Page 74

WILY

Two weeks earlier…

Getting home for Christmas isn’t that hard.

My parents live a forty-minute car ride from campus.

We have exactly five days off to celebrate the holiday season, and I’ve already spent the first two putting on a smile and being the good boy my parents expect me to be.

I bought the Christmas presents they wanted, I laughed and smiled at the gifts I got, too, then snuck away any chance I could get to secretly stress about my failing grades and the fact that my tutor has bailed on me…

and my academic adviser is getting pissy with me for not liking any of the other ones she’s sent my way.

My tutor had his reasons for quitting, and they’re all valid.

Now that he’s a senior, his workload has amplified by more than he was expecting, and he can’t fit me in anymore.

He’s actually been removed from the list of tutors altogether, so it’s nothing personal against me, but that doesn’t take away the stress I’ve been feeling over this whole shit show.

We had a good system going, and now I’m not sure what the fuck to do.

Coach expects good grades no matter how easy or hard school comes for us.

And he’s not the only one. The athletics director demands a lot from his athletes, and he’s anal about any kind of bad press against the school.

Failing grades is apparently bad press, and the pressure is on all of us to perform on the field and in the classroom.

I can’t come across like a dumbass in interviews, and news outlets and social media will jump on anything to create a juicy story.

Zander’s always so fucking good in front of the camera, and so is Grady.

People say I come across pretty damn well, but that’s only because I hide everything behind throwaway comments and a friendly smile.

Does anyone know how much my pulse is racing as I will them not to ask me anything I can’t answer?

Besides all that, my parents raised us to excel, and although they’re more intent on me shining in football, they wouldn’t be very happy if they knew I was flunking out. It doesn’t help that my sister is the most studious academic in the country.

Blake was valedictorian of her high school, for fuck’s sake, and she’s killing it in Chicago this year. I sat through Christmas dinner, watching her elated face as she talked about her various classes and how great everything is going. She’s acing all her coursework and flying through.

I forced a smile and nodded, mumbled that I was proud of her. She gave me her sweet smile, and now I feel like shit for being the dumbest person in this family.

I have to find a new tutor ASAP, and my academic adviser is trying to help me. In my desperation, I asked her what my absolutely lowest grade would be to pass and graduate.

“You shouldn’t be aiming for the lowest, Wily.

You should be trying for the best you can.

I agree with Coach Jones on this.” She crossed her arms and gazed across the desk at me, obviously worried when I thumped the wood and started muttering to myself.

“Look, I know you’re nearly done and that football is in the cards for you, but nothing’s a guarantee in this life.

It’s really important that you still graduate.

We’re not being hard on you because we don’t like you.

We’re doing it because we care about you, and not just how you perform on the field. ”

I huffed and softly lied, “I can’t find a tutor that I like.”

Over the past few weeks, she arranged for me to meet up with three different tutors.

One of them didn’t really have time—he just wanted to meet his favorite Cougar (eye roll)—the other was a fruitcake who wanted me to start each session with a thirty-minute meditation (what the actual fuck?), and the last chick I met with was so hot we ended up doing it in the back of my truck.

I figure there’s no way I’ll learn anything if she’s sitting their distracting me with her luscious tits and a mouth that can suck like a vacuum cleaner.

I couldn’t tell my adviser any of this, so she muttered something about me being difficult before looking back through her list and finding another name.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be away for Christmas, but why don’t you at least get in touch with her and see if you can meet up before school goes back in the new year. ”

“But I have a game.”

“The quarterfinal is on December 31, correct?”

I nodded.

“And I assume you’re returning to Nolan U right after the game? Classes resume a week a week later, so try to connect with her in that time.” She held out the slip of paper to me, and I was forced to take it.

Shit.

I have to call her because both Coach and my adviser are right about me graduating. I mean, I think. Football is the only future I want, so why even bother?

“Come on, man. You gotta graduate,” I mutter, slumping onto the end of my bed. Pulling out that slip of paper, I stare at the name.

Elizabeth Satchwell

She’s a sophomore and has been tutoring students since her freshman year. Damn. She must be a smarty.

Let’s just hope she’s not a hottie or I’m screwed.

Sucking in a breath, I punch her number into my phone and tap the green button. It rings five times before she answers.

