Misadventures with a Rookie Read online

  “You are lying!” Maci called out. “What? Did you not go for a guy?”

  I scoffed at that. “No. No dude would hold me back from my dreams like that. It wasn’t that. Really, I didn’t get in.”

  “No, you did. You’re smart. Like, übersmart. Isn’t she the top of the class?” Shania asked, and everyone nodded. “Yeah, way too smart for our little PT school.”

  “Hey, I love our PT school.”

  “We do too,” Lizzy said, but then she held her finger out, pointing it at me. “But I also know you would’ve gone to Stanford if you could have, so spill it. Everyone else has, so you have to also.”

  I started to sputter, unsure what to say, because there was no way I would admit why I didn’t go to Stanford. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I felt my skin prickle with sweat, and I wanted to run. I hadn’t told anyone why I moved here. Why I ran away from home and from my dream of being a doctor. I couldn’t. My secrets were embarrassing and pitiful.

  I was a pathetic excuse for a human being according to some people—especially my parents.

  Before I could try another lie, we were interrupted. “Listen…”

  My anxiety went through the roof. I was panicking under the stress of the conversation, the emotions of what I’d been through and what I was trying to move past, and when my gaze met his, I couldn’t breathe. “You.”

  He waved awkwardly, and for the first time, Gus looked unsure of himself. That moment of vulnerability on his strong features was sort of hot. “Yeah, me.”

  He was so close, only inches away, and I swore I could feel the heat from his large body. Before he could go on, I was off my bar stool, pushing it between us. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you. I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  I laughed but without humor, a nervous tone in my voice. “We haven’t gotten off on any foot. There is no need for a foot. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  He paused, and I heard some of the girls gasp behind me. Apparently these girls never rejected Gus. Well, I wasn’t like them, and I was pretty sure I made that clear.

  “See,” he said. “I don’t understand that. Please, explain.”

  I glared. Usually, I’d walk away. Especially since I don’t have to explain myself to anyone. But I guess the alcohol and anxiety were burning hot in my veins, because soon I was leaning on the chair, holding his gaze. “I don’t have to explain anything to you. You’re nothing to me.”

  He pointed to me. “See? What is that hostility?”

  I glared. “There is none.” Well, of course there was. “I don’t want to talk to you, but since I’m pretty sure you won’t leave me alone—”

  “Oh, good. This is killing me, and the fact that I don’t know your name is really bothering me. So please spill.”

  “Can I speak?”

  He nodded, his eyes narrowed. “Go right ahead, but tell me your name first. And are you from Minnesota? You have that very Minnesota tone.”

  The girls giggled behind me. I was pretty sure he was making fun of my accent.

  Asshole.

  “I’ll never tell you my name, and that’s that,” I snapped, shaking my head. “And what makes you think I’m from Minnesota?”

  He grinned, his teeth so white and so straight. Probably fake. “The way you say Minnesooooota.”

  I glared, and he kept on grinning.

  “So why don’t we just add your name in there, and we can be on good terms?”

  “We will never be on good terms.”

  “We will.”

  “Never,” I grated. “Because I don’t want anything to do with you. You are not the kind of guy I want to be around.”

  “You don’t even know me!” The look on his face, one that probably meant he was serious, had me laughing.

  “Oh, I know you fine and well,” I decided.

  “You do not.”

  “I do too!” I hollered back, and yes, I realized we sounded like two kids, but I didn’t care. “Just go away.”

  “No, you claim to know me,” he said, his voice stern. He got closer, leaning into the bar, his face right in line with mine. So close I could see the stubble on his jaw and a little cut along his lip that was new and fresh. I wanted to touch it. I wasn’t sure why, probably because I was drunk, but soon I forgot all about that as he whispered, “So tell me, redhead, who am I?”

  “Who are you?” I asked, my eyes darkening as I leaned in. “Well, let me tell you.”

  Chapter Five

  Gus

  Redhead’s eyes were blazing blue. So bright, almost like crystals, as she glared back at me. She was fire hot, and fuck, I wanted to kiss that pouty mouth of hers. Or even the space between her eyes that was full of angry wrinkles but so damn hot. She looked so annoyed, and I must say, I was really digging the splotches of color along her face. I wondered if they were all over her. I liked how she looked at me. I bet she really thought she was acting out of anger or even hatred, but I knew it was out of lust. I just needed to make her realize it.

  And then, right to bed we’d go.

  But before that could happen, she obviously had something to say. Her lips were trembling and her body was shaking as she glared up at me. I wanted to laugh, I did, but I was pretty sure she would hit me.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted that or not…

  “Bet you grew up in one of those big fancy houses with the built-in rink in the back yard that your daddy spent hours on. I bet you had a car by fifteen—and not some beater car. You had a Camaro or, better yet, a Lexus. You never had to beg for a girl’s attention, ever. You had the girls doing your homework every day, and the teacher’s assistant made sure you got the answer key so you could memorize it.” She paused, her eyes full of fire.

  I couldn’t disagree with her. She was hitting every nail on the head. With more force than I expected.

  “You were idolized as a kid. The star player. Everyone loved you. You were treated like a god, and you let it go to your head because why wouldn’t you? Everyone loved you, everyone wanted to have sex with you because you’re Gus Persson, and everyone wanted a piece. Then you come here, again the star, even if you think you should have gone straight to the Tornadoes. So to make sure everyone knew they made a mistake, you start playing super hard here, just to keep the idolization going. You’re obnoxious so people see you, hear you. Because you love the attention. You yearn for it. But I’m here to tell you, Gus Persson, you’ll never get it from me. Ever.”

  Swallowing hard, I kept my eyes on her, and soon I realized we were both breathing hard. Her little speech hit home on many levels. Maybe she did know me, and I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. No, I did… It turned me the fuck on. The way her breasts were rising and falling with each breath, the wild in her eyes, and those lips in that pout—it was deadly. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. Fuck, I wanted her, but to keep from doing that, I crossed my arms, clicking my tongue as I held her gaze. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

  “Yes,” she somehow got out before taking a step back, probably thinking the distance would halt what was brewing between us. “And I know all you want is to fuck me and nothing else. I won’t be another little mark on your hockey stick, big boy. I deserve more than that.”

  The girls behind her all looked away, embarrassed. I could hear my friends laughing and razzing me, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered at that moment but her. I didn’t even know her name—didn’t know anything, really—but I wanted to know it all. And then some. If she thought I didn’t see her reinforce herself against the table to keep from falling over, I did, and that meant one thing.

  I affected her.

  I didn’t have to be obnoxious or cocky to see that.

  With a tip of my lips, I asked, “So now it’s my turn, right?”

  Her brows came in, her eyes darkening as she looked up at me. “Huh?”

  “My turn,” I said once more, this time pressing my elbows into the chair so that w