Real Players Never Lose by Micalea Smeltzer
Vanessa
I got backto campus later than I wanted.
I certainly didn’t expect to be breezing in on Monday, the day classes start again, but when you’re doing what you can to hold the pieces of your family together when you’re home, you do what you have to do.
Swiping my ID to get into my dorm, a loud buzzing sounds and it flashes red.
“What?” I mutter to myself.
I swipe it again and stare at my card.
“You have to be kidding me.”
I’m tired from the all-night drive and wanted to shower and catch maybe two hours of sleep before my first class.
That won’t be happening now.
Grumbling all the way to the opposite end of campus where the administration building is, I earn more than a few strange looks from my fellow students. I don’t give a shit. I’m cranky and my pits stink and I’m also hangry. It’s a lethal combination.
I storm into the building, reminding myself it’s not the secretary’s fault and I can’t take my anger out on the poor unsuspecting soul. It’s a glitch in the system more than likely, but I need my ID working so I can not only get into the dorm but grab a bite to eat.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself before entering the office, plastering a smile on my face.
“Hi,” I say in my politest tone to the secretary at the desk. “There seems to be something wrong with my ID.” I hold out the flimsy piece of plastic to her. “I tried to get into the dorm, and it wasn’t working.”
“Hmm.” She pushes bedazzled glasses up her nose. “That’s strange.”
She takes my card, turning it this way and that. She slides it through something that looks like a credit card swiper, a puzzled expression on her face.
The door opens behind me, bringing with it a hint of expensive cologne.
I don’t turn to see who the newcomer is, but I feel the presence behind me like whoever it is commands attention from the very air of the room itself.
The secretary squints at my ID and starts typing on her computer.
“Oh,” she whistles lowly, “honey.”
It’s not a good “Oh, honey.” It’s the kind of voice adults use when they’re about to deliver devastating news.
Her hesitant eyes flicker to me. I hate the pity I find on her face.
“What’s wrong?” My stomach sinks, waiting for the blow.
She clears her throat. “Sweetie, your term hasn’t been paid, so technically you’re not a student anymore.”
My blood turns cold. “What do you mean?” Panic snakes through my veins.
What does she mean it hasn’t been paid? I’m here on scholarship. Where did the money go? This is my senior year! I’m supposed to be graduating in a few months!
“It seems like your scholarship was pulled unexpectedly.”
“Wha-? How? How does that even happen?”
“It can be for a number of reasons, sweetie.” She winces, not meeting my eyes. “Unless it’s paid in full by Friday, there’s nothing we can do, and until it’s paid you won’t have access to your dorm.”
“But all of my things are in there!” I protest. “I’m a senior! I need to graduate!”
I thought fainting dramatically only happened in movies, but I start to feel light-headed, swaying on my feet. Then again, the lack of food might have something to do with it.
“Like I said—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it,” I snap, my entire world crumbling around me.
There’s no fucking way I’ll be able to get the full payment for my final semester. There’s a reason I’m a scholarship student. Aldridge caters to the kids of the rich and famous, not people like me from backwoods Georgia who grew up with nothing.
Aldridge University was my chance to escape working at the local Piggly Wiggly or gas station like the rest of my family. Heart-stopping panic squeezes my chest, tears stinging my eyes, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I’m going to have to go back, and my sister can gloat all about how she knew I’d fail.
“Just look at you, you’re not cut out for that life.”
I wanted to have a career in communications and Aldridge was the biggest stepping stone to getting there, not only for my degree, but for the connections that I’ve built over the past three and a half years.
Now it’s all being flushed away because for some insane reason my scholarship has been pulled without explanation.
“I never got a letter,” I blurt at the lady. “No one notified me my scholarship had been pulled.”
She clacks on her keyboard some more and tells me a date when the letter was mailed.
I close my eyes, thinking of the smug way my sister acted over the entire break.
She got the letter. She knew. She fucking knew and didn’t say a word. She was probably buzzing with excitement, waiting for me to have to come back so she could wave the piece of paper in my face.
