Hustle Read online

  Hustle

  Ashley Claudy

  Contents

  HUSTLE

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1: Naive

  2: Work For It

  3: Truth

  4: Tattoo

  5: Too Bad

  6: Worth It

  7: Eye Of A Hurricane

  8: Want

  9: Even Better

  10: Inside Out

  11: Regret

  12: Distraction

  13: What Was That?

  14: Scream

  15: Believe

  16: See Me

  17: Show Up

  18: Warning

  19: Don’t Worry

  20: He Knows

  21: In Between

  22: Edge Of A Storm

  23: Nothing

  24: Struggling

  25: Not Enough

  26: Okay

  27: It Doesn’t Matter

  28: This Time

  29: Trust

  30: Silenced

  31: Fighting

  32: Darkness

  33: Last

  34: Beginning

  Thank You

  Fun Stuff

  About the Author

  HUSTLE

  ASHLEY CLAUDY

  South Eastern University: Where the football players are royalty and Andrew Fayden is king.

  College was supposed to be Brook's chance to escape the rumors and the harassment that plagued her at home, but she hadn't planned on meeting Andrew Fayden.

  Now, she's finding it hard to think of anything else or anyone else. She's determined to wipe him from her mind though because he is the definition of unavailable. He's got an on and off again girlfriend always on the sidelines and a flood of girls willing to take over that position.

  And his popularity makes it hard to keep a low profile, something she needs to do if she doesn't want to be pulled back into the drama of her past.

  Despite all the warnings, she's finding it hard to resist— and he's making it hard to say no.

  Copyright© 2015 Ashley Claudy

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written consent from the author except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by R.B.A. Designs. Edited by Proofreading By The Page.

  Created with Vellum

  For the readers. Thank you!

  Softness is not weakness. It takes courage to stay delicate in a world this cruel.

  Beau Taplin

  1: Naive

  Cheers slam into me as I step into the tattoo parlor. I stop short, and Rose bumps into my back, nudging me forward into the room.

  Guys. Hot—large—guys. And lots of them. They fill the waiting room. Most are standing, some are sitting, but they're all yelling, cheering, and it's focused on us.

  I'm speechless. Not once in my life have I walked into a room to this sort of reaction. I'm not sure how to respond, but their greeting is like a wave of energy, and I lift my hands in the air with a little wiggle as I sing song, “Hey.”

  “Stop.” Rose tugs on my hand as the cheers melt into laughter. “What are you doing?”

  I drop my arms, noticing too late the man who’s entered behind us. I don't know how I missed him; he's a big dude. I only come up to his chest. His eyes are shaded under the brim of his dark snapback, but he's smiling, dimples showing in that strong jaw line.

  He's still holding the door open, since I'm still standing in the entrance making a complete fool of myself.

  “Sorry,” I squeak out between embarrassed laughter as I shuffle my feet, trying to scoot Rose and I further into the shop, unable to take my eyes off that beautiful face.

  It's clear now that the cheers had been for him, but he's ignoring his fan club at the moment, still looking down on Rose and me.

  “Honest mistake, you know? People get so excited when I show up; I thought this was for me. But, I see now, you have the same affliction,” I keep talking as Rose continues to tug on my arm, trying to pull me away, but I resist. I have no flippin' clue why because I should walk away, but an awkward tick keeps me spewing nonsense. “I should have realized, though. It's usually a much bigger deal when I walk in, people go crazy and throw money at me and—” God, shut me up now.

  “Mm-Hm” He nods at me, that twist of his lip affirming that I sound just as crazy as I think I do. He steps forward, nearly touching me, and the warmth from the night cuts off as the door closes behind him. His cologne fills my senses, and it smells great, I want to inhale him. “You get money thrown at you?” He questions low, almost a whisper, but it sounds dead sexy—even if he's teasing me.

  My face has to be beet red, my cheeks are burning, but I laugh through it. “All the time.”

  “Interesting.” He inclines his head a bit towards me before walking over to the group that originally yelled for him. They engulf him in their circle, saying things I don't hear as I replay the past few minutes in my mind, a rush of blood coursing through me.

  “Oh. My. God. Brook. How drunk are you?” Rose pulls me to the counter on the opposite side of the room. “Do you have any sort of filter at all?” her stern voice cracks as she tries to keep the laughter from it. “Do you know who that is?”

  I glance back at the group. All tall, all large, but not all fit; some are very round. “They're football players, right?”

  “Yes, they are football players.” She nods to the group. “But the one you basically told you're a hooker to is Andrew Fayden.”

  I don't know what shocks me more, her accusation or the name. I'd been hearing that name everywhere since the moment I decided to go to South Eastern. Andrew Fayden, one of the best quarterbacks in College Football. And what had I done? “I never said I was a hooker.”

  Her hazel eyes widen. “No, you just said you get money thrown at you.” She shakes her head and the tip of her tongue shows between her teeth as she laughs. “Forget about it.” Looking at the empty counter in front of us, she frowns. “Looks like we might have to put off the tattoo, though. They must be keeping the place busy tonight.”

