Chapter 3

Cassandra

I dig my hands into the pockets of my gray sweatpants, anxiously waiting to be called on. I keep my head down and dig my heel into the damp dirt, marking my white sneakers. The obnoxious sing-song voices of my peers and the loud noise emitting from Mr. Ronaldo's whistle is all I can hear in this entire damn field.

Why soccer? Can't we do something else for physical education?

"Cassandra!" Crayvin calls out with a raucous voice. His brows furrow when I look up and make eye contact. The eyes I used to admire are cold and calculating as a slight close-lipped smile grows on his face. I cringe at the smugness that radiates from the condescending douche.

Fidgeting with my short fingers against the inside material of my sweatpants, I shift glances around the field, and my eyes widen when I realize why he called my name. Everyone was chosen for teams and I, like always, am the last pick of the crop. Moping, I drag my feet over towards Crayvin's team.

I stand in the goalie position, watching as everyone is jetting across the field, in hopes of getting the white and black ball into the net of their opponent. My eyes shift to Crayvin's athletic form as he runs across the field. Before last week, P.E. was my favorite time because I was able to watch him. But now, when I look at his tall and athletic build, I instantly remember how monstrous he is. The way his straight, white teeth bite on his lower lip when he's either nervous or determined, and his big, prominent eyes drive me insane. Even the small scar just below his lower lip, something I once found adorable, now makes me want to grind my teeth in agitation.

Okay, maybe I still find the scar adorable. But, once you take away all of his good outside features, you're left with nothing but his cocky spitefulness who feels entitled to anything.

I shift my weight from side to side as soon as I notice a tall, imposing, fast-moving guy kicking the ball with a vengeance towards me. My arms stretch outwards and I blink as I see his leg swing back and forward to kick the ball with the tip of his foot. With one eye, I open it back up to see what has happened, and there is nothing but scrutinizing looks directed at me. I turn my head and see that the ball made it past me, scoring a point for the other team.

Mr. Ronaldo blows his whistle, indicating that it's time to run in and change out. I start to jog with the rest of the students and end up tripping over my own foot when I hear someone snicker behind me, "Run fat girl, run!"

With my vision distracted, I crash right into Crayvin and knock both of us down. The crackling noises of the students surround me as I immediately roll my body off Crayvin's. His eyes narrow and his face has turned a crimson red. He stands up, wiping the mud off his shirt, and puffs out his chest as he looks down at me, still sitting on the ground.

"Seriously? Your bodyweight about crushed me," he snarls and retreats to the locker room.

"Trying to squish our captain, huh?" Faith speaks, delving the tip of her foot in the dirt and kicking some onto me. "That's for making us lose. We put you as the goalie hoping that the ball couldn't fit around you, but you even managed to fail at that. What a joke." She spits, flicking her perfect hair over one shoulder. After one last sneer at me, she dashes off towards Crayvin and throws her arm around his waist.

"Cassandra!" My sister sighs, nudging my shoulder with hers and snapping me out of my recollection of the past.

"Sorry, what?" I turn my head to face her.

She lifts her bottle of beer to her lips and smiles. "Look over there, isn't that the guy that lives in our apartment complex?"

I follow her gaze towards the pool tables when my eyes land on him. The guy with sandy brown hair and blue eyes that I have been admiring the past month strikes the solid yellow ball with his cue stick. He's tall, athletic build is something to admire.

I shift back in the barstool, resting my forearms on the bar and holding my beer with both hands.

"Yeah, that's him alright." I bring my eyes back to Tarra, who's now smiling at me.

"Well, go talk to him. He's hot," Tarra says, and I let out a loud laugh, snorting at her comment.

"Oh, yeah sure. Let me just go over there and pull some moves on him," I sarcastically say, turning my attention back to my beer.

"Come on, Cassandra." Her words flow over the slightly sticky bartop our elbows rest on. "You haven't been laid in what, a year?"

I arch my brow and look at her momentarily, before turning my head sideways. "A year and a half," I admit.

I've only had sex with one person before and it wasn't anything special. Anderson, my fuck buddy if you will, was basically the only thing that would take my mind off of my father's death. But as soon as it was over and I kicked him out of my bed, the depression tried to seep through again.

"Yeah, that's ridiculous. As I said, it's time to celebrate." My sister is quite the serial dater and she's also a registered nurse. So to her, sex is like a study of the human body, just one that she particularly likes. "You just don't find sex as fun because you've only hooked up with what's-his-face, and he was probably like a starfish. He just laid out and did nothing while he got to finish. You need to find someone to give you an orgasm..."

I choke on the beer that was halfway down my throat and cough, my eyes watery. Shaking my head, I interrupt her with, "Okay, okay. Stop, Tarra. I'm not on a quest to get laid to your dismay. Sorry." I shrug my shoulders and turn my attention back towards the bar, observing all of the different styled bottles of alcohol that sit on the clear shelves.