Blood or not, I hate that bitch.
“I see. Thank you for your help.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, and I think she truly means it. She narrows her eyes on whoever is behind me. “Teddy McCallister, have you lost your ID again? This is the fifth time this year!”
“Aw,” the voice behind me cajoles, “Mrs. Jostin, it’s senior year, I’ve gotta set a record.”
Shaking myself free from where I’m frozen to the floor and blocking him, I turn around, and finally face the guy who’s listened to the entire woes of my predicament.
Teddy McCallister.
Campus heartthrob. Player. Life of the party.
I’ve personally never met him, only heard of him and seen him around campus. Like always, I’m taken aback by his clear jungle-green eyes. They’re bright and glittery emerald jewels. If it wasn’t unfair enough for the guy to have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, they’re also framed in the longest, thickest set of lashes. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous. The kind of handsome that’s somehow both classic and wholesome. Sharp brow, angular cheekbones, cut jaw. He’s the epitome of hot. Stubble coats his cheeks, and his brown hair is unkempt in a purposeful way. He reminds me of a young Luke Perry. Rest in peace. Thanks to my mom I had a crush on the 90s heartthrob from a young age. I’ve watched the entire show at least ten times in completion.
He’s studying me with astute eyes, but an easy-going smile. It’s a weird combination and I stare back with a narrowed expression, wishing I could read his mind.
Mrs. Jostin clears her throat. “Teddy?”
I break eye contact first, and duck my head, shuffling out the door as quickly as I can.
Away from his scrutinizing green-eyed gaze, I inhale a breath, letting reality sink onto my shoulders.
What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck. Am. I. Going. To. Do.
I’ve always been level-headed, excellent at keeping common sense in situations, being the voice of reason, but right now I feel nothing but blind panic. I waitress part-time to supplement what my scholarship doesn’t cover, but it leaves little left for me to save, so what I do have in savings is only a few thousand dollars. It’s basically pennies compared to a semester of tuition at this school, and I know there’s no way I’ll qualify for a loan.
I allow myself another full minute to freak out internally in the hallway before I force myself to leave. Outside, the cold crisp winter air slams into my face, reminding me how tired I am from my drive. Now, I don’t even have a dorm to sleep in—one where all my stuff is, except what I packed for break.
The first tear falls, then right behind it an entire torrent.
Oh, God. How embarrassing?
There’s a bench nearby and I scurry over to it, parking my ass so I can have my breakdown in relative privacy.
I dig through my purse, searching for a tissue. I find one at the bottom, but it’s got a piece of gum rolled into it. Ugh.
My coat sleeve will have to do.
Sniffling, I wipe at my face, wracking my brain for some kind of solution.
I could always become a stripper. I mean, I’m far from skinny, definitely over-weight, but all girls are beautiful, and I have decent boobs. I don’t think my stretch marks would scare the menfolk too badly.
But I can’t dance.
Like at all.
Not one iota of rhythm in my body.
I blame my dad for that fact.
So yeah, stripping is out. I might be able to bartend at a strip club, the tips would probably be way better than my waitressing job at The Burger Palace. I don’t like showing a lot of skin, it’s personally not my thing, but I am not above showing off my boobs if it gets me the money I need.
But, and here’s the kicker, it’s not like I can pay over the course of the semester.
Nope, they want it all paid in full by the end of the week.
There is no hope for me.
I’m going to be a college dropout. Although, does it count as a dropout when you’re forced into it?
The real kicker is Aldridge is rolling in the dough. They wouldn’t even miss the money if they let me slip through, but we all know they’re not going to do me any favors. Not some poor, pathetic scholar—
“Hey.”
I look up at the sound of the voice, appalled someone has caught me crying—red-faced and splotchy. I must look halfway insane.
My horror is made worse when it’s none other than Teddy McCallister.
