The Balled And The Beautiful: A College Sports Romance Story Read online

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  The Balled

  And The Beautiful

  By Nicole Chance

  The Balled

  A Sheepishly Bearly Normal Life

  Downed By Billions

  Austin’s Limit

  Mated For Life

  Chance Is Everything

  About Bargain Romance Books (BRB)

  Chapter 1

  It was spring semester of my fourth year, and I was about to graduate. I was so ready to move on with my life and enjoy my new career. This day would begin like so many previous days; the routine of waking up early and preparing for class. If any assignments were to be submitted on any given day, I would glance over what I had prepared the night before. I was a triple-check kind of student – a perfectionist in fact. Everything would be A.J. Squared Away before actually turning in the work.

  I was a good student. I took pride in maintaining a great GPA, and ranking high in my class. It wasn’t that I wanted to outshine the other students (although, maybe just a little), it was that I actually enjoyed learning new things. I found myself taking interest in almost every subject I studied at college – a genuine interest. I didn’t have any issues with my professors or fellow students, I was always on time, and I preferred to sit in the front row.

  Little did I know what a change in me that this day would bring. As I walked to the first class of my final semester, cherry blossoms were blooming and the campus was blanketed with pink petals. I never took the campus setting for granted. I knew that this time in my life would forge memories that would last a lifetime. My first class was an English class, which made me happy. It was one of my last general education requirements, and I don’t know why I hadn’t taken this class before my final semester. I suppose it’s just a subject that I felt I already knew very well, and I might take a little less interest for that reason.

  On second thought, it was probably because my schedule was usually packed with upper-level classes and extracurricular activities. For this last semester, I was only taking a few classes. I had decided to scale down my “just for fun” courses and take some time enjoy my last slice of college – in essence, to see what I had been missing. I had taken some serious time to assess what I could have possibly missed by committing all of my time to studies. This semester, I was going to have fun and be adventurous. It was a big step for me, but one thing I still wanted to do, was continue with the school newspaper – it was my favorite pastime. I was passionate about it and knew that if I left the staff, the quality of the school newspaper would diminish. I could only hope that someone as capable would take over next year.

  I don’t think I was being overly confident, or had any false illusions of what I brought to the paper. I had many confirmations from the rest of the staff for my ability to observe things that others may have missed.

  I had also discovered a new passion that would almost consume me earlier in life. During high school, a friend of mine had turned me on to starting a martial arts class with her. From the first day of training, I loved it. I loved being physical when I had the opportunity to get away from my studies. I began feeling empowered by what this training could do for me – both physically and spiritually. In the following months, my confidence would grow by leaps and bounds. My dad was behind me one hundred percent. He knew that I would choose college someday, and the idea that I would be able to defend myself while away at school comforted him. I went on to study aikido, long after my friend had moved on from the sport. I still workout daily, and have achieved my brown belt in martial art training.

  As I continued my walk to class, I wondered if I’d have any former classmates with me, or at least a recognizable face or two. Most fellow students in my fourth year had likely gotten English courses out of the way early on.

  I entered the classroom and looked around to see who my classmates would be. I didn’t know most of the people since the majority of them were sophomores or juniors, or least I didn’t know anyone very well. There were a few people that I’d had classes with previously, but whom I had never really gotten to know.

  Just then, my stomach sank as I saw the star player of the football team, Brad Pearson – the quarterback of the team. I barely kept up with football at our school, but I had been to several games for fun, as well as for the school paper.

  I found Brad Pearson to be very attractive, as most, but I was nonetheless repulsed by his reputation. He was an arrogant womanizer. I’d had a few classes with him before and he would always speak out to answer the questions. Half the time he was either wrong or just didn’t know what he was talking about – like he just wanted to be heard by the rest of the class. I didn’t like guys like him. And, although I may have jumped to conclusions after hearing so much about his reputation, I had a gut feeling that his bad-boy rep was spot-on; a thick-headed, more bronze than brain, football jock with very little to bring to society after graduation.

  Brad was the best quarterback that the school had ever seen. He had earned numerous school awards. He was a starter every season, and it was rumored that the Patriots were looking closely at him. He routinely led the team to victory. He now holds the record for the most passing yards and touchdown passes… in the history of our school, as well as the record for the most passes without an interception. This is quite an achievement for any college ball player. I suppose, to me, it would be more respectable if not for his “achievement” off the field with the ladies.

  I remember a couple of bimbos chatting in the library one day about an experience they’d had with Brad Pearson. As they quietly giggled and used their library voices to describe their lust for him, it made me want to puke. This was the kind of guy that was a distraction for these girls – a distraction that would eventually end with them joining the ranks of the college dropout. I could never understand how someone could not see the big picture of why they had enrolled in school in the first place.

