Lessons in Sin by Pam Godwin

CHAPTER 20

TINSLEY

My afternoon plans were decided when Daisy ran into me in the hall.

“You’re going to football practice with me.” She gripped my arm and dragged me toward the elderly priest waiting outside.

I let it happen because I had nothing better to do. Besides, it would be nice to step outside the campus walls.

Father Isaac smiled and waved when he saw us.

I gave him a chin lift and turned to Daisy. “I didn’t realize they made helmets big enough for your fat head.”

Of course, I knew she was going to watch football practice, not participate in it.

“You’re lucky you’re my best friend.” She slung a bag over her shoulder and followed the priest to the gate.

“Oh?” I walked along beside her. “So now I’m worthy of your friendship?”

“I guess.” She lifted a noncommittal shoulder.

“Is this you feeling sorry for me because of what Alice did last night?”

“No. This is me feeling sorry for you because you have no friends.” Her tone was so cold I wanted to punch her.

Then she laughed, her eyes dancing playfully, and I couldn’t help but laugh with her.

When we reached the football field, we found a quiet spot in the bleachers. She didn’t waste any time pulling out notebooks and camera equipment.

“Yearbook,” she said when she caught me staring.

I knew she was on the yearbook committee, and now it made sense that she wanted to come to a practice. Since Sion Academy didn’t have a football team, St. John de Brebeuf represented both of our schools.

As she set off to interview coaches and players, I was content to watch the boys run through their drills. There were plenty of studs on the team. Cute ones. Beefy ones. A lot of them stared and winked at me from across the field. But my interest in their kind had changed over the past six weeks.

Maybe I should call my mother and tell her that her decision to send me to an all-girls Catholic school had cured my curiosity with boys. I was no longer interested in giving blow jobs to college guys who worked at Burger King. Now I only wanted to spread my legs for men twice my age who bit and spanked and wore clerical collars.

No, I couldn’t tell her that. Not unless I wanted her murderous Irish henchman, Ronan, to show up. I bet Magnus could hold his own in a fistfight. But against an assassin aiming a gun? I didn’t want to find out.

I wished I could go back to hating the volatile priest. Then I wouldn’t care about this shit. But now it worried me. If my family found out that he’d touched me? That he’d buried his nose between my legs and smelled me? I couldn’t think about what would happen to him without making myself sick.

Trapping my tongue between my molars, I bit down and used the pain to distract me from my thoughts.

On the field, the St. John’s players waved and showboated, trying to get my attention. Father Isaac lingered off to the side, talking to Father Crisanto while keeping his old eyes on Daisy and me.

After practice, Daisy chased down a few of the key players for interviews. It wasn’t long before the star quarterback plopped down beside me, reeking of sweat and cut grass.

“Hey, Tinsley.” Tucker flashed me a smile, though it looked a little tight at the corners. “You look beautiful as always.”

“Thanks.” No smile from me.

He was an all-American boy—a playboy if the rumors were true—accustomed to getting who and what he wanted. If he wanted me, he would have to work for it.

Blond hair, brown eyes, with an explosion of muscles along his six-foot-three frame, he was conventionally handsome. Six weeks ago, I would’ve thrown myself at him.

Now I was struggling to do anything but yawn.

“Are you hanging out with Droopy Daisy now?” He slung an arm across my back.

I shoved it off. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? That’s her name. I mean, look at her face.” He shuddered dramatically. “I wonder if that’s the result of having been repeatedly dropped on her head when she was a baby. She seems to have some level of mental retardation for the same reason.”

“What the fuck?” I jerked away from him, appalled. “I don’t know whose rectum you crawled out of, but you should’ve been flushed. Ugh. You’re disgusting. Huge turnoff.”

I stood to leave.

“Tinsley, wait.” He touched my wrist, his eyes imploring. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was your friend.”

“Does it matter?” I dropped to the bench and shoved my face in his. “She’s a person, and you’re suffering from delusions of adequacy. Also, I prefer a battle of wits, which you appear to be unarmed for, so fuck off.”

“Jesus.” His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. “You’re fucking hot when you’re worked up.”

My vision turned red. “I’m done.”

When I stood this time, he was ready. His hand caught my arm, holding me to the bench.

“Let go,” I growled.

“Hear me out. Please?”

I glanced over at Father Isaac, who pushed up his glasses, his eyes squinting in my direction. He couldn’t see Tucker’s hand on my bicep.

“You have five seconds,” I said through my teeth and yanked my arm free.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m a jerk. I shouldn’t have said that about her. If I took the time to get to know her, I’m sure I’d find out just how great she is.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“The Winter Formal is in four weeks. You want me to dance with you? Prove to me you’re not a disgusting human.”

“I’m not—”

“Daisy will be the judge of that. You have four weeks to convince her. If she doesn’t think you’re a total dirtbag by the time the Winter Formal rolls around, I’ll dance with you.”

He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his head. “How am I supposed to do that? She despises me.”

For good reason.

She’d finished her interviews and was heading our way.

“Here she comes.” I scooted away from him. “Compliment her when she gets here.”

“What am I supposed to say?” His eyes bugged.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I lowered my voice. “It better be good, Tucker. And honest.”

Daisy climbed up the steps and crouched to pack up her bag, ignoring both of us.

“Hey, Daisy.” He scuffed his shoe against the concrete. “I like your hair today, especially the way it curls around your, uh…neck.”

Her eyebrows pulled in, and her hand went to the brown waves, sweeping them forward, toward her chin. She never pulled her hair back. Not on purpose. I saw beneath the strands once, when the wind caught them. She didn’t have ears. Not much of them, anyway. They were more like little puckers of skin low along her underdeveloped jawline. I imagined she was self-conscious about it, even though she would never admit it.

When her gaze cut to me, I quirked up a brow and shrugged.

Her eyes turned to slits. She lifted her bag and paced off. “Eat a dick, Tucker.”

A smile struggled on my face as he huffed, looking all offended. But he didn’t say a word in return.

That was a start. Maybe he was trainable after all.

“You have four weeks.” I patted his head and left him sitting there with his mouth hanging open.