Sacking The Player

Damn him.

I wasn’t expecting him to be so driven. Guys like Tate have the world eating out of their palm. When he started telling me about his workout routine and how dedicated he is to his sport, it made me admire his determination.

He falls instep next to me as I cross the street to McClintock Avenue.

“Are you following me?” I stop on the sidewalk, but he keeps walking past me, making me feel stupid. Ugh.

Maybe I was a bit rough on him in the beginning, but how was I to know he’s not a complete douche.

“Uh no, I’m heading back to my dorm.” He’s walking backwards now as he talks.

I cross my arms, glaring at him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s sexy, even when he’s not putting forth the effort. “Bullshit, you live in the frat house.” Although having a guy looking like Tate following you around isn’t the worst that could happen. At least he’s pretty.

He shakes his head. “I might be part of a frat, but I don’t live there, otherwise I wouldn’t get any studying done, and I’d just be drunk twenty-four/seven.”

Huh? Well, that’s a surprise.

I give up the stare down and continue walking. I try to speed up, but he keeps up with me. “Seriously, you don’t have to walk with me, dance class is over, we don’t need to be near each other.” I probably smell like a sweaty pig.

He spins back around facing the correct way. “Yeah, and you are a tiny person, and probably don’t know how to defend yourself. You really think I’m gonna let you walk home, alone—in the dark?”

It’s nowhere near sunset, but I don’t point that out to him. “I can handle myself.” I seethe at him. Who the hell does he think he is? I do this walk every single day.

“You probably can, but if I have to walk this way too, may as well walk together. Oh hey, did you know we’re both in Professor Reynard’s Sports Medicine class?”

Of course I knew. “Why are you taking that class?”

“It’s my fall back. Accidents happen. Injuries can end careers before they even begin. I just want to be prepared in case…” Something tells me he knows all too much about how damning an injury can be.

Well shit, that’s mine too. He doesn’t need to know that though. We have enough in common as it is.

“Amaya!” I freeze hearing that high pitched voice—Keith, my dick of an ex-boyfriend.

We dated for two years before I found out what a jerk he is. I never really went to his frat parties or after game parties, but one night I did. It was the year end bash, and I decided to just go for it. I shouldn’t have, I should have stuck to my room and focused on packing up. I recognized a few of the guys because I had briefly met them before, but none seemed to know who I was as I walked through the house looking for Keith. When I finally said that I was his girlfriend, they started laughing, saying Keith didn’t have a steady girl.

I brushed off their comments and went to find him. Sure enough going up the stairs, the first room on the left, there he was, door open and pounding into some brunette. To say I lost my shit would be an understatement. I threw a trophy from the hall at him. He looked over to me and instantly started his spiel of being so damn sorry. I didn’t care to hear any of it. Cheating scumbag. It was at that moment, with his groveling, that the music turned off, and the house went silent. Everyone was just staring at us from the bottom of the stairs in shock. They all seemed floored by the fact that Keith did indeed have a girl.

Whatever. I’m totally over it. But doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him now.

“Fucking prick, I can’t believe he’s still trying to talk to me after what he did,” I mutter under my breath.

Tate’s thick arm goes around my waist. I’m caught off guard, but I have to say, the warmth and strength his hold provides is inviting. And he is keeping Keith at bay. He sort of scares me sometimes with how possessive he gets. Any time a guy tries to talk to me, he goes crazy on them and they run the other way. I’ve lost a few friends thanks to him and his antics. I have even thought about getting a restraining order on him.

I whisper to Tate, “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Just go along with it,” he encourages with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes. I hesitate, afraid of the scene I know my jerk ex-boyfriend will make, but this is Tate King. Keith wouldn’t dare go toe to toe with him, surely.

Maybe I’m wrong. His face is angry as he charges toward us.

“What the fuck?” Keith growls when he gets closer. His blond hair has been buzzed off and he’s lost weight. There’s a tattoo of a half-naked woman on his arm, that wasn’t there last time I saw him.

I’m having an extremely hard time remembering what I found so attractive about him as I stand next to Tate and his Godly sex appeal. I have been trying to avoid Keith at all costs since school started back up. Sometimes, I even change my route from my dorm to my classes so he can’t creep up on me.

“What’s up, man?” Tate asks him.

“What the hell are you doing with my girl?”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Keith? You cheated on me, we’ve been broken up for months, I’m not your girl, you made that pretty clear when not one friend of yours even knew you had a girlfriend.”