Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5 Read Free Page A

me instantly understanding that I shouldn’t ask again.
    But I know it wasn’t Joe. I know the only person who gives feck all about me is Autumn. And as I leave the police station, lagging behind Donovan and the coach on the way to his truck, I try to think of all the ways I could repay Autumn for what she’s given me and what devious things I’ll have to devise to get her to forgive me.
    If only I could go back, to that first day in her classroom when I first really met her. I’d tell myself not to be an arsehole. I’d throttle myself for every insult I ever leveled at her.
    And I’d never stop kissing her.

 
     
     
    If my mum were still alive—Jesus, the Saints and Mother Mary preserve her soul—then she would have smarted my ears had she known what I’d gotten up to. I hadn’t meant to be an arsehole, but then, that’s what you get with too much drink.
    So, there I was, standing outside that classroom door on campus, shifting on my feet, heel to heel, waiting for that wanker Tucker Morrison to call me in and apologize for attempting a drunken snog on a fit little angel the night before.
    My fecking head wouldn’t stop pounding.
    I could hear them in there, him and the girl. Mumbled words really and I wouldn’t have been the least surprised if that eegit was trying to chat her up. He thought a lot of himself, did Morrison, and it’s all undeserved. But, as captain of our squad, I reckon it was his place. Making me be there, not the chatting up the girl bit.
    I wasn’t sure what I’d say to her. Let’s be honest, I had only vague recollections of her. I knew she was ginger. I knew her arse was round. I knew that because I seem to recall watching that arse bouncing as she ran, as I ran after her. But I didn’t even know her name, though I thought Morrison said it was Amy or Audrey or some such. McShane. That was it. Last name was McShane. That one stuck.
    My fecking head, blimey.
    “Fraser,” Morrison said, his body leaning out of the doorway. I didn’t like the smug fecking grin on his face or the way he snapped his fingers like I was some panting mutt. When I only managed to stare at him, quirking up one eyebrow, he returned my hesitation with a pathetic glare. “Take your medicine, dude. She’s waiting.”
    Really, all I was keen to do was knock him around. It seemed to me no one’s done that enough to that wanker, but I was at the university to play, as my da constantly reminded me. Not to get into tussles with my entitled, subpar captain.
    I cracked my neck, set back my shoulders knowing I was likely entering a fecking lion’s den. I don’t do apologies, normally, but Morrison threatened suspension if I didn’t, and if I couldn’t play in matches then there was little point to sticking around this God-forsaken place.
    Our captain was shorter than me, but then I’m taller than most. Still, because he was, I was able to see over his head, to the gorgeous creature leaning on the desk at the front of the classroom. She was frowning and a hard line pulled along the sides of her full, pink mouth. Still looked fecking beautiful. But then she noticed me and that adorable scowl transformed to a look of outright rage.
    “What the hell do you want?” she said, standing straight.
    Jaysus. If looks could kill…
    I couldn’t help it. This girl pulled the “condescending bastard” right out of me and I felt my cheek dent with a smirk. She was prettier than I remembered with that long, ginger hair falling behind her back and those gorgeous gray eyes shining with anger. And her tits? Feck me, they were perfect.
    She looked me over, her eyes lowering over my chest, down to my arms and I wondered if she thought me ridiculous with all the artwork I’ve covered my body with. For some reason I seemed to care, but then Morrison stepped forward and her angry frown deepened. This was bloody embarrassing, and I suddenly didn’t give a shite what either one of them thought.
    Best to be done with this whole