“Hello?” Her voice is soft and uncertain.

“Uh, hey. Merry Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.” I laugh.

She doesn’t say anything, and I frown down at the carpet.

After an awkward beat, she asks, “Who is this?”

“Oh, the name’s Wily Wilson. We go to school together.”

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know a Wily Wilson.”

“We haven’t met yet.”

“How’d you get my number?” Her voice sharpens, deepening with suspicion.

“Michelle Bigsby gave it to me. She’s an academic adviser at Nolan U.”

“I know Ms. Bigsby.”

“Well, she gave me your name, so…”

“Wily Wilson,” she repeats, then puts me on speakerphone while she obviously looks something up. “Oh, Wily Wilson. You’re the senior. The football player. She emailed me about you.”

“Yeah.” I smile, starting to relax. This might just fucking work. “So, when do you want to meet?”

She’s slow to respond, and my fingers curl as she makes me sweat it out. Is she about to give me some lame-ass excuse for why she can’t work with me? Shit! I have an assignment due soon, and I really need someone who’s going to get me through it.

“Well, that depends on your schedule… and mine. What days are you free?”

“Well, we’re in playoffs now, so only a few games to go and then my practice time will get a little lighter. I can fit in with you as best I can, just as long as it doesn’t get in the way of football.”

“Or class.”

“Oh.” I brush my hand through the air. “Yeah, I’m not too worried about that.”

“Not too worried?”

“Well, I mean?—”

“Class is really important, Wily. You can’t just skip it to meet with me or do whatever else you do.”

“I wasn’t saying—” I huff. “I go to class, okay? I just need a tutor who will help me understand it and then help with assignments and stuff. My last guy was great.”

“So why aren’t you still working with him?”

“His coursework is getting too intense, and he had to drop some stuff.” I sigh. “I’m fucking gutted to lose him, and I’m kinda desperate to find someone else, so… please? Can you help me?”

She lets out a little sigh, and I’m bracing myself for a big fat no. “Why don’t we have an initial meeting before classes go back? I’m returning to school in a couple days. Let’s meet then, and we can see if working together is a viable option.”

“Okay.” My eyebrows wrinkle. A viable option? Who the fuck is this chick?

“I’ve got your number now, so I’ll text you a time and place. When do you get back to Nolan U?”

“January 1.”

“Okay. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

And then the line goes dead. I pull the phone away from my face and gaze down at the screen.

Shit. Why can’t this be as easy as last time?

I don’t know if I want to work with a chick who goes on about the importance of class and how I should never skip.

Dammit, why did Neil have to quit on me? He was fucking amazing, and now I’m screwed.

There’s a quick knock on my door before it flings open, Blake striding in with a smile.

“Hey, bro.” She skips over to me and takes a seat on the end of my king-size bed. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh, just…” I shrug, then sigh, glancing at my door. “Are the parentals around?”

“No one says parentals, and they’re currently watching a documentary on the history of golf, so you’re good. What’s up?”

Flopping back, I stare up at the ceiling.

“Holy shit, are you frowning? Bro, this must be bad.”

I snicker and shake my head.

“Come on, tell me what’s going on. It’s lil’ Bee you’re talking too. You can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, right.” I steal a glance at her, loving and hating that it’s true.

I do tell her everything because we’re more than siblings.

We’ve been friends since she was born. I was three and half when I met her in the hospital, and I was completely enamored.

I’ve been her protector, her playmate, her secret keeper, and she’s always been mine too.

I adore her.

And she knows I struggle with school, so I let out a huff and admit, “My tutor bailed on me, and I’m struggling to find a new one.”

“Really?” Blake leans over to give me a surprised grin. “I thought people would be lined up around the block to tutor the great Wily Wilson.”

“Fuck off.” I gently nudge her.

She laughs and flops down beside me. “Seriously, though. I thought you’d be able to find a replacement easily enough.”

“My adviser has set up various options, but… it isn’t going well.”

“Why not?”

I hold up my fingers and count off the list. “Superfan, fruitcake, and too sexy.”

“Too sexy? Seriously?”

“We barely got through the intros before she was snatching my hand and dragging me to my truck.”

Blake turns to give me a skeptical frown. “After you invited her there, you big slut.”

I smirk.

