Four's Game (SEU, #1) [ SAMPLE]

SAMPLE - CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

FOUR

"Oh, come on! That's a load of crap, and you know it." I muttered, running my hand lazily through my ruffled bed hair.

The after-effects of the edibles I'd taken the night before severely weighed down on me. Being high wouldn't have been a problem on any other day, but today was different. My mother decided it was the perfect day to schedule a meeting with the dean of students to discuss my academic progress.

My jaw clenched as she tapped the back of my hand. She hated when I spoke under my breath; it was a strong pet peeve.

"No, what's a load of crap is that your father and I provide many resources for your education, yet here you are not taking it seriously, Matteo!" My mother hissed. I shrunk inwardly. It wasn't news that I despised to be called by my name, but I guess that's the blessing of having mothers; they were above many rules.

"Mr. Wittstock, I hate to break it to you; however, your mother is right. It would help if you took your studies seriously this semester, or football won't--" I suspected that this conversation with Dean Dr. Walker would lead to a scolding. Unfortunately, I didn't care enough to listen to the lecture, seeing as my parents have generously funded several events for this university.

"Why are you bringing the game into this?" I interrupted rudely, snarling at him through my hazy gaze.

"Watch it, Four!" My dad snapped. He had been so busy on his latest iPhone that I'd forgotten he was in the room.

"You all pretend as if I don't bust my butt on and off the field for this university! Every practice, every game!" I was tired of them giving me crap for a few failed courses. I will admit that a few of these courses were requirements, but they knew the pressure of the game.

"What is it with you and this childhood attachment to this sport? How can you sit before us with that smug look on your face as you bring shame to this family's name?" My father whined.

I chuckled to him, knowing it would only piss him off further. With tired eyes, I pointed my index finger at him. "My degree is only important to you so you can sign me up for one of your projects a year from now, and I can waste my life away living in your shadow."

My parents were overbearing at times. They wanted to control every aspect of my life.

"Matteo, enough! Don't you dare speak to your father this way! He is right." Finally, my mother spoke, her usual luxurious Manolo Blahnik heels tapping against the polished floors as she paced the room. She ran freshly manicured nails over her recently bleached blonde hair and sighed. "You must take your academics seriously, or you will have to say goodbye to football for good."

Once again, a load of crap! Yet, I bit my tongue. Clenching my jaw tighter than before, I diverted my eyes from them and began tapping my hand on the mid-century leather chair that I lounged on. I was agitated but kept my cool as I knew my parents loved to bluff. There was no way they would give up having a star NFL player as a son at one of the most academically accelerated universities in the state to teach me a lesson. They were wealthy and well-known members of society; upholding their image would always be their number one priority.

"We've hired an on-campus tutor to help you with your studies." My mother carried on.

"What?"

"A tutor, son. You need to bring up your grades, or you will be thrown off the team immediately." Dean Dr. Walker spoke. He sorted through a mini stack of manilla folders on his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper that appeared to have a list on it. "Due to the generous donations Mrs. and Mr. Wittstock have given to Southeastern University, the professors on this list have agreed to an alternative route to save your grades for this semester." He slid the paper to me, but I was already out of my chair, standing defensively.

"What is this? I don't need a tutor, Ma."

"Four, have a seat. We are not through!" My father's voice deepened in hopes of intimidating me.

"Yes, we are," I stated firmly, ready to depart from this amateur intervention.

"Matteo!" My mother called out to me as I began marching to the door.

If they thought I would sit here and listen to them lecture me about grades and my future, they had another thing coming. I huffed, feeling the pent-up agitation building within me, begging for a release.

I really should've brought someone home last night, I thought.

I opened the door in a swift motion, ready to storm out but was brought to a sudden halt as someone stood at the door with her hand positioned up, prepared to knock.

Black square-framed glasses were perched on a freckled button nose while big brown eyes lay behind them. Her body frame was petite in comparison to mine. Her skin was a rich deep complexion with high glowing cheekbones accommodated by full lips. She wore her hair pulled into a bun with tight curls escaping every way.

My eyes shamelessly traveled down the length of her body, and a warm sensation rolled down my spine. Although she wore a T-shirt and regular denim jeans, her clothes couldn't hide her curves.

I don't believe I'd ever seen her before, but she was beautiful.

As my eyes travelled back to hers, I was startled to see her thick brows furrowed in confusion and disdain.

I inwardly chuckled to myself. I guess this girl wasn't fond of my staring.

"Ah, here she is." The dean's voice seemed to pull me from my trance. He was making his way around his desk, standing sharply next to my parents as he lent his hand to our new guest. "Mrs. and Mr. Wittstock, this is Tosha Jackson; she will be your son's new tutor for this semester."

In disbelief, Tosha and I looked at one another and blurted out in unison, "What?"

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