Not only did he witness my complete and utter humiliation at being told my scholarship is poof gone, now he’s found me crying my eyes out like I did when the news dropped in the middle of class that One Direction had broken up.
That was the third worst day of my life.
This obviously being the first now and the second I try not to think about.
“Oh, God,” I mutter, embarrassed at my state. “Um.” Sniffle. “Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
“Peachy.”
He squints. “It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re lying.”
“What gave me away? Was it the tears, hysterical hiccupping, or red face?”
He grins. “All of the above.”
I sigh, picking up my bag and standing. “Look, I’m fine.”
I’m the furthest thing from my fine, but this is the last guy on campus I want witnessing my breakdown. I can cry from the comfort of my car, and I very well might be sleeping there too because I don’t want to shell out what little money I have for a hotel.
“You don’t look fine.” He’s amused. I guess to him my problems barely register on his radar. I’ve heard he comes from one of the wealthiest families in the world, not just the United States. I can’t even begin to fathom what it would be like to have that kind of money.
“I will be. Thanks for checking on me.”
I start to walk away, but his voice calls me back. “Wait, don’t go yet.”
There’s a slight desperation to his tone.
Turning back around, I give him a curious look. “Why not?”
He fidgets awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets. His nose scrunches and he finally blurts, “I think I can help you.”
“Help me?”
“With your tuition. You said you’re a senior, there’s only one semester left—”
I hold up a hand to shut him up and surprisingly he presses his lips together. “How the hell do you think you’re going to help me? It’s a lot of money even for just one semester.”
“Listen, I need a favor, a huge one. You help me, and I’ll help you.”
I look at him in disbelief. “What could you possibly need that’s worth that much money? Do you even have that amount?” I know he comes from a wealthy family, but it doesn’t mean the riches are his.
“I have enough. I don’t get my inheritance until I graduate, but I have an account from my mom. It’s got several hundred grand in it, that’s more than enough to pay your tuition.”
He says several hundred grand the way I’d say I have five bucks. Casually and unaffected.
I gulp. “I’m not blowing you for money.”
He snorts. “Didn’t ask you to, sweetheart.”
“What would you want in exchange for paying for this semester?”
I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this. Am I really this desperate?
Answer: yes, I am, in fact, this desperate.
“Look,” he starts, then shakes his head. “You should sit down.” He points to the bench. “We should sit down.” Now he’s stuttering, and it would be kind of adorable if I weren’t so emotionally strung out.
“I like standing.”
“Fine. Okay. Yeah, um.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I need a girlfriend, a fake girlfriend because I kind of lied to my dad—he’s a real prick by the way—because he didn’t believe me when I told him the truth, so the only way out of it was to convince him I have a girlfriend. Which he doesn’t believe I have. So, he’s challenged me to bring her home next weekend, so yeah, you would do me a real solid pretending to be my girlfriend. Knowing my dad, next weekend won’t be good enough. There’s no telling how long this relationship will last. It might even go as far as marriage and babies.”
I don’t think he takes a single breath in that long-winded rambling speech.
“I hope you’re kidding about the marriage and baby part.”
He pats his crotch. “I would never kid about future Teddy Juniors. Scratch that, I would never name a kid what my parents named me. Our kids can have their own names.”
“I’m not having your babies.”
He scoffs. “Why not?”
“This is insane.” I cover my face with my hands, tears long since dried. Letting my hands fall, I level him with a look, one like my mom would give me as a warning that if I didn’t stop whatever it was I was doing that I would regret it. “You, you are insane.”
“Nah, babe, I’m perfectly sane. This is a rational decision. Mutually beneficial. You need your tuition paid, and I need a fake-girlfriend.”
“That’s a lot of money for a fake-girlfriend. You’re popular. I’m sure you could find any lucky lady on campus that would do this for free.”
“I’m sure I could, but you don’t know me, and you don’t seem to want me. I mean, you’ve already scoffed at the idea of having my children, when most would be more than glad. That makes you the perfect fit, because you won’t get attached.”