  I sigh, a mix of relief and disappointment filling it. “Aren't there other places?” She would be the one to know, Rose has several tattoos scattered on her body.

  Her purple ponytail swishes as she shakes her head. “I wouldn't trust anyone other than Chuck to touch this skin. But looks like he's no longer my secret.” Her frown turns up as she inhales, filling her tiny chest. “It's all right, another night.” She freezes as she glances over my shoulder. “Don't turn around—”

  Of course, I turn right when her command is out.

  “I said don't turn around.” She plants her elbows on the counter and drops her head to her hands. “I can't take you anywhere.”

  “Look, I'm not looking now.” I smile and nudge her. “I didn't see anything. What were you going to say?”

  The look she shoots me is skeptical, but she raises back up and dips close. “The one with his hair pulled back in the bun is the guy I was telling you about, the one from my class.”

  “The cute guy that sits behind you or the one who picks his nose and wipes it on his papers?” I shudder at the thought.

  “Ew. It's the cute one.” She shifts her gaze behind me and flashes a flirty grin. “He's definitely looking this way. Ooh, he's standing. I think he's coming over. Quick, act natural, talk to me about something.”

  “Some good weather we've been having, huh?” I try for natural as I lean against the counter an
d look around. One of the biggest of the guys is walking our way, his hair is pulled back in a bun. I can see why Rose finds him attractive, but he's not my type. I like a little more clean cut, a lot less big—that guy is scary large.

  She shakes her head, not happy with my choice of conversation. “It's our offensive line that wins games. Today proved that, we were able to run all over UVA.”

  I nod, having no clue how to respond to that.

  “You were at the game today?” The big boy stops in front of us, sneaking a glance up and down Rose before settling on her smile.

  “I never miss a game.”

  I keep myself from laughing. We’re freshmen, and today’s game was the first of the season. But I'd only known Rose for two weeks; maybe she went to games in high school.

  “We're initiating the freshmen with a team tattoo.” He nods towards the back of the shop. “You getting ink done?”

  “We were, but…”

  “Blondie. Hey, blondie,” another player calls out, distracting me from what Rose is saying. After my earlier mishap, I don’t want to jump to the conclusion that he’s talking to me. “You.”

  “Me?” I mouth, pressing a hand to my tank top.

  “Yeah, you, blondie. Come here.”

  Rose is in full flirt mode and laughing at something with her guy, so I leave her side, walking into the group of guys with nervous steps, muscles vibrating as they watch me. I liked them better when I thought they were cheering me on.

  “You're that girl that came into my class?” He points the neck of his beer bottle at me.

  “Maybe.” Where did they get beer?

  “Yeah, you're running some sort of daycare on the weekends and want people to volunteer to work for you,” he scoffs at his summary and turns to his friends for support.

  Andrew, the one that had opened the door for us, the one they had really been cheering for, the one with that perfect jawline, sits on a chair next to him. His silent stare makes the air thin and hard to breathe, even if it's only a bored stare. The others around him are reacting, though, questioning what I'm doing.

  “It's not a daycare,” I try to explain. “It's a child development clinic, and everyone there is a volunteer, but you can get some class credit, too. Mainly though, it's to help kids with their motor skills, and it's fun.”

  “It's on Saturday mornings,” he's continues to challenge me, and I can't figure out why.

  “Yeah.” I shrug.

  “I can think of better things to do with my Saturday mornings.”

  “Maybe.” I nod, but several others are watching us now so I take the opportunity. “If you ever were free though, even just one Saturday, you should stop by. The kids would love it.”

  “Ha,” his laughter is obnoxious and loud. He turns to his teammates, speaking to them, not me. “She must not realize who she's talking to. We're not some D league team.”

  I close my eyes, calming my initial frustration. Then I focus on him and ignore the laughter around us. “What's your name?”

  Crap. His laughter stops, and I realize my mistake, he took my question as an insult. His teammates laugh louder, and that makes his frown deepen. Someone answers, “Kyle.”

  “I didn't mean it like that. I just wanted to say, it's all right. You don't have to show up, that's fine. I'll do my thing, and you do yours, Kyle. We're all good.”

  He narrows his eyes as he sips his beer, but when someone steps out of the backroom, he lifts his icy gaze and shoulders past me.

  I move out of the way enough to keep from being knocked over.

  “Don't mind him. He's an ass-hole, and you just hit his ego.”

  I turn to the new guy and shake my head. “I really didn't mean to.”

  “Don't worry about him,” Andrew’s low demand grabs my attention.

  He's relaxed back in a chair, legs spread in a V, completely sexy, and radiating dominance even in his casual stance. His hat is gone now, his green eyes bright under dark brows, and they're focused on me. “You getting a tattoo?”

  “I was going to.” I search for Rose, she wasn't talking to the bun head anymore but to an older guy with a full beard and inked skin. That must be Chuck, the tattoo artist. Looking back at Andrew, I add, “But I think the wait might be too long tonight.”

