Schooling The Quarterback: an m/m college sports romance (GSU), page 1
SCHOOLING THE QUARTERBACK
GSU
BOOK 1
LAURA JOHN
This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, event or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Laura John
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Independently published.
Cover Designer: Brittany Franks with Chaotic Creatives
Editor: Swish Design and Editing
Sensitivity Reader: J.P Jackson
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Also by Laura John
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To Pat.
You might not read romance, but you sure know a lot about football.
Thanks for making sure I don’t ruin this book.
CHAPTER ONE
GABRIEL
What is the big deal about sports?
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for twenty-two years. Actually, I probably wasn’t forming coherent thoughts like that as an infant, but I’m sure by the time I was three, I was already confused by people’s obsession. So, I’ve been going over it for at least eighteen years and still don’t understand.
Green Spring University lives and breathes sports, all sports, so it’s not even a seasonal thing, which sucks. If it wasn’t for the fact that they have one of the best law schools in the country, I wouldn’t be attending. GSU is also in the same city as my nana, an added bonus I love.
Staying close to Nana has been more of a blessing than I thought. I knew starting university at sixteen would be a challenge, but I wasn’t prepared for how lonely it would be. If I was across the country from the only person in my family who has always loved me unconditionally, I don’t know what I’d do.
I’m not the most social person in the world, but having at least one friend is nice. I didn’t have anyone when I started here. My two best friends weren’t as gifted as I was and couldn’t accelerate their learning. Graduating two years early isn’t an easy feat. I felt like a baby when we said goodbye because I cried so much. The only reason I let the tears fall was because my father wasn’t around. My friends were always my safe space, and I was a sixteen-year-old about to go off on my own for the first time. Of course, I was nervous and upset and needed a minute to let my feelings out. If my father had seen me, he would have screamed at me for behavior like that. In his eyes, men don’t cry.
That way of thinking is, of course, what’s wrong with our society. Anyone can cry and feel their feelings. It’s healthier than keeping it all bottled up. But I was a good child and kept my feelings inside around my family like I was taught.
When I arrived in Green Spring, my nana welcomed me with open arms. She was kind and warm like I always remembered her growing up, making me wish I could have visited her more as a child. My parents never showed me love like she did. At first, I thought it was because parents and grandparents show love differently, but I quickly found out it was because my parents were just plain old assholes.
I came out to Nana about six months after moving here, and she told me she loved me no matter what. I knew my parents wouldn’t react well, but with the safety of distance and with Nana’s love and support, I decided to come out to them as well. My mother cried, my father yelled, and they told me I wasn’t welcome in their house anymore. I haven’t spoken to them since. Nana, of course, tore my parents a new one and told them if I was no longer welcome, neither was she and cut off all contact with them.
With Nana’s constant positivity, I never gave up hope of finding new friends, and even though it took a few years, I eventually found a group of people I clicked with who also didn’t understand everyone’s obsession with sports. Most of us are athletically challenged, except for Sasha, who is a geek but also a dancer. Thankfully, he isn’t a geeky jock. There’s no way we’d get along as well as we do if he was, or maybe I’m being judgmental.
Sports people are all the same.
The only thing they seem to care about is… sports.
I’m currently studying in the main area of the campus center, which isn’t my usual preference, but I’m waiting on my new tutoring student, and this is where he wanted to meet.
Three young women dressed in Kelly green and black with white sneakers and tiny koala temporary tattoos on their cheeks giggle as they pass by my table. The women are talking about the soccer game tonight, and I can’t help but shake my head. I just don’t understand it. Nothing about any sport thrills me, even after extensive research and trying to see the appeal.
“Are you Gabe?” a man asks in a deep voice.
I put on my professional smile and look up from my textbook. I was not expecting my newest tutoring student to be a drop-dead gorgeous giant, but he is. The man standing in front of me has to be at least six foot four with thick brown, chin-length hair, broad shoulders, and forest-green eyes. How on earth is it possible for such a handsome man to exist?
I’m an extremely intelligent person, but this man’s perfect body has me second-guessing if magic is real. Maybe a spell was put on him when he was a baby to bless him with such good looks.
Giving my head a shake, I stand and reach my hand out toward the man. “I’m Gabriel,” I reply, emphasizing my full name, as I hate it when people shorten it. “Are you Chase?”
