Freak (EBOOK)

I’m spending my college holiday break tutoring the guy I’ve had a crush on since freshman year. That is until the hottest football player at our university shows up instead.

Freak needs to pass a class in order to graduate and heard I was the best. So we make the wildest holiday arrangement ever.

If he helps me land the guy of my dreams by Christmas. I’ll make sure he aces his final by the end of the semester. Every moment we spend plotting my target’s seduction is hilarious. Until I realize that I’m actually the one who’s being seduced.

Willow

WEEK ONE

I literally feel like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex In The City (the actual show and not that questionable reboot), minus the beautiful designer clothes, and the fly-as-hell Upper West Side apartment.

Okay, actually the only similarity between me and that 1990s iconic fictional television character is that I’ve literally just been splashed with dirty street water by an Uber instead of a bus (like she was) and now my only decent-looking outfit is soaking wet.

“Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

It also doesn’t help that when I enter The Links Cafe, the air conditioning is on full blast and my drenched dress clings to my skin, placing my nipples on high alert. Something told me I should have shoved a light jacket in my new Telfar tote when I was rushing out the door. I can almost hear my mother saying I told you so.

“Welcome to The Links Cafe.” A slender woman with spiky salt and pepper colored hair and a white Links Cafe apron approaches me. “Would you like a table?”

“Hi, yes, but I’m meeting someone. There should be a guy about my age, thick blonde hair, and a tall athletic build waiting for me.”

“Everyone in here is your age, honey,” she chuckles. “Sounds like your guy is a hottie, though.”

I have to laugh at myself as I look around the room. She’s right. Cooper Grove University students occupy more than half of the tables in the eatery.

“Uh, yes, I guess you could say that.”

Actually, he’s totally hot. The man of my dreams.

“No offense to my patrons already in here, but I don’t see anyone who fits the description you’re looking for, but feel free to take a look.”

“Is the air conditioning on extra high in here?” I ask, shivering in my damp dress.

“It’s Georgia, hun’. The air is always on.”

I eagerly scan the room, looking for the student I’m tutoring today. Aaron is a guy I’ve had a crush on ever since I stepped foot on the campus of Copper Grove University three years ago. Most students know and like him because he throws some of the most legendary parties at school, which is exactly why he doesn’t know who I am. Why would he? I’m a quiet, nursing student who barely has time to eat, much less party if I’m going to graduate on time.

“I don’t see him yet, so I’ll just take a table for two, please.“

“This way.”

The woman grabs a couple of menus and seats me at a small corner booth.

“My name is Regina, but you can call me Miss Gina. Everyone does. Have you eaten here before, hun’?”

“No, ma’am.”

“If you want a recommendation, I suggest the smothered pork chops today. They’re the best thing on this week’s menu. My husband is the chef, and it’s his specialty.”

“Oh, is this your restaurant?”

“It is ours,” she says proudly. “We’ve been serving soul food to Copper Grove students for over twenty years.”

“That’s a long time. No wonder it’s always packed in here. You’re like a local treasure.”

“Aww, thanks. We enjoy the community here as well.”

Near the front window, I notice a fresh miniature Christmas tree with festive red and gold decorations that remind me of displays I grew up seeing in my neighborhood. I always get a bit homesick around this time of year.

“The Christmas decorations in here are gorgeous,” I tell her.

“Aww, thank you. Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year. Can you believe that some of these decorations are from the seventies? They’re basically family heirlooms.”

“Like in the 1970s?” I ask incredulously. My mom saves nothing from last year, much less from decades ago, so I’m duly impressed. I still haven’t gotten over her donating my beloved Barbie and Bratz doll collections to a local church without my consent.

“Believe it or not, we celebrated Christmas in the 70s,” she chuckles, misunderstanding why I’m surprised. “In fact, I would argue that it was much more fun back then. My mama didn’t have to fight anyone in Walmart to make sure we had the toys we wanted.”

I have to giggle. Miss Gina is funny. I like her already.

“I can’t believe I’ve never eaten here before,” I say, smiling, wondering how I could have missed out on a place owned by a woman who’s obviously a CGU legend. I’ve noticed how everyone who walks inside the place greets her by name with a smile.

It saddens me that I’ve missed out on a lot of university traditions and fun because of my intense focus on my studies, but that’s part of why I’m here today, doing something I normally wouldn’t do. I guess in a way I’m trying to put myself out there and make up for lost time.

“Are you a freshman?” Miss Gina asks curiously.

“No, I’m a senior.”

“A senior? I would have never guessed and, based on your accent, or lack of one, I can tell you’re not from around here.”

