Player (What Happens on Campus Book 1) Read online

  Player

  What Happens On Campus, # 1

  By M L Sparrow

  Copyright © 2016 M L Sparrow

  Cover Design by Deranged Doctor Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination.

  For Lucy. Thanks for all your help, feedback and most of all, your friendship. Also, thanks for your help on selecting the cover, I don’t think I ever would have made a decision if not for your advice!

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Flirt

  “You deserve to be with somebody, who knows you’re the one, from that very first moment he lays eyes on you.” – C. JoyBell C.

  Chapter One

  “Hi, sweetheart. How you doing?” Chloe’s dad poked his head around the door and smiled at her, before stepping inside and walking over to perch on the bed beside her.

  “I’m good,” she lied, leaning into his side as he put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tight.

  “You’re not packed yet,” he stated, nodding towards where her suitcase lay open on the floor, clothes, shoes, cosmetics and the like, strewn around the small room.

  “I can’t fit it all in,” she answered morosely, swinging out her foot to kick at the case; she had the monster of all suitcases and she still couldn’t fit everything inside.

  “I’m sure we can figure it out.” That was so like her dad, he always thought there was a way to fix any problem. Giving her shoulder another quick squeeze, he got down on the floor and began organizing everything into piles. Watching him, a sudden lump formed in her throat. She’d miss him. She’d miss her mum too. And her room, and this house, and the neighbourhood she’d grown up in. She didn’t really have any friends to miss, they’d all drifted away over the past few years.

  Sitting back on his heels, her dad held up her hot water bottle, breaking into her miserable thoughts. “Chlo, you’re going to South Texas, not Alaska. Are you sure you need this?”

  “It helps me sleep.”

  For a moment, her dads face scarred over with pain, but then he nodded and said gruffly, “All right then.” Forcing a smile, he gestured to the bed, “Is Rolo crossing the Atlantic, too?”

  Turning to the little brown bear she’d had since childhood, with his ragged ear and a faded blue ribbon around his neck, Chloe smiled slightly. “No, I thought I’d leave him here to guard my room. I don’t want you guys renting it out or anything,” she joked weakly.

  “In that case, I’ll make sure I feed him.”

  “Thanks.”

  Slipping off the bed, she knelt beside him and proceeded to help gather the stuff she’d scattered around the room in a frustrated rage. Once it was all together, she sat back and watched as he somehow managed to fit it all into the suitcase, rolling up her clothes and stuffing socks into her shoes. When his fingers reached out for a frame holding a picture of Chloe and her older brother, Jack, he faltered, picking it up and staring at the happy faces of his children beaming back at him.

  “I’m going to put that in my hand luggage,” she said softly, “I don’t want it to get broken.”

  Clearing his throat, he handed the precious photo over. “That’s a good idea.” Shaking his head, he made a visible effort to push aside the bad memories, asking, “Have you got your passport, your ticket?” She nodded to each item. “Inhaler? The emergency credit card I gave you?” Again, she nodded but the lump in her throat grew bigger.

  “Dad,” she choked out, “what if I don’t want to go anymore?”

  Sighing, he held out an arm. “Come here.” When she was tucked into his side, he kissed her forehead. “That’s just the fear speaking. You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship and you’re going to have a great time once you’re over there.”

  “What if I don’t like it?” she whispered, barely audible from where her face was buried against his shoulder, “What if I get lonely without you guys?”

  “Well, then you can always come home, but you owe it to yourself to at least try.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded against his shoulder.

  The next day, her parents drove her to the airport and waved as she went through security – Chloe was sure she saw her dad wipe away a tear.

  “You’ll love it,” he whispered in her ear as he gave her one last, tight hug. Her mum did the same and then Chloe stepped away from them, trying to hold back her own tears.

  Just before she turned the corner, she glanced back to see her dad’s arm around her mum’s shoulders, both of them smiling with their hands lifted in farewell. She drank in the sight of them and tried to remember the feel of their embrace, since she didn’t know when she’d see them next. The thought made her choke up all over again and she turned away quickly, after one last wave, before she made a fool out of herself in the middle of the airport, surrounded by holiday-goers.

  Airside, she made her way to the correct terminal as if in a daydream; her dad had been right, she had worked hard for this and she’d wanted it for a long time. She’d planned to get a scholarship to study in America straight out of college, but unfortunately things hadn’t worked out that way. Tragedy had struck their family and two years had passed before Chloe’s heart had healed enough to even consider carrying on with her life.

  At twenty, she would be a little older than most other freshman and she was a little concerned that the age gap would make it harder to make friends, but she had done perfectly well with no friends for the past two years, so she supposed they weren’t really necessary.

  After Jack died, none of her old friends had known what to say or do and she hadn’t cared enough to hang onto them, so they’d just drifted away.