I snort, a totally and completely unladylike sound. “Yeah, you definitely don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’ll go back in there right now,” he points over his shoulder at the administration building, “and pay. Say the word.”
“You’re crazy,” I gasp in disbelief.
“I promise you, I’m not. I’m completely rational.”
“No sane person pays for another’s tuition.”
He shrugs. “It’s not that much money.”
I reel at his words, and realize that to him it’s not, but I can’t wrap my head around that. I count every cent, divvying it out and deciding if I have enough extra to treat myself to a coffee or order a new pair of leggings, but he’s talking about nearly forty-thousand dollars for one semester of school like it’s nothing. I can’t relate to what it must feel like to throw money around willy-nilly.
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, his eyes following my movement.
“Say yes … I don’t actually know your name.” He scratches his brow. “That’s bad. If you’re going to be my fake-girlfriend I should know your name.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything and it’s Vanessa.”
“Vanessa,” he swirls my name around his tongue like an expensive wine he’s trying to identify the notes of, “you need me and I need you. This is a symbiotic relationship.”
“It’s no relationship.”
“Please?” He pouts his bottom lip, clasping his hands beneath his chin. Dropping his hands, his eyes are nothing but serious. “I need you.”
He doesn’t need me. He could pick any girl on campus regardless of what he said. Many of them would be glad to do it just for the social ladder bump it would give them. Me? I couldn’t care less about popularity.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to let me think about it, but what do I have to think about? All I have to do is bat my eyes and pretend to be his girlfriend. My part in this is easy, not like giving up a huge chunk of change like he’s planning on. Though he’s as casual about it as someone buying a Big Mac at McDonalds.
“Yes.”
His eyes turn to saucers, like he was expecting to have to do more convincing. “Yes?”
I nod, hoping I don’t regret this decision. “Yep. You’ve got yourself a fake-girlfriend.”
He holds his hand out to me to shake on it. His palm is rough, calloused, not at all what you’d expect from a rich kid like him. He plays baseball, so maybe that’s why.
He finishes the handshake by pulling me into a tight hug, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. He lets me go with a blinding white smile that he probably paid top dollar for.
“You’re a life saver, Van.”
“It’s Vanessa.”
He frowns. “Nah, as your fake-boyfriend I should call you by a nickname. It shows familiarity.”
“All right, Ted.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “No. I’m not a serial killer. I’m a cuddly bear. Teddy it is. Besides, Teddy is already a nickname.”
“Fair point,” I sigh, already wondering if I’ve made a horrible decision. It’s not like I gave it very much thought, but what’s a girl to do when she’s desperate and an opportunity like this arises?
“We should exchange numbers.”
“Right.” I shake my head. “Of course.”
This is hands down the weirdest encounter I’ve ever had, and I can’t think straight.
“We should meet up tonight.”
“For what?” I blurt.
He flicks his hair out of his eyes. “To get to know each other rapid fire style. I told my dad I’d started dating someone a month before break, so we’re supposed to have known each other almost two months now.”
I blow out a breath. “That makes sense.”
“I’ll call you with the deets.”
Deets? What person actually says deets?
“Sure. Okay.”
“I’ll have your tuition paid in a few hours. My class is starting soon, and I’ll have to run by my dorm to get a check.”
In a few hours my tuition will be covered, and I’ll be able to graduate this spring like I should’ve been in the first place. I’m realizing what a divine blessing it is that Teddy walked in behind me today.
“What about a contract? Don’t you want me to sign something saying I won’t bail on you?”
“I suppose I should, but I don’t want a paper trail. I feel like I can trust you, Van, and my gut is rarely wrong. Are you planning to flake out?”
“No,” I scoff.
“Then perfect. No contract needed.”
“This is insane.” I rub my hands over my face.
“So, you’ve said.” He grins. “See you tonight.”
He winks at me and then he’s jogging away, sliding behind the wheel of a blue Porsche.
What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Vanessa?
I’m in way over my head. That much is obvious.