  Okay, occasionally, I had to admit that he Brad was pretty on-point with what he brought to class. I didn’t really want to acknowledge that. I had the feeling that it was only because he listened closely to the lectures but probably didn’t bother to study outside of class… that was one of my biggest pet peeves. I pretty much never missed a class unless I was sick. I loved to learn. I always worked hard to get the best grades possible. I’m definitely the responsible type and knowing it’s not my best quality, but I resented those that were less responsible than myself.

  I was a little annoyed that he would be in my class this semester, but at the same time, it was nice to have some eye candy. He was very muscular, but not overly muscular. I suppose I’d describe him as more on the lean side, agile, and ready to move quickly and accurately on the football field. Still, his muscles were well defined and honed to perfection. He had sharp facial features, a strong jaw and piercing hazel eyes with flecks of green that I couldn’t help noticing. I found myself gazing over him a little, not really concerned if I was caught in the act. It was almost relaxing to fix my eyes on him. I’d resigned to suffering the consequences if he were to suddenly turn directly toward me, perhaps catching me in my comfort gaze. To my surprise, h
e remained quietly alone before class started. In fact, he rarely moved, other than an occasional slow movement to run his fingers through his course, sandy hair.

  The professor finally entered the room and broke my trance. He began introducing himself to the class and going over what would be expected of us this semester. He started with reciting the syllabus and touching on the usual first day of class type stuff. Afterwards, he began the first lesson, and left us with our first assignment. The assignment would be due upon returning to the next session. I paid as much attention as I could during class, but I also found myself drooling ever so slightly over Brad’s presence. Again, he was a distraction – a distraction that was affecting even me! It was about 82 degrees out, and he was wearing a tank top that accentuated his thick arms and broad shoulders. A tough looking guy who could easily have considered modeling as a career choice. But, I’d assumed that his future plans would be all about professional football.

  After my English class, I headed to the library to get a bit of studying done before my next class, which would be in two hours. Sitting down at a table, I spread out my stuff, neatly arranging it on the table and making sure my workspace was organized.

  I was surprised when I looked up and saw Brad strolling into the library. He saw me, and we made eye contact just for a moment. I broke contact, looking down at my work, not wanting to draw attention to myself. But Brad took the bait and sat down next to me at the table.

  “Mr. Fuller’s a bit of a tightass, ain’t he?” Brad commented casually.

  “I guess so. I mean, if you stay on top of the material, he’s not so bad,” I said slightly aggressively. I was annoyed with his intrusion on my studies. I was feeling a little defensive; I felt like he was invading my workspace to complain about our professor. I like Professor Fuller and it always irks me when people complain about school. (If they hate it so much, why are they paying thousands of dollars to be taking classes?).

  “Yeah, that’s true,” Brad said, “Have you had him before?”

  “I took History of English Literature with him a few semesters ago,” I said.

  “Oh yeah? I had that class with Professor Hart,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said, raising my brow, “Hart really is a hard-ass.” I smirked. It somehow made me feel satisfied to know that he’d had a difficult teacher and I asked, “How did you do in the class?”

  “I got an A-,” he said cooly. I was actually impressed. I had gotten a B+ in the class that I took with him; grades below an A were a rarity in my transcript.

  “That’s not bad,” I said, trying to hide my shock at his academic achievement. But I also wondered how many other classes he’d taken in which he had done so well. Most of the students on the football team would get some free passes because of their role on the team.

  “Yeah, I was shooting for an A, but he gave me a C on one of my essays. I still think it was unjustified, but what are you gonna do, right?” he said, while obviously only pretending to read something.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. He grades his essays harshly,” I said, smiling. I was beginning to warm up to him a little.

  “Hey,” he said, “Do you want a coffee? I was just about to go to the library café and get something.”

  “Sure. Could you get me a latte? I think I have a couple of dollars,” I said, turning to reach for my wallet.

  “Don’t worry about it – it’s on me,” he said, smoothly getting up.

  “Thanks,” I said, surprised by his generosity. I thought that was really sweet of him. I continued studying a bit while he was gone. When he came back, he sat back down and handed me the latte.

  “Thanks,” I repeated.

  “Hey, it’s not a problem. If you don’t think Fuller’s tough, you deserve it,” he said, laughing. His smile was nice and genuine; I liked the way the corners of his mouth were dimpled. He started reaching into his backpack.

  “Do you mind if I study with you?” he asked politely.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, “Are you going to work on the assignment that Fuller gave?”

  “Naw, I’m actually going to go over the syllabus for my next class and read the intro of the text book,” he said. I was impressed; I wouldn’t have expected him to be the kind of student that comes to the first class of the semester prepared.

