Dirty Curve

I hope you have the opposite of fun.

I know I will.

q

Curfew comes quick and I’m thankful for it.

I’m exhausted. The crew was rowdy tonight, and the girls more scandalous than ever. It was too much, and I’m ready for the perks of being the main man—my own fucking room.

“So, which one you sneaking in tonight? The Brazilian beauty with the accent or the Barbie doll with lips like a blowfish?” Echo knocks his elbow into mine as we climb from the Uber. “Mine’s the captain of the volleyball team. Ass for days, son!”

Chuckling, I pull the key card out and we slip through the back doors. “None for me tonight, my man.”

“For real? What’s going on, suffering from some more DDLY?” We look to each other. “Some Dick Don’t Like You?”

Laughing, I shove his ass and step onto the elevator first.

He comes in next, blocking the door with a grin. “Sorry, fuckheads. Catch the next one.”

Our teammates groan, cussing us out as the metal doors close in their faces.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know.” He smirks, turning to me with questioning eyes. “You ain’t been hooking up lately.”

I shrug. “Not in the mood.”

“You not being in the mood is like meeting a chef who hates cooking. Not so sure such a thing exists.”

The elevator doors open and we step off on the ninth floor, cutting a left toward our block of rooms.

“So, what’s really going on?” he asks.

“I want her.”

“Who, my volleyball captain?”

I scoff a laugh. “Nah, man.” With a sigh, I swing my eyes to his. “My fucking tutor.”

His brows jump, amusement quickly following. “Well, there it the fuck it is, son. I called that shit when she stunned your ass by walking away from you without giving you the time of day.”

I chuckle when he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Yeah, fucker. You did.”

We enter my room, and he leans against the frame. “I take it she’s yet to bite?”

“It’s like she’s got no teeth.”

His head tugs back in shock. “Damn, maybe she has a man?”

I drop onto the edge of the bed, shaking my head.

“You asked ...” he guesses.

I look to him, and he pushes off the wall, his eyes narrowing.

“You pussy-whipped fucker.” His grin is slow. “You asked her.”

“You have to be getting pussy to be pussy-whipped, asshole.”

“That’s debatable, my friend.” He laughs. “So, which is it? She free or taken?”

Running my tongue along my teeth, I let out a heaving breath and turn to face him once more. “She definitely ain’t free.”

Echo gets what I’m saying, and his lips slowly begin to curve.

Tutor Girl doesn’t have a man, but she ain’t free.

She’s mine.

Or she will be.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

CHAPTER 13

Tobias

“Okay, one more time.” Meyer hops off the cement wall and comes closer. “The basic system that makes up the human body include ...?”

“A list longer than Neo’s sexual history.”

She laughs and Neo flips me off from the dugout.

We’ve been taking our study sessions to the field the last couple days because my times been limited and cutting her out of it is something I don’t want to do. That, and if I fail, I’m fucked.

This is the last section test before the midterm and can bump or bust my grade. If I tank it, I have to get a ninety or higher on the midterm and that sounds damn near impossible.

Neo was out here running drills when we got here yesterday, and then popped up again today for some quick sprints, but he’s already swapping out his cleats for the ridiculous Crocs he swears by.

I throw another one into the netting, nodding my chin at Neo as he says goodbye.

“Bye, Meyer,” he singsongs, giving her his best grin and earning one back.

I spin, pretending to throw a ball at his ass and his hands fly up, an embarrassed laugh following.

My lips curve into a smirk.

Asshole.

“Come on, name the first three, at least.”

“I’m never going to remember these.” I turn back to the netting.

“Yes, you can. You said you study stats, right?”

My eyes fly to hers, narrowing, and a hint of a grin finds her lush lips.

I want to bite them.

“You’re onto something, Tutor Girl. I watch twenty-minutes of game film a day.”

She pops both brows. “And we study for two hours almost every single day. You got this. Name the first three.”

Squaring my shoulders, I send the ball flying, and it smacks the little square made of red tape perfectly. I bend to pick up another, frowning when I find the bucket empty, but then Meyer steps up. She’s got a paper in one hand, a ball in the other.

She tosses it up, catching it on its way back down without taking her eyes off me, a small smirk on her lips. “Name three and it’s yours.”

I turn my body so I’m fully facing hers and she squares her shoulders in triumph, as if I couldn’t simply walk my ass over to the net and refill the bucket with the thirty balls waiting there, like I have once already.