From the Inside Flap
Briarcrest Academy Series
Copyright © 2014 by Ilsa Madden-Mills
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner of this book or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked statue and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
First Edition May 2014
Briarcrest Academy, Highland Park, Texas
"Two things about me: I play football--and girls." -Cuba Hudson
More specifically, I wanted the dark-haired girl dancing inside the Symthe Arts Building as I stood outside on the twenty-yard line at football practice, fixated on her when I should have been focused on the line of scrimmage. I adjusted my helmet and squinted through the afternoon Dallas sun.
Did I know her?
Movement from other players on the field pulled me back. Good thing. As defensive end, it was my job to put the screws to or sack the quarterback as soon as the ball snapped.
I was off today. Probably because I had a ton of homework waiting on me at home. Those thoughts faded when I looked back at the window and watched the girl run and then leap in the air, her body doing some kind of crazy in-the-air-leg-split-thing.
She disappeared from view, and I waited for her to come back, wanting to check out her toned muscles again. And then I randomly wondered if her tits were small.
Weren't all dancers? Yeah. But still, she looked--
"Pay attention, Hudson!" Coach Howe yelled.
I tightened my defensive stance, running my eyes across the offensive line, waiting for the play. Matt, the asshole quarterback, was pussy-footing around, still undecided if they were gonna run or pass.
I got bored.
Out of my peripheral vision, I caught a flash of pink dashing past the window. She was back. Like I was addicted to her, my eyes watched as she adjusted her ponytail and laughed up at her ballet partner--who was a dude. Crazzzy. Yeah, you'd think he'd be feminine, but he wasn't. Nope. Dude looked buff, like he could bench press a school bus.
Something about the girl had me riveted.
Bam! I took a hard hit from Tank Carson, an All District offensive guard I routinely ran circles around in practice. He might be big, but I was quick and smart, so the chance to plant me on the turf was an early Christmas present for him. That's what I get for letting some piece of ass get in my game, even if it was practice.
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