His face lights up, and he nods. Holy cow, he even has a perfect smile—all straight teeth and pearly white too. How was he gifted with such beauty?
“That’s me, but I also go by Ando if you want to use that instead,” he offers.
I blink at him a few times. Why would I call him Ando if his name is Chase?
“Chase is fine by me…” I assure him after an awkward pause. “In your email, you said you were struggling with your business law and ethics course?” I ask, wanting to confirm.
His perfect smile drops, making my stomach churn a little, which I’m not used to. Am I getting sick? That doesn’t feel right. I think my stomach is hurting because of the loss of Chase’s smile. I don’t like him looking upset. I want to bring his happy demeanor back, which again is weird because I don’t know this guy.
Why should I care so much that he’s bummed about his grades? I’ve had other tutoring students look just as upset, if not more, and I didn’t have this kind of gut reaction, wanting to bring their smiles back.
Chase answers my question before I can dwell too much on these odd feelings. “Yeah, the legal jargon just isn’t clicking. I can’t flunk this course and risk bringing my GPA down. I have to keep it up, or I won’t be able to play. This is my last year, and I want to bring home the championship win. I won’t be able to do that if I’m benched for flunking my classes,” he tells me, his dark brows pulling together and causing worry lines on his forehead.
An unusual desire to smooth them out courses through my veins. What the hell is wrong with me?
“We’re over halfway through this semester, and it’s still not clicking. I need help. My grades are on the fence right now.”
I push away the new feelings again because now is not the time to dissect them. I can do that when I’m alone. Right now, this student needs my help. This man has my brain a jumbled mess. Never before have I had such a problem focusing on the task at hand.
I became a tutor because I hate seeing anyone struggle with their grades. And as much as I don’t get sports, I understand how important they are to those who love them.
“I’ll do my best to help you,” I assure him, meaning the words more than ever. “I’ve got a pretty decent track record with other students I have helped.”
His smile returns at my words, lighting up his entire face and easing the knot sitting rock solid in the bottom of my stomach. “I’ve heard awesome reviews. That’s why I reached out. You helped a buddy of mine last year. He said he wouldn’t have passed if it wasn’t for your help.”
My cheeks heat at the praise. I’ve never been good at taking compliments.
A group of rowdy people wearing more green and black passes by us, stopping to give Chase high-fives and congratulating him on his last game. I patiently wait for them to move on while mentally planning where to move us. This location isn’t going to work for a study session.
“Would you be okay with heading to the library?” I check after the crowd moves on.
I tip my head, pack up my stuff, and start walking to the campus library. Chase follows beside me, waving and saying hi to people as we go.
How does he know so many people? I guess that’s what happens when you’re a popular jock.
“What’s your major?” Chase asks as we make our way.
“I already completed my Bachelor of Arts majoring in Sociology. I’m in my second year of law school now,” I explain, keeping my focus ahead, not turning to look at him like most people probably would. I don’t need his good looks distracting me.
Chase gasps, gaining my attention. His eyes are preposterously wide, and his steps falter momentarily. “How is that possible? You look like you’re nineteen.” He blinks at me a couple of times, probably trying to figure out what’s going on.
“I’m twenty-two,” I inform him. “I started college when I was sixteen. Finished my bachelor’s degree when I was twenty and will hopefully graduate from law school when I’m twenty-three.”
Chase’s brows shoot up even more, and he shakes his head. “So, you’re like genius-level smart?” he inquires.
I lift a shoulder, not loving the term genius. “I’m smarter than the average person my age.”
“You’re a hell of a lot smarter than I am,” Chase murmurs.
“Our difference in levels of intelligence doesn’t matter,” I assure him. “And I highly doubt that you’re dumb. You’re just stuck. It happens to more students than you could imagine.”
“Thanks, but sometimes I have a hard time believing that,” he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. For the first time since I met him, he appears self-conscious.
This isn’t the same man whose chest was puffed out as he high-fived his fellow students. This is a person who has a serious amount of doubt.
I’ve seen people like this before, but I’ve never wanted so badly to solve all their problems for them as I do with Chase. I want to be the person who helps him get rid of his insecurities. To show him he’s capable of anything.
Helping with his studies shouldn’t be hard for me, but dealing with these new emotions might.
