The Jock Read online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman (North Woods University #6)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: North Woods University Series by J.L. Beck
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
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“That’s her. She poured the beer on Cage.”

“I heard she’s a bitch, a cold-hearted one.”

“The only girl to ever turn him down.”

The whispers spread like wildfire and are all I can hear as I move between classes. In the last two weeks, all I could hope for was the ground to swallow me whole, and that everyone would forget me.

It seems fate had other plans because Cage arrived at the library as the new student I would be tutoring. Well, I would’ve been tutoring him had he shown up on time. I don’t work with people that can’t keep an appointment.

I bet he was late because he was screwing some chick.

I shake the thought away. I don’t really care what he was doing. All I care about is the fact that he was late and that he wasted my time. By the time I get back to my dorm, it’s eight. Getting dinner took way longer than I intended.

Tossing my backpack to the floor, I fall onto the bed. I stare up at the ceiling, the silence within the room drowning me. Alone. Forever alone. I suppose I should be grateful that I don’t have to share a space with anyone yet. Things could be worse.

Placing my hands on my stomach, I try to think of anything but the cocky, gorgeous athlete that has garnered me more attention than I could ever want. Thankfully, my cell phone rings, interrupting my thoughts before they can twist into something else.

I pluck the device from my pocket and stare down at the number on the screen. It isn’t one I recognize, but I answer it anyway, knowing there aren’t many people that have my number.

“Hello.”

“Hello, is this Blair Jensen?”

“Yup.”

“Hi, Blair. This is Coach Willard. I’m calling about Cage. I’m the one that set up the tutoring session this evening. I wanted to see how things went.”

“Well, it went about as good as being late and not having the session could go. Cage was late, so I left. If he’s not going to respect my time and take me seriously, then I’m not going to work with him.”

“Damnit!” he growls into the phone. “I’m sorry, Blair. I understand what you mean. I just need him on the team. He’s a damn good ballplayer, and I don’t want his academics to stand in the way of him being able to play.”

“I get it, but if he’s not showing up to do the work, I can’t help.” And that’s the truth. No matter what you do, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want help. Not that I don’t think Cage wants the help, he wouldn’t have shown up if he didn’t care.

He just didn’t care enough, clearly.

“Okay, I’ll have a talk with him. You think you could give him another chance?”

Ugh. The last thing I want to do is be confined to a small space for an hour, twice a week, with my arch enemy. Still, I couldn’t let my dislike of the guy sway my choice on helping him. In the end, tutoring was an easy way to make money, and I need the money.

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

Coach Willard sighs into the phone. I know it’s not the answer he wants to hear, but it’s the only one he’s getting right now. “All right. Let me know. In the meantime, I’ll have a talk with him and get him on track. If you give him another chance, I promise he won’t waste your time.”

“Okay, I’ll make a decision and let you know,” I reply before ending the call.

Climbing off the bed, I grab a pair of clean sleep shorts and a tank top. It’s not like anyone will see me anyway. As I undress and undo my bra, I let out a sigh. Who knew that undoing your bra could bring such great joy?

Tossing the clothes into the hamper, I trudge back to the bed, grab my backpack, and unload my books. I have a lot of homework and some studying to do, but I don’t feel like doing anything but curling under the covers and reading a book.

Still, homework won’t do itself, and I’m determined to maintain my 4.0 GPA this semester. Grabbing a bottle of water from the minifridge, I get situated underneath the covers, organizing my books, notebooks, and pens where I want them.

I’ve just cracked open my economics book when my phone starts to ring. I swear to God if it’s Coach Willard, I’m tossing the damn thing out the window.

Seeing MOM flash across the front of the screen, I hit the green answer key.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie, how are things going?” This is her subtle way of asking if I’m making any friends or getting the full college experience.

“Things are good. Classes are great. I still don’t have a roommate, but I think that might change soon with the end of the semester coming up.”


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