She turns her bar stool so that her body is facing the pool tables behind us and leans in, her breath hitting my cheeks when she talks. "You're twenty-one. It doesn't mean you can't just have fun." She wiggles her brows and hops off of her stool.

I watch her as she walks over to the pool tables and starts a conversation with the guy from our apartment complex. I pull the bottle of beer to my rose-colored lips and my eyes widen when I observe Tarra smirking and pointing at me. The guy looks up and squints his eyes to do a once over before smiling at me. I turn right back around, facing the bar again with my heart beating rapidly, my nerves shooting straight to my cheeks.

I feel a finger poke my back, turn around, and see a long, bony finger that belongs to him. My lips open slightly, about to speak, as he takes a seat in Tarra's stool and offers out his hand for me to shake. I put my hand in his and shake it. His hand is soft, yet strong.

"I'm Drew. You've got quite the handshake there, you mean business," he announces.

My cheeks immediately warm as I pull my hand back and wrap it around my beer. Using my opposite hand, I push back a strand of hair behind my ear and smile at Drew. "I'm Cassandra."

I watch as his eyes scan me slowly, taking me in, and I can't help but suck in a sharp breath. Up close, I can see the light stubble on his protruding chin. When he smiles, there is slight discoloration to his straight teeth, so he's possibly a smoker, which is a turn off for me. I gently shake my head at myself for observing him like an Officer observes his arrest. He's still cute, and as Tarra said, I just need to have fun.

"What do you say, Cassandra. Want to play some pool? My friend is pretty distracted and I'm a little bored over there playing by myself." He nods his head, gesturing to the guy against the wall in a heavy make-out session with a blonde. I can't see his face since it's basically being sucked off, but his friend has a white shirt on with his broad back facing us.

"Sure, why not?" I reply. I turn from the bar when Drew puts his hand out to help me off the stool. I stand from the stool and Drew looks down at me and smiles, approvingly.

I decided on wearing tight black leather pants, a deep-colored red shirt that reveals my shoulders, and my black high heels to make myself appear taller than my actual size. I follow Drew over to the pool tables, grab a cue stick, and stick my tongue out at Tarra without Drew noticing. She puts a hand over her mouth to cover her proud smile.

"So how should we do this? I can break and you two go against me, or?" Drew questions, while chalking up his cue stick.

I grab a cue stick from the holder and begin to chalk mine up as well when Tarra leans against the pool table, folds her arms over her chest, and grins. "Believe me, Drew. My sister doesn't need help, she's quite the badass at pool. How about, I will be on your team and she breaks?"

Drew nods and racks up the balls, placing the white ball in the position for me to break. Another thing I learned from my dad was how to be a badass pool player. Whenever he wasn't working, our usual hangout times consisted of either pool or shooting ranges. Grinning, I take my cue stick and lean down, striking the white ball in a brisk motion. The variation of multi-colored balls scatters across the velvety green table, starting the game with three balls already in the holes. A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, after which I glance over at Tarra and wink.

He has no idea what he's up against.

Ten minutes later, Drew lifts one brow and raises his hand to rub the back of his neck as I sink in the black eight ball, winning the game. "Damn, I've never seen a girl play like that."

There was a sense of familiarity and comfort with Drew. It was as if we have been friends for some time and things felt easy. I found myself enjoying my time with him and laughing at the small talk that we exchanged. My flirting game definitely needed a little work, but he went along with it, being the cutie that he is.

A giggle leaves my mouth as I place the cue stick back in the holder. I turn around and grin, putting my hand out with my palm up. "That will cost you one hundred bucks. You know, for schooling you," I said flirtatiously.

He chortles and shakes his head, closing my palm. Warm tingles spread up my wrist as he asks, "Will you settle for maybe, my number and dinner?"

My heart is thumping faster in my chest, but I tilt my head to the side and pucker my lips, making him think that I'm contemplating his offer. "I guess that'll do." I smile and, as he returns the gesture, his cheeks slightly blush.

"We better get going, Sis. I have work tomorrow," Tarra alludes behind us, but by the look in her eyes, she's happy for me. The huge grin she has is evident enough.

I nod when Drew scans the room, exhaling as if he's frustrated. His eyes drag back to mine and he notices, "Say, it looks like my friend ditched me. Mind if I hitch a ride with you ladies?"

"Sure, it's not like it's out of our way or anything," I say, giggling. "What about your friend though?"

Drew shrugs and waves off the subject. "Nah, he does this all the time. He usually finds someone here and takes them home."

I make a disgusted face.

Poor Drew, he seems so sweet, and yet, he has a douche for a friend.

I grab my keys from Tarra's purse and we walk out of Jax's Bar, towards my truck.

"Are you okay to drive?" Drew asks me.

"Me?" I say. "Oh yeah, I only had two beers and drank like three water bottles. My sister, however..."

We both look at Tarra, climbing into the back of the truck and laying on her belly in the backseat. "Had one too many."

We both chuckle as we drive back to the apartment complex, sharing a couple of not so subtle, silent glances at one another. By the glint in his eyes, I know he feels the connection that sparks between us too.