  “Cool,” I said, returning to my studying as he began his. We sat there in the library, studying next to each other. I tried to stay focused on my work instead of drooling over the hot specimen of a man sitting next to me. My heart was fluttering a little, but I still got a decent amount of work done in the amount of time I was there.

  “Oh, I have to get going,” he said as he glanced at his watch.

  “Oh, shit, me too,” I said. We walked together since our classes were in the same direction. When we got to my class, I was about to say good-bye, but he surprised me with a question.

  “Hey, there’s this party on Friday at my house,” he said, “Do you want to come? It’s mostly going to be jocks and stuff, but I’d like it if you came. You seem really cool and it would be nice to talk to someone who’s actually intelligent for a change.” He laughed a little bit at the last part. I smiled, trying not to blush.

  “Sure,” I said shyly, not wanting to appear too excited. I had to admit I was a bit nervous, but I didn’t hate him as much as I had expected.

  “Cool, I’ll give you the address and stuff next class, okay?”

  “Yeah, no problem,” I said, “See you later.”

  “Later,” he said, waving as we both turned our backs to each other to go to our respective classes. As I sat down in my desk, I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

  Chapter 2

  At our next class, Brad Pearson sat down right next to me. We chatted pleasantly for a bit before class started and again after class was over. Then we walked to the library together. I was really enjoying his company, but I wasn’t sure how I even felt about it. After we spent some time in the library quietly studying together, he walked me to class again.

  “Oh, I forgot to write down the address for the party,” he said, reaching in his backpack for a piece of paper. He found a sticky note and wrote some things down on it and handed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said without looking.

  “You think you’ll come?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why not? I don’t have anything else going on Friday,” I said, shrugging casually while turning back and smiling at him.

  “Cool,” he said grinning widely, “I’ll see you there, then.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “See you then.”

  I entered the classroom, sat down, and looked at the note. In addition to his address, he also wrote down his phone number. I couldn’t help but swoon a little. Brad Pearson had given me his phone number!

  When I got out of my class, I started the walk home. I didn’t live too far from campus, but it was starting to drizzle a bit. This morning was sunny, so I hadn’t expected rain, otherwise I would have brought a raincoat to class with me. It was that time of year when it’s beginning to get warm out. The sun will shine, but then it rains unexpectedly, helping the flowers to bloom.

  I was walking through the parking lot on campus when I saw a red convertible driving toward me. I wasn’t too surprised to see Brad leaning his head out of the window. It seemed pretty typical that he would have a bright red sports car; I had heard rumors that his family was pretty well off.

  “Hey, where are you going?” he asked.

  “Home,” I said without missing a stride.

  “Do you need a ride?” he asked gesturing toward the cloud-covered grey sky. If it hadn’t been raining, I would have politely declined, but considering the circumstances…

  “Yeah, that would be great,” I said, opening the door. It was just starting to rain harder and I didn’t want to get soaked. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I wouldn’t wanna walk home in the rain either.”

  “Thanks,” I said wi
th a tiny giggle. He drove, while I gave him directions to my house. We started talking about some of the things we had gone over in class and I was impressed with how seriously he was taking the material. He was genuinely interested in it, and I actually felt like we might have something in common. This “arrogant jock” was tugging on my heart.

  When he pulled up to my house, I hesitated. I wanted to keep the conversation going.

  “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea or something?” I asked, not even sure why I did it. It felt so cliché coming out of my mouth.

  “That sounds nice,” he said smiling. We entered the house and Brad slipped his jacket off, revealing the strong muscles that I was so prone to drool over. He truly was a work of art.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” I said, heading to the kitchen. I lived in a small one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t much, but I thought it was pretty charming. Brad sunk way down onto the couch, legs splayed out and looking comfortable.

  “So, what other classes are you taking?” Brad boomed from his position on the couch.

  “Psychology of Prejudice… a Stats class… and my senior seminar,” I said, walking back into the room.

  “Ahh, so, you’re a senior… and a psych major?” he asked.

  “Yep. What classes are you taking?” I asked.

  “A couple of history classes, a child development class for my teaching certificate, and my senior seminar, too,” he said.

  “You want to be,” (hesitating almost imperceptibly), “a teacher?” I asked, somewhat impressed. I hadn’t quite expected that from him. I would have thought he would be a business major or kinesiology or something like that.

  “Yeah. I love kids, and I love learning, so it seems like a good fit. My dad wanted me to do a business major or go to law school, but it just didn’t feel like the right fit to me,” he said.

  “That’s cool!” I said. The kettle started screaming at that moment, and I ran over to turn off the stove.