“So, you’re out of options, then?”

“I have one more. I just called her, and she seems…” I shake my head.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Like she might be strict and expect me to work really hard. She was going on about never skipping classes.”

Blake slaps my thigh. “She’s the one, then. You need someone who’s gonna crack the whip for ya.”

“I need someone who’s going to do the work for me,” I counter. “The only reason I got through last year was because Neil practically rewrote every assignment I gave him. In the end, he just started doing them for me and dumbing them down so nothing would look suspicious.”

“Oh my gosh.” Blake laughs out the words, then slaps my stomach. “You asshole! I worked my butt off last year, and you just cruise through with a tutor? I officially hate you.”

I grin at her. “You’ll always love me, and you know it.”

“Shithead.”

“Butt face.”

She laughs and nudges me with her elbow. “Well, looks like you might just have to work a little harder this year.”

“Ugh! I hate school,” I growl. “The only reason I’m there is for football.”

“Well, that’s stupid. You’re worth more than that game, Wily.”

I roll my eyes. “I am that game. I’ve been carrying around a football since I could walk.”

“Please don’t tell me the story about how Dad put one in your crib when you were a baby. I’ve heard it so many times, I can’t stomach it.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Okay, fine. You’re all about football, but you’ve done three and a half years of college, and there’s no point flunking out now. You may as well see it through.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I brush my hand through the air. “It’s so easy for you to say, though, Blakey. You’re smart.”

“So are you.”

I give her a side-eye and she doesn’t counter it, which means I’m right and she’s wrong.

I’m a dumbass.

A big, stupid brick wall that can dominate on a football field and flunk out of every class along the way.

“Look, I know it’s tough.” She squeezes my arm, her tone getting serious. “But I’m sure you can charm this chick into tutoring you, and you might even be able to persuade her to do a chunk of your assignments too.”

“You think?”

“Yes.” Blake laughs. “If football is your superpower, then the ability to charm anyone is your trusty sidekick. I don’t know a soul on the planet who doesn’t like you. This girl is gonna be just the same.”

“Thanks, sis.” I sit up, feeling slightly better. Maybe things don’t have to be as bad as I think they are. “Let’s just hope she’s not pretty.”

Blake snorts and sits up beside me. “Is that really such a problem? You can’t control yourself around hotties?”

I give her a helpless shrug and she rolls her eyes, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Let’s look her up and see. What’s her name?”

Pulling out the paper, I show it to my sister, and she googles this Elizabeth chick.

I peer over her shoulder as she scrolls through different options, then says, “Here we go. Elizabeth Satchwell. There’s an article about her in the Nolan U paper.

” Blake snorts and shakes her head. “She’s a brainiac, dude.

Won some academic prize in her freshman year for?—

“Lemme see.” I pull the phone out of her hand, enlarge the image, and find myself staring at a girl with mouse brown hair and drab clothes that look like they belong to an old-school grandmother. She’s standing there holding a trophy and obviously wishing she was anywhere but posing for this shot.

I blink and shrink it back, passing the phone to my sister.

She takes a look, then snorts. “Well, I don’t think you’re gonna have a problem.”

“She’s not that bad.”

“She’s no supermodel, dude.” Blake raises her eyebrows.

“Unless you’re into women who...”—she makes the photo bigger—“look like they suck on lemons.” She giggles.

“You’re gonna have your work cut out for you charming this one, but at least you won’t be tempted to screw her in the back of your truck. ”

“Blake.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” I swallow and stand from my bed, slapping my sister’s leg. “Let’s go play some pool.”

She smirks at me, then snatches my wrist before I can walk away. “It’s gonna be okay, bro. This girl’s gonna help you pass.”

“If she agrees to do my work for me.”

“She will.” Blake winks and saunters past me. “Who wouldn’t want to help out Nolan U’s superstar Cougar?”

Rolling my eyes, I follow my sister down to the rec room on the bottom floor and am determined to demolish her at pool. I need the win like I need fucking oxygen right now.

I am not looking forward to this second semester one little bit…

Or is a certain tutor about to change his mind?

This jock/tutor, curvy girl romance will be available in August 2025.

Get ready to watch this charming football player get the surprise of his life when he falls hard and fast for the shy bookworm and figures out that there’s way more to life than just the game.