Tutoring the Quarterback - Sample

Chapter One

Brooks

"Come on, slowpokes. One more lap," the PE teacher yells so that most of the girls running laps around the field can hear him.

"Goddamnit," my best friend Mac grumbles, her breath ragged. "Is he trying to torture us or something?" she adds.

"I think he's trying to kill us," I reply, sticking my tongue out of my mouth like a freaking dog.

"Why did I let you convince me to attend this stupid class?" she continues complaining as we make a considerable effort to run one more lap.

"Those girls aren't complaining." I point at the group with five girls running effortlessly and looking way too good in their gym shorts and tank tops.

"Of course they aren't," Mac scoffs. "The cheerleaders are used to this kind of torture."

I keep staring at the girls who are exercising graciously while gossiping and exchanging glances with the boys on the football team—the latter is practicing in the middle of the field.

"How do they manage to look like Goddesses all the time?" Mac scowls at the girls as they run past us again.

"Come on, Mac; one more lap, and we're done." I try to encourage her and myself, as I am about to give up any minute now. What has started as a simple PE assignment has ended up turning into an impossible mission. Who would have guessed that running five laps could kill a student who has never trained before?

"I think I'm dying." Mac stops abruptly, grimaces and bends, resting her hands on her knees. "I hate you, Brooklyn. I hate you for forcing me to do this shit." She looks up, shooting me her death glare.

I can't help but laugh, even though I am with her at the dying part, as I am literally about to collapse.

"What are you two doing? One more lap, come on," the teacher barks at us, causing the girls nearby to mock and laugh.

I roll my eyes and start running again because I can't afford another D on my report card.

As Macs manages to catch up with me, she comments, "The only good thing about this torture session is the jocks. Look at the twins." She stares at the middle of the field.

My gaze follows hers and lands on the football team's quarterback talking to the receiver and two other boys whose positions I can't remember.

"Timothée and Dimitris Evans, the two most handsome boys in our school and possibly in the entire world," she sighs, sounding and looking like a fool in love.

The Evans twins aren't only the football team and Oak Hills High School stars, but they are also ridiculously attractive and wealthy. Summing up, they are walking sins.

While Timothée is the quarterback and captain, Dimitris is the receiver. They are both talented as hell—not that I understand the mechanics of the sport or I'm interested in it, but there is no way I wouldn't know about that because the twins are like the two Greek Gods in our school.

For obvious reasons, I have never talked to either them or their friends, as I am nothing but a potato, whereas they are the whole feast, which makes me entirely invisible to their crowd and maybe to the rest of the city.

"Are you ogling the twins?" Mac teases me, nudging me on the ribs.

"Pfft, as if," I scoff dismissively before bringing my gaze back to the endless track in front of me.

"Can't you admit for once that they are handsome and hot?" hisses my best friend, annoyed, as those two boys live in her dreams. Well, in hers and the rest of the girls'.