“No, I’m from up north.”

“But you’re staying in town over the holiday break?”

Most seniors do.

“Yes, I’m here for the break.”

I’ve stayed in Georgia every holiday break and most summers because I need the time to get my work done. I’m not necessarily the smartest person in the CGU nursing program, but I’m damn sure the hardest worker. So any chance I have to get ahead on upcoming courses that I know will be challenging for me, I do.

“Wow, a senior who’s never eaten at The Links?” She smiles. “You’re in for a treat, then. I’ll send over your server once your hottie gets here.”

“Thank you.” I return her smile with one of my own.

I turn the camera app on my phone to check and see if I look how I feel, damp and gross. I try smoothing the fuzzy flyaways down of what used to be a slick ponytail when a massive human being almost gives me a baby heart attack when he slides into the booth next to me.

Not across from me.

But right next to me.

“Your hair looks great,” is the first thing he says as he takes a seat.

What the hell?

As I inspect the huge stranger sitting next to me, I have to catch my breath for a moment because I’ve seen this guy before. I just don’t remember where.

With a chiseled jaw and piercing hazel eyes, my stomach flips for a moment. But while he’s ridiculously handsome, he also seems to have some major boundary issues.

Not cool.

I immediately scoot further inside of the booth to create some more distance and try talking reason to this inappropriate mound of muscle.

“I’m sorry, but you must have me mistaken for someone else. I think you have the wrong table.”

He plasters a goofy grin across his face.

“Nah, I’m in the right seat.”

I’m not sure if this is some sort of fraternity prank or what, but it feels as if all eyes in the restaurant are on us, which only makes me that much more uncomfortable. I don’t like a lot of unwarranted attention.

“Can you at least sit over there, please?” I point to the opposite side of the table.

“Do you see me?” He gestures with his hands at the enormity of his body. “I can’t fit in one of these damn wooden chairs. I need the room of a booth seat.”

That’s fair.

He’s big as hell.

“Yeah, but do you have to sit next to me?”

“Where else am I going to sit?”

Now, I’m getting really annoyed.

“Are you playing games with me or something? We don’t know each other. I’m waiting for someone, and you’re in the way. This isn’t a free table at the cafeteria. I’m paying for this seat, so move to another table. You can’t eat with me.”

“How do you know I go to CGU?” He wiggles an eyebrow and I notice a small permanent scar above it.

It’s oddly sexy.

“What?”

“You mentioned the cafeteria.”

“I just said that because I assumed. And why aren’t you getting up yet?”

“Oh, I should have led with this when I sat down. The guy you’re waiting for is not coming today, Willow.”

My eyes widen.

“How do you know my name, creeper? And what do you mean he’s not coming?”

My stomach drops.

I called in a huge favor with my professor at the student tutoring center to be assigned to Aaron during Christmas break, so now I’m wondering why he bailed. Did Aaron find out that I arranged this? If so, I won’t be able to ever show my face again, because nothing stays secret on a small college campus like CGU. I’ll be the laughingstock of my entire dorm. Gossip spreads through those five floors like wildfire.

“There was a switch at the tutoring center, and it’s your lucky day. You’re getting me as a student instead.”

No, no, no!

It took me three years to build up the confidence to even figure out a way to meet Aaron. I mean, we’ve crossed paths a couple of times over the years, but our only verbal exchange was an awkward “excuse me” in the cafeteria line. I’m a quiet nursing student. He’s a party legend. And never the two worlds shall meet.

This can’t be happening.

“I didn’t approve a switch.”

“Professor Lee approved it. You can call him if you want to check,” the behemoth assures me with a smirk.

“I don’t have my professor’s phone number on speed dial.”

I wish I did though, because I don’t believe anything that this overgrown kid is saying right now.

“Huh, you don’t? That’s odd because I do.”

Is he being a smart ass or is he serious? I don’t read subtext all that well. It’s better when people are direct with me.

“Who are you?” I ask, slightly raising my voice, because I’m about ten seconds away from throwing these glass salt and pepper shakers on the table at this dude’s head.

“You don’t know who I am?” he replies with a dumbfounded expression, as if that’s an impossibility.

“Uh, no, should I?”

“I’m Freak,” he says in a self-important tone, as if that should explain everything.

“You mean you are a freak?” I sneer.

The colossal jerk raises a playful eyebrow as one side of his mouth curves up and an enormous tongue licks the corner of it.

“I can be that too, darlin’.”

Dive into this sweet and sexy sports romance series (all standalones) about 8 different NFL football hotties on The New York Nighthawks. You will laugh. You will swoon. You will wish you had one of your very own to play with!