. We've been stuck on the first problem since we started. This isn't going anywhere. I tap the top of the sheet. "Do you understand why you got this wrong?"

She looks at the problem, to me, and then to the lipstick on her phone. "I think this red will be perfect with that black dress," she tells herself before adding the lipstick to her online cart.

I'm about to take the phone out of her hand and chuck it across the room when I decide to call it quits. For her safety. "How about we get done a little early today?" Hannah's attention turns to me and she nods her head. The only time I've gotten her attention for more than a nanosecond. I need to find a way to get out of this. I'll beg one of the other tutors to switch with me, even if I have to take a larger workload. Anything to get rid of Hannah. "Bring your textbooks next time," I yell just as Hannah runs out the door.

I let out the biggest sigh, grab the pencil off the table, and snap it in half. I've been waiting all session to do that. I have no idea what David sees in the girl and then I remind myself that she's the head cheerleader. Her personality probably isn't the reason that David or any other guy hooks up with her.

I gather my things and feel the weight on my shoulder start to lift as I think of David. I look across the table and imagine him there. Those green eyes looking at me, taking me in. And then my mind goes back to that day at the back of the library. At how good I felt after we had that moment together. At how the weight lifted off my shoulder and the stress vanished just moments after.

That's when an idea pops into my head. I giggle to myself as I shove my things into my bag and rush out the door.

I make it to David's apartment with neck-breaking speed. So fast that I'm out of breath when I get to his door. I bite down on my lip and think for a moment. I can always turn back. He'll never know that I was here.

And then I take a big girl breath and knock on his door. There's no going back now.

I hear a chair screech back and I can feel the fluttering in my stomach. I've never done this before. Never been so brazen in my life. Not since my epilepsy attack in high school.

The door flings open and I almost have to catch my jaw from hitting the floor. David is wearing a tight white wife beater and gray joggers. The white beater is worn out and gives me a front row seat to his chest and six pack abs. The joggers hug his beefy legs, leaving little to the imagination when it comes to his package.

"Casey." He sounds surprised but excited. He reaches out and touches the side of my cheek with his palm as if making sure that I am really there. "Sorry, I've been pulling an all nighter." He points to the power drinks on his table and the opened textbook.

I move into his apartment and grab his notebook. I flip through the pages and marvel at his handiwork. "How long have you been studying?" I can feel my nerdy side slowly seeping out of me. Studying was the last thing that I thought he would be doing right now.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

"Is it still the 25th?" he asks, walking over to the fridge and grabbing another energy drink.

"It's the 26th." I laugh and throw his notebook back on the table. "What's gotten into you?"

He opens the energy drink and it fizzes out all over his shirt, completely soaking him. He grabs a towel off the counter and pads the wet spots. He dabs each spot before he swears under his breath, grabs the bottom of the shirt, and pulls it over his head. "I've been meaning to tell you-" And that's the last word that comes out of his mouth before I attack him.

I push my small frame against him and he backpedals until he hits the fridge. I rush toward him and wrap my hands around his neck, pulling myself against him. His hands grab my thighs and hold me against his chest as our lips connect.

The burst of energy is so much that I lose my breath. I bite down on his bottom lip and pull. I run one hand down the side of his chest and feel every part of him. "I want you," I mutter.

When I rushed to his apartment, I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted to do to him. I thought maybe just seeing him or getting a kiss would be enough. That is, until he took off his shirt. Now I'm sure that I want everything from him.

I want my release.

With our lips locked together, David walks across the apartment and lays me down on the couch. He gets up and watches me for a moment, a smile emerging.

"What?" He's giving me that look again. I can't keep it together when he looks at me like that. Like he's going to devour every inch of my body and not stop until I'm nothing but a broken mess. I love that look, but it also scares me.

"I just can't get over how beautiful you are." He lowers himself and kisses the inside of my collarbone, slowly working his way up my neck. He tugs at my earlobe. "I'm going to make you scream my name, Casey Boone," he whispers, and his words send chills down my spine.