  Instead of university, she got a job in retail and immersed herself in work. Being busy dulled the pain. However, when her despair hadn’t faded after almost a year, her parents had taken matters into their own hands. Digging the scholarship applications and university brochures out from under her bed, they’d sat her down and all but forced her to fill out the appropriate forms.

  Sometime during the strenuous process, something akin to passion had taken hold and she’d found herself actually feeling something for the first time since Jack’s death. When he’d been alive, her big brother had loved the idea of her studying abroad, he’d been so proud. He’d even helped her study for her SAT’s, patiently explaining mathematical problems that made her head spin time and time again.

  When it came time to board, she hefted her rucksack onto her shoulder and joined the queue of other passengers. This was the start of her big adventure, she knew, and she’d live it for herself, but also for Jack.

  On the plane, she got a window seat and slid in past a young couple who said they were going on their honeym
oon and tried to strike up a conversation. If she said more than one word at a time though she felt like she’d burst into tears and eventually they got the message and began fiddling around with their TV screens.

  Chest tight, she listened intently to the safety announcement to distract herself and when that was over and they were finally ready for take-off, she forced her body to relax back against the seat, staring out of the window as the tarmac blurred beneath them. Her ears popped painfully as they rose upwards and she gripped the armrests as the plane shuddered.

  Once they had evened out and the seatbelt sign was turned off, she squeezed past the honeymoon couple and made her way down to the toilet, holding onto the tops of seats to stop herself falling. Was it her legs that were wobbling, or the floor?

  Locking herself inside the tiny cubical, Chloe braced her hands on the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Leaning in closer, she wiped at the skin beneath her eyes, where a few stray tears had blurred her mascara, and took several deep breaths. The last thing she wanted to do was have an asthma attack at 30,000 feet.

  Everything she knew was disappearing beneath her and what lay ahead was unknown, however much she’d tried to prepare. It was a scary thought, but she couldn’t exactly turn back now.

  Heading back to her seat, she plugged in her headphones and fiddled with the TV for a while, before getting out her Kindle and spending the rest of the flight reading. They hit turbulence at one point and some woman a few rows back began freaking out and yelling that she wanted to get off, as if this were a funfair ride. What did she want them to do, open the door and chuck her out?

  Finally, they touched down in Toronto and Chloe trudged off the plane, only to have to rush to get on the next one, which would take her to Texas. By that point, she’d got over her nerves and now she just wanted to get there; travelling always made her feel weary.

  The second flight wasn’t as crowded and she had a whole row to herself. Kicking off her shoes, she used her jacket as a blanket and lay down across the three seats, but she couldn’t sleep; she rarely did, because if she slept she would dream. Thankfully the flight wasn’t long, just over three hours, and when she stepped off she breathed a sigh of relief. However, she still had baggage claim and passport control to deal with.

  Sighing when she saw the queues, she hitched her rucksack further up onto her shoulder and prepared herself for the wait. Surprisingly, it went quickly, though not quickly enough for the man behind her who huffed and puffed and complained loudly enough that the people in front turned to look back at him.

  When she stepped up to the desk, she anticipated the third inquisition, but the woman behind the glass merely asked to see her visa documents and waved her on. That must be the most boring job in the world, Chloe thought; she bet they had to deal with obnoxious idiots on a daily basis.

  By some stroke of luck, her suitcase was one of the first to be carried out on the conveyer belt and she squeezed through the crowd to get it, grabbing the side handle and heaving it off with a grunt of effort, knocking it painfully against her knees.

  Following the signs for the exit, she pulled her suitcase along behind her as she left the airport, stopping just outside the sliding door to glance up and down in search of a taxi. Spotting a layby full of them, she headed in that direction.

  When she got closer, the first driver in the line of vehicles got out and walked around the front of the car. “Taxi for you, miss?”

  “Yes, please. Could you take me to St. Joseph’s University?”

  “‘Course. Here, let me take that. You jump in.” Taking her suitcase, he wheeled it around to the boot and she heard a thud as he hauled it in.

  The driver, the badge taped to his dash said his name was Phil, tried to make small talk as they drove, but she was too busy watching him drive with only one hand on the steering wheel, waving the other one as he talked, and barely even glancing in his mirrors before pulling out.

  Bad drivers made her nervous. Gripping her seat, she clenched her jaw and tried not to have a panic attack.

  “Here were are,” he announced a while later and she took her eyes off him just long enough to peer out the window and determine that it was too dark to see anything other than the outlines of big, looming buildings, parts of which were illuminated by the glow of street lamps. There weren’t many people around, but she supposed most of the students hadn’t arrived yet.

  “What building you in?”

  Rummaging around in her rucksack, she pulled out a sheaf of papers and rifled through them until she found the one with her accommodation details, scanning it for the building name.

  “Willow,” she answered after a moment and he turned a sharp right onto another street. She thought it was kind of cute that all the buildings were named after trees.

