Read Chapter 1 of College Jock’s Secret Baby…

99�� UNTIL WEDNESDAY, NOV 17TH AT MIDNIGHT! Chapter OneCalvin

I filled in the last answer on the old-school test the professor preferred to use and gave my other answers a quick once over. I knew I had done well. This business class was one of my favorites and the answers came easily. It was the one class I had that I actually enjoyed. And now it was over. It was the end of my junior year and I was still technically undecided. I knew what I wanted to do, but that didn���t jive with what everyone else thought I should do.��

I was glad to be done with school for a few months. At school, I had to be a different guy than the man I really was. At least, the man that I wanted to be. I handed in the test, said my goodbyes and left class. The hall was bustling with other students who felt the excitement of the end of another year. I headed towards the exit only to be waylaid by one of my other professors.��

���Mr. Whatley,��� the old man said.��

���Hi, Professor Green,��� I said politely.��

���Another good year on the books,��� he said. ���I���m looking forward to seeing what you���re going to do for the team next year. We were so close to the championships this year. Are you looking forward to next year?���

I flashed my million-dollar smile. ���I am, sir. I plan on working hard this summer. I���ve got a new trainer and I am going to give it my all. This fall, I plan on taking us all the way.���

���That���s what we all want to hear!��� he said with a lot more enthusiasm than I felt. ���We���ll be rooting for you.���

���Thank you, sir. Have a good summer.���

I walked out and made it into the quad, which was flooded with bright sunshine. My fellow students were all milling about laughing and talking. It was always like this. The last few weeks it was hard to find a smile on the faces of those cramming for finals. Everyone was stressed and wondering if they���d done enough. Finals week was no joke. When it was over, the relief could be felt for miles.��

���Whatley!��� I heard my last name shouted. I rarely heard my first name these days. I had become Whatley, the star quarterback. That was my identity. The rest of me didn���t matter. No one but a handful of people were remotely curious about the guy attached to the arm that threw some of the longest passes in the world of college football.��

I turned and saw Scott jogging towards me. ���I thought you had a final at ten?��� I asked him.��

���I did,��� he grinned. ���I���m done.���

I rolled my eyes. ���Someone did it for you.���

���No, technically, I did it,��� he said.��

I shook my head. ���You���re going to get caught one of these days.���

���Not today, and I didn���t do anything wrong,��� he said with a shrug. ���The teacher wanted to make damn sure the star running back made the grade. A little help goes a long way. Besides, it���s not a core class. No one is going to talk to me in Italian. It was an easy class and it keeps my GPA above a dismal two point.���

I shook my head and started walking again. ���You���re going to regret not paying attention down the road,��� I warned him.��

���What are you talking about?��� he asked, laughing. ���I���m going to be in the NFL for eight years, make a good fifty mil, and then retire.���

���I thought you were majoring in communications so you could go on and work at ESPN or something?���

���I am, but they aren���t going to give a shit if I speak fluent Italian.���

���You need a Plan B,��� I said.��

���That���s what this face is for,��� he retorted. ���I���ll just start modeling.���

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. I was anxious to get off campus. I had a house off campus, courtesy of my parents��� wealth. ���I���m going to get my bachelor���s in business,��� I said.��

���Why?��� he asked. ���It���s a given you���re going to be drafted with one of the best teams. You���re going to get one of those contracts that everyone is talking about for months.���

���Just in case,��� I said with a laugh. ���I���m not taking any chances.���

He slapped me on the shoulder. ���Let���s go get our drink on. We have to celebrate. This is our second to the last day of school.���

���The usual place?��� I asked.��

���Hell yeah,��� he said.��

The campus was in a small town dominated by students at the university. There were plenty of bars and restaurants that catered to the younger population. While the bulk of the town���s population was comprised of temporary residents going to school, there was a core group of residents that had been around forever. They were the team���s biggest supporters and made sure we all knew it.��

We strolled down the sidewalk with all the cocky confidence in the world. People honked as they drove by. We waved back and kept going. The bar was already starting to fill up despite the early hour. It was the last final of the year for a lot of people and that meant it was time to party. It felt a lot like the dude from that old show about a bar when we walked in. Everyone knew our names. Our last names, at least.��

A pretty waitress wearing cutoff jean shorts and a tiny shirt that stretched across her very voluptuous chest promptly delivered two beers. ���Courtesy of the Breakfast Club,��� she said with a smile.��

���Thanks, Cara,��� I said. I held up my beer to the group of seventy-something dudes who were old, retired farmers. ���Thanks guys.���

���Thank you,��� Scott said. ���You guys rock.���

The Breakfast Club earned their name by being the first group in the bar at opening every damn day. They were our most loyal fans. They cheered us on, gave us pep talks after a loss, and bought us drinks in the off season.��

���What are your plans for the summer?��� Scott asked me. ���Did you make up your mind about that football camp?���

���Man, I don���t want to go,��� I told him. ���I just want to enjoy the summer.���

���But your dad,��� he said.��

I sipped from my glass. ���But my dad.���

���He wants you to be successful,��� he said in an attempt to make my father���s overbearing and controlling nature okay. ���He���s hoping you���ll be in the first-round draft pick.���

I took another long drink from the glass. ���What about you?��� I asked in an attempt to change the subject.��

���I plan on drinking a lot and getting laid just as much,��� he grinned.��

���You���re staying in town then?���

���I���m going to Mexico with my sister for a couple of weeks, but other than that, I���ll be right here living it up,��� he said. ���Where else am I going to get free drinks and food?���

Someone walked by our table and patted him on the shoulder. ���Looking forward to next year, guys,��� the man said.��

���Champions,��� Scott said and held up his glass.��

Before we got to the bottom of our first drinks, another round was delivered. ���Mr. Stackhouse,��� the waitress said.

���Where is he?��� I asked.��

���He just left.��� She laughed. ���He wanted me to tell you guys he already bought season tickets for next year and he doesn���t want to be disappointed. He also wanted me to mention his furniture store just became gold tier sponsors.���

���Shit,��� Scott said. ���The furniture business must be hopping.���

���Do you guys want something to eat?��� Cara asked. ���I have a feeling these are the first of many drinks coming your way and you good smalltown boys know you can���t turn down a drink bought for you. It just isn���t polite. But I don���t want to see you get smashed, and I will not tolerate puking.���

���Burgers,��� I said knowing that���s what Scott would want. ���We���ll pay. Don���t tell anyone we���re ordering food, or they will try and pay.���

She grinned and winked. ���It must be such a hard life you live,��� she teased.��

���It���s pretty tough being treated like a celebrity,��� I laughed.��

���I hate it,��� Scott added.��

���Let���s play darts,��� I suggested after Cara walked away. ���It���s never free and I want to get a turn in before it really gets crowded in here.���

He rose up from the table. We both left our drinks, knowing they were perfectly safe. I walked towards the back of the bar and was plowed into by another guy not watching where he was going. ���Woah, dude, sorry,��� I said and put my hand on his arm to steady him.��

���What the fuck, man?��� he growled and pushed me back.��

It wasn���t the reaction I expected. He ran into me. I was the wounded party here. ���Whatever,��� I said, and tried to walk away. I didn���t fight in bars. It was a rule I had to keep. I couldn���t risk injuring my hand or arm. My career would be over.��

���Don���t whatever me, you cocky little prick,��� he snapped.��

I raised an eyebrow. I was about six inches taller than the guy. I���d never been called little anything. I stood at six-five and had since I was about sixteen. Before I could say anything, Scott stepped up. ���Back off, dude. You���re wasted. You ran into him.���

���Oh, you have to have your boyfriend fight your battles?��� the dude scoffed.��

���Why don���t you go sleep it off?��� I said and sidestepped him. I felt him move behind me and just knew I was about to get clobbered. The sound was followed by an OOMPH.

I turned to see two of the old guys from the Breakfast Club pushing him away from me. ���We���ve got this, Whatley,��� one of them said.��

���Shit,��� Scott laughed. ���I didn���t know old guys could move that fast.���

���Thanks guys,��� I called out, and continued on my way to the dart board.��

Scott chuckled as we walked. ���It���s like having your own security team.���

���They sure as hell have saved my ass more than once.���

���That guy was a drunk asshole,��� Scott said.��

���Always has to be one,��� I muttered.��

It was nice having someone watching my back all the time. If it wasn���t the people in town, it was my teammates. They all wanted me to protect my throwing arm. There were plenty of assholes who didn���t like me because I was successful. Some were from rival teams, others just hated me in general because of my privilege. I did feel a little guilty at times, but I couldn���t change what I was born into and who I was.��

���Food���s on the table, guys,��� Cara called out.��

���Thanks, babe,��� Scott replied.��

���She isn���t going to touch you,��� I told him. ���Not again.���

���She had a good time with me.�����

���And then you hooked up with another girl while you were supposed to be with her,��� I reminded him.��

���That was a misunderstanding.��� He grinned. ���She thought we were in a monogamous relationship. I did not. She���s cool with it now.���

���It���s dangerous ground to fuck over the woman serving you food and drinks,��� I warned.��

���She loves me,��� he insisted. ���We���ve come to an understanding.���

I groaned and shook my head. ���Booty call?���

���An occasional getting together,��� he corrected. ���You need one of those.���

���No thanks,��� I said. ���I prefer to keep things on the lighter side. I don���t need anyone accusing me of cheating on them. I don���t need the drama. I have to focus on the next season.���

���All work and no play makes Calvin a very dull boy.���

I took a bite of my burger and sipped my beer. ���Calvin gets what Calvin needs without strings.���

���You mean without phone numbers,��� he laughed.��

���Same thing,��� I said with a shrug and took another bite.��

After enough beer to get a good buzz, I left the bar with a very pretty blonde. It was going to be a great summer.��