"I'd like to see you try," I answer and almost regret my words the second he parts my legs and pushes his hips into me. Even through the two layers of clothes, I can feel the thickness of his cock. And for the first time, I wonder if I can really take him. I haven't been with someone in a very, very long time. "Just be gentle," I whisper.

"I will." He nibbles on my ear and brings his mouth to mine, his tongue flicking at mine. He searches my mouth and feels every part of it before he pulls away and smirks. "At least, at first I will." His words send a shiver down my spine and I wrap my legs around him, wanting to get used to his cock before I take him.

He works down my neck excruciatingly slowly. I run my hands through his hair and push down on his head. "Hurry," I cry trying to hold back a smile. He pulls down on the collar and presses his lips between my breasts. He licks around and lifts his head, but I wrap my hands around his neck and push him down. "You're not going anywhere." I laugh and hold him between my tits until I feel the surge of air leave his lips as he motorboats me and slips out of my grasp.

"Someone's a little antsy," he chuckles and grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it off in one swoop. My breasts bounce in their tight little cage, practically begging for release. Taking off my bra at the end of the day is something that I look forward to. Sometimes my bra falls to the ground before I'm even able to close the door to my dorm room. I stare at David and wiggle my hands around my back, yearning for that release. He reaches out and grabs my wrists, putting them above my head and holding me there with one of his hands. "I want to do it," he growls.

His lips move down my collarbone and quickly work their way to the outer rim of my bra. He runs his tongue along the edge of the bra and I squirm under his touch. His finger pulls on the left side of my bra and my tit pops out. The cold air hits my nipple and makes it hard. David moves his tongue and runs it around my areola, every so often swiping at my exposed nipple. After his third fly by touch with his tongue, I position my hands behind his head and hold him in place, forcing my nipple into his mouth. I can see the subtle smirk on his face as he begins to suck on it.

My mouth opens and a jumble of words leave my lips. They don't form a coherent sentence. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure they are real words. Just a mixture of sounds and lazy attempts at forming a word.

With each swipe of his tongue and each suck of his mouth, I feel myself giving in to him more and more. With his free hand, he cups my other breast and begins to knead it, adding to my torment. Each twist, suckle, and pinch of my nipples increases the buzzing in my ears.

When I'm at the edge of falling over, he lets go of my chest for long enough for me to breathe. He kisses down my stomach and around the elastic of my sweats. If I'd known that I was coming straight to David's after my tutoring session, I would have worn something sexier. Something other than my high school sweats.

"Sorry," I mutter as his fingers cling to the sides of them.

David raises his head and turns it to the side like a confused puppy. "What are you sorry for?" he asks, coming in for a quick peck on the lips.

"I should be wearing something a little sexier," I confess and turn to hide the surfacing redness on my cheeks.

His right eyebrow rises a little higher than the other, making me want to attack him right here and now. "You could be wearing a black trash bag and I would still think that you're the most gorgeous girl that I've ever laid eyes on, Casey Boone."

I love the way he says my name. There's a little spark to it every time it leaves his lips. Almost like he can't get enough of it. Never in my life has someone made me feel this way just by uttering my name.

His fingers touch under my chin and bring my focus to him. "You." He lowers himself and kisses me on the lips. "Are." Another kiss. "Perfect." And this time he gives me a little tongue and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into me. He thrusts his hips into me and my eyes open wide at the hardness between his legs. It feels like he has a steel pipe between his legs.

He could knock someone out with that thing if he wanted to.

When he pulls away, his hands pull down on my sweats and he throws them across over his head. He lifts my feet and puts them on his broad shoulder, his lips kissing the inside of my thighs. Slowly and with purpose, he works his way up. He makes sure to tease every bit of me as my body begins to shake and my hips thrust into the air, my pussy crying for his touch.

David's finger pulls my panties to the side, his face lighting up at the sight of my pussy. "You have the prettiest pussy," he says and pushes his mouth onto it. I thrust my hips along his lips, shooting up and running my hands through his hair. There's nothing that could have prepared me for this moment. His touch is visceral and hands down amazing.

I gyrate my pussy against his lips, feeling his tongue on my clit. I cling to his hair and push my stomach against his forehead. I can't stop shaking to his touch. I'm almost at my sweet release.