  Stopping with a jerk, which made her seatbelt snap tight, Phil said, “Here it is.”

  Craning her neck, she stared out of the window at the building which was to be her new home.

  Chapter Two

  “Where are you going?” Karla asked, propping herself up on an elbow to watch him as he pulled on his jeans and looked around for his shirt. “Why don’t you just spend the night here?” Smiling seductively, she sat up and let the sheet drop.

  Parker couldn’t help but look, what guy could resist? Karla had a perfect body and great tits, too bad she was as mean as a snake when she wasn’t trying to sweet-talk a guy into her bed.

  “Come on, Kar,” he sighed – he was sick of her games already and he’d only been back on campus a couple of days – “you know how it is. We’re just fuckin’, nothin’ else. I’m not cuddlin’ you like some doe-eyed freshman you got wrapped around your finger.”

  “Fuck you, Parker,” she spat angrily, seductive look completely gone, “I wouldn’t date you if you were the last guy on earth.”

  Laughing, he found his shirt slung over the desk and pulled it on. “You already fucked me and it was amazin’. You’re one of my favorite booty calls.”

  “You’re such a dick,” she raged, still gloriously naked, “get out of my room.”

  “A minute ago you asked me to stay.”

  “Aaahh! Get out!” She threw the bottle of water on the bedside table at his head.

  Dodging the missile easily, he scooped up his sneakers, jammed his baseball cap onto his head and left, still laughing.

  He should probably feel bad for acting like such a jerk, he thought as he knelt to tie his laces in the hallway, but Karla could take it; she was as mean as they came and he couldn’t force himself to feel sorry for treating her the way she treated everyone else. Anyway, she knew the deal – he wasn’t looking for a girlfriend; he needed to concentrate on football. This was his third year and he had to work extra hard if he wanted to get into the NFL when he graduated. Besides, he didn’t want to be tried down to just one girl, where was the fun in that?

  Practice had started yesterday and it had felt good to get back out on the field with his team and best mate Dawson. This year was going to be a great one, he could feel it; the team was fresh and strong, with new talent having joined in the form of several freshmen.

  Bypassing the elevator, since it was broken already, he headed for the stairs. Despite what his family thought, university wasn’t all fun and games and he needed to get in a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow morning.

  Halfway down the stairs joining the third and fourth floor, he paused as he turned the corner and saw a girl leaning against the wall with her hands braced on her knees, panting. Beside her stood the most humongous suitcase he’d ever seen, which she’d evidently been hauling up the stairs.

  As he watched, she reached down to the black rucksack at her feet and fished out a blue inhaler, taking a couple of puffs before straightening up again and pushing the hair back from her red face.

  “D’ya want a hand with that?” he asked, making her jump, her head whipping around to face him. Immediately, he felt his body reacting, even after spending the af
ternoon screwing around with Karla. The girl was gorgeous. Even with a face as red as a tomato.

  Big brown eyes stared up at him in surprise, framed by dramatically long lashes, and for a moment all they did was look at one another, before her face became impossibly redder and she glanced away, biting her lip uncertainly.

  “A hand would be great,” she admitted, glancing scathingly down at the big blue suitcase, “it’s really heavy.” Her words didn’t register for a minute as his brain tried to place her accent. British, he thought, clipped and well-rounded. He could listen to her talk forever.

  Taking the last few steps, he held out his hand, introducing himself. “Parker Mitchell, at your service.”

  “Hi,” she smiled up at him, tucking a strand of dark, coffee colored hair behind her ear before reaching out to shake his hand, “I’m Chloe. Chloe Newman.”

  “What floor you on?”

  “Sixth,” she answered with a downwards quirk of her lips.

  Whistling between his teeth, he grabbed the handle of the suitcase as she picked up her rucksack, putting the inhaler back inside. Half way there, at least.

  Lifting the case, he huffed out a breath, “Jesus… I’m impressed you got it this far, it’s probably heavier than you are.”

  Wincing guiltily, she twisted a piece of hair around her finger in a nervous gesture. “Sorry. I can probably manage if…”

  Laughing, slightly dismayed that she thought he’d let her finish lugging it up the stairs when he was easily twice her size, he shook his head. “I got it. Imagine how bad I’d feel if I woke up tomorrow and found that the cute British girl had a heart attack tryin’ to get to her room.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  Grinning at the blush that once more filled her cheeks, he gestured up the stairs, “Lead the way.”

  If she went in front, he could check out her ass. Not the most gentlemanly thing, but then he’d never claimed to be a gentleman. And she had a good ass. He felt his heart beat faster; she was all lush curves and long, denim clad legs. Tall, for a girl; he was six three and she was only a head or so shorter. He was in deep shit, Parker thought as he followed her up the stairs, trying to tear his eyes away.