  He lifts one shoulder, his intense, steady stare never pulling away. “Only a few are getting tattoos. They should be done soon.”

  “Oh.” With the possibility back on the table, excitement and unease swirl in my stomach.

  “You're not sure.” He nods his head at the empty chair next him; the other player has disappeared. “Sit.”

  My body listens before my mind catches up.

  The corner of his mouth lifts as he looks over me, eyes taking their time on my bare legs clad in cut off shorts, down to my flip-flops. My skin tingles where his gaze lingers, he's magic.

  “It's only a small tattoo. A star. On my stomach, here.” I swipe my hand low across the side of my stomach. “Rose and I are both getting one.”

  “The friendship tattoo. That shit never works.” He pulls a flask from his pants pockets.

  “Well, it's only a star.”

  “But it's not. You're getting it with your friend. That's almost as bad as getting your boyfriend's name on you.” He touches the silver bottle to his lips, large hand covering the engraving on the outside, and then he pulls it back down. “Want some?”

  “Um.” I look around for inspiration. “I don't think we're allowed to drink in here.”

  His laugh is as low as his voice, but huskier. “We can.” But he screws the cap back on. “Still going to get that tattoo?”

  Rose is back to talking to the guy with his hair in a bun. Chuck took another player to the back room.

  “I don't know.”

  “Don't do it. Not if you're not sure.”

  “I'm sure I want it” I sit up tall, trying to show confidence. “I'm not sure if we'll get it tonight, it's already getting late.”

  “It's not that late.” His smile doesn't lessen the power in his gaze, if anything that smile holds an even darker promise. It makes me jumpy, and my heart speeds up, rushing blood to my nerves.

  I shake my head, looking away.

  “How long have you been friends with her?”

  “She's my roommate in the dorms. So about two weeks.”

  “Shit.” He unscrews the lid of his flask. “Yeah, don't get that done.”

  “Why?” I turn in the chair to face him, not liking the judgment in his tone. “So what if our friendship doesn't work. It’s not about that. It’s about who we are right now, how we feel now, and this tattoo will be a memory of that. You know, celebrating today. YOLO.”

  “YOLO?” He shakes his head, but people approaching take his attention.

  And damn, I already want to get it back. There's something in those green eyes that excites me and makes me feel… I don't know what, but I want to find out.

  “Hey.” Rose approaches with her longhaired friend. She flicks her eyes between Andrew and me with a small smile and then scoots onto the edge of my chair.

  “No tattoo tonight?”

  “Not tonight.” I can tell it's not a big loss to her either. These moments didn't come along very often, and I was embracing this one, so was she.

  “Who's left, TJ?” Andrew looks up to TJ AKA bun head.

  “Sean's the last one, and then we're done. What took you so long to get here?”

  Andrew takes a big swig from his flask. “Some things.”

  “Some things or someone?” TJ’s smug smile drops when Andrew narrows his eyes the tiniest bit.

  “Some things.” The pause is weighted, and I drop my eyes away as the lighter mood slips.

  “Right, well, where should we go tonight? Phi Delt and Sigma are both having something.”

  “Sigma.” He isn't looking at any of us, eyes straight ahead.

  “Sigma it is.” TJ yells loud enough for the room to hear, and they break out in cheers.
/>   “What about you ladies?” TJ smiles down at Rose, hands on her shoulders.

  We look at each other with matching nervous smiles, unsure if this was an invite.

  “You should come.” Andrew nods to me.

  Hell yes.

  “Okay.” I try and play cool.

  But he stands up and walks away. If Rose wasn't sitting right there with the largest smile plastered on her face, I might have thought I misheard him.

  * * *

  Sigma's party is one of many on Frat row, a U shaped street where every large house was owned by a fraternity or sorority. The lawn in the center of all the homes held its own party with a bonfire burning bright in the middle. A mix of music fills the hot night and different beats vibrate the ground.

  Slip and slides line Sigma's small hill of a yard, white suds splashing on the brown grass. And baby pools are filled with cans and bottles.

  Rose and I walk through all of this in the middle of the football team. People take notice, not of either of us but of the boys around us. We stick close to TJ and each other. I haven't approached Andrew since he walked away, but plenty of people are approaching him now, girls and guys.

  Our group spreads out, separating to do our own things. Rose and I go inside the house.

  “This is crazy. Can you believe our luck tonight?” She looks around the crowded room, tugging my hand as she navigates a path to the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

  I nod, mesmerized by the chaos. “Me too.”

  She grabs a red cup from the counter and smiles at me. “Bet you never been to a party like this before.”

  “No way, have you?”

  “A few.” She shrugs. “My high school knew how to party. You don't get that with homeschool. Although, we never had that.” She points to the back yard where a few ice blocks are set up, someone on one end pouring vodka down to the person waiting open mouthed at the bottom. “We've got to try it.”

  I take the cup she offers. Try new things, that’s suppose to be our goal. If not a tattoo, an ice shot will work. “Let's do it.”