She’s Dating The Star Player

Study Session

It was past seven in the evening, and thankfully I was wearing a matching pale blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. I felt safe, all covered up as I headed to an unfamiliar place.

Yes, unfamiliar. Garett and I had agreed to study at his apartment. I would’ve preferred my condo, but that wasn’t an option—Elona was too noisy. We’d just end up getting distracted.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket when I felt it vibrate. A new message had come in. I opened it.

Unknown Number: Where are you?

I frowned and started typing.

Me: Where did you get my number?

Unknown Number: Do you know who I am?

I rolled my eyes. Obviously! He was the only one I was supposed to meet tonight. Maybe I should ditch him just to mess with him.

Me: I’m near campus. Where are you waiting?

Unknown Number: At the waiting shed.

I spotted a black Wrangler jeep parked right across from the shed. I quickened my pace. As soon as I stopped in front of it, the passenger door swung open.

“Get in,” Garett said, sitting behind the wheel.

Instead of getting in right away, I grabbed my alcohol and a tissue from my bag. I wiped down the seat and the backrest before finally sliding in. I put on my seatbelt and fastened it.

“Have you been waiting long?”

I glanced at Garett once I was settled in and caught him staring at me. He was still wearing his varsity shorts and a white muscle tee.

“What?” I asked with a frown.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head before starting to drive.

I looked around inside his car. Everything was black. It smelled really nice too. Not like air freshener—more like his cologne. Masculine, but not overpowering.

But I wrinkled my nose when I saw the backseat. A duffle bag was lying open on the seat, its zipper half undone. Next to it were several rolled-up large papers. On the floor, there was a pair of rubber shoes and a basketball.

I hate seeing disorganized things. I sometimes judge a person’s character based on how tidy—or messy—they are. From the looks of it, Garett seemed like your typical college boy—messy and clueless about cleaning up.

“You’re so judgmental just by looking at my stuff,” he commented. “I just didn’t get the chance to fix them ’cause I was in a hurry. I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long and risk you complaining or refusing to tutor me.”

Hmph. Excuses.

“Where’s your apartment, anyway? Isn’t dorm accommodation free for varsity players?”

That’s what Elona told me back when she dated a varsity guy. She said their tuition was also free, plus other benefits she didn’t bother to explain—and I didn’t bother to ask.

“It depends on the student,” he replied. “Some of us, including a few teammates, chose to rent an apartment so we could have the place to ourselves. That way, we can also invite people over.”

Well, that did sound better. Shannon’s dorm had a curfew, and as far as I know, most of the people staying there are varsity players too.

I nodded. “Ah… so, one of your benefits is free monthly rent? Then you’re free to choose where you want to stay, as long as it fits the school’s allotted budget?”

“Yeah, that’s about right. Our tuition is free too.”

“That’s actually a lot of benefits, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but we have to maintain certain grades.”

“Oh…” I blinked.

“We need at least a 2.50 in every subject.”

Ah, now I get why he’s so desperate to pass the retake. I felt a little guilty about what he’s getting in return for helping me. It kind of makes me look desperate, too.

“That’s tough… I mean, juggling academics, sports, and personal life…”

I don’t even have any hobbies or extracurriculars, and I’m already lucky if I get straight 2s. What more for someone like him?

“All about time management, babe,” he said smugly.

“Time management, yet you still failed your midterm.”

He frowned. “I don’t get her. I pass all the homework and activities, but she always gives me low scores. I think she’s into me. Maybe she wants me to be her student again next semester.”

I stared at him weirdly. Who even thinks like that? This guy’s brain is wired so strangely.

I didn’t respond and stayed quiet as his car turned into a subdivision and stopped in front of a two-storey modern house.

We got out together and walked into the garage. I peeked through the side window. It was dark inside, like no one was home.

Garett unlocked the door and opened it. He stepped inside first and flicked on the lights.

“Come in,” he called over his shoulder, the duffle bag slung on his back.

I stepped in and looked around. The living room was spacious, furnished with a brown couch, a center table, a large flat-screen TV, speakers, and a display shelf filled with trophies. From where I stood, I could also see the dining area and kitchen beyond the living room.

“Where are your housemates?” I asked out of curiosity.

“They’re on their way home too. I came earlier since we were supposed to meet,” he replied, glancing back at me. “Is it okay if we just review in my room upstairs?”

I stopped walking and gave him a sharp look. What? Why in his room, of all places?