CHAPTER TWO
CHASE
Who would have thought that my new tutor was a genius? Mattias did not tell me that when he recommended Gabe. He also didn’t mention how cute he is.
Gabe is a lot shorter than most of the guys I hang out with. If I had to take a guess, I’d say he’s only five foot ten, but his height suits him. He’s slim with a head full of thick, curly, dirty blond hair and plush, naturally pink lips. However, the focal point of his face isn’t his kissable lips. It’s his giant glasses. He’s got that nerd-chic look down pat, and I find it extremely attractive, which is new for me. The guys I normally hook up with are jocks.
Another thing that really threw me off when I met him was the lack of recognition when he looked at me. Being the star quarterback for the GSU Koalas means most people at least know my face, but Gabe was completely unphased, something I’m not used to.
“So, you’ve been at GSU for six years now?” I check as we approach the library.
When we arrive, I hold the door open for Gabe. He gives me a weird look before going inside. Is it not normal for people to hold doors open for others? My mom raised me with manners and would slap me upside the head if I didn’t use them.
“Yes,” he replies, making his way into the library. I follow behind, easily keeping up with him. One of the perks of having long legs.
“And you don’t know who I am?” I question when we arrive at a table.
“You’re Chase Anderson,” he replies with my full name, which I included in my email earlier this week.
“Yeah, but do you know who I am?” I try again as we both sit down.
Gabe blows out a breath and moves his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“If you’re trying to hint at who you are in the sports world, no, I don’t know who you are,” he tells me. “I don’t watch sports.” I gasp, which makes the hot nerd roll his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, Chase, but not everyone’s world revolves around sports. Some people have better things to do with their time.”
I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. I knew there were people out there who didn’t like sports, but I’ve never met one before. It’s like I’m sitting next to an alien right now.
“Have you ever been to a game?” I inquire.
Gabe sighs. “Yes, I have, and I’ve watched a lot of different sports on TV. I spent most of my childhood being forced to watch them, and it never clicked with me.”
My mind is being blown right now. I understand being confused by sports until you’ve been to a live game, but normally, that changes things for people. You feed off the crowd’s energy, and there is nothing like it. At least nothing I’ve ever experienced.
“But that’s enough talk about sports,” Gabe insists in a business-like voice. “We are here to help you pass this class. Now, let’s see what you’re struggling with the most. Did you bring your recent papers and tests like I requested?”
I smack my forehead and shake my head. I knew I was forgetting something, but the day has been kind of crazy. It completely slipped my mind. “Sorry,” I reply, keeping my head down.
Gabe blows out his breath. When I look back at him, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose again, and his plush lips are slightly pursed. Why do I find that kind of hot?
What would it feel like to have those lips wrapped around my cock?
Internally, I give myself a shake to stop thinking about my tutor sexually. I reach into my backpack to pull out my textbook, hoping that will be enough for now. “I’m struggling with everything,” I tell him, handing him the book. “I know it’s important to learn about legal stuff when it comes to businesses, but every time I read about terms, I instantly forget them. Everything is going in one ear and out the other.”
Gabe hums in understanding while flipping through the pages. “You need a way to connect with the legal terms,” he states, keeping his eyes on the pages as he talks. “What kinds of things are you into?”
“Sports,” I reply with a charming smile, not that Gabe sees it since his nose is still in the book.
He sighs but tips his chin. “Give me a couple of days to devise a plan.” He closes the book and finally meets my gaze again as he hands it back to me. His soulful chestnut eyes are mesmerizing, making me forget that we’re talking about my educational future for a second. “I’ll also print off a few old exams so that we can assess your knowledge.”
I nod, pulling my attention back to this moment. His idea feels like it’s as good of a plan as any. I don’t have a clue how he’ll have me connecting with the information, though. We’re over two months into this semester, and each day, I feel dumber and dumber.
“You’re going to have to put in an extreme amount of effort to get your grade up,” Gabe tells me with a serious look on his cute face. “Are you willing to give up any partying you’re currently doing and put in the work?”
“Anything to save my ass,” I assure him. I don’t bother adding I’m already a dedicated student and rarely party.
He hums his acceptance of my answer. “Email me your current schedule and any known changes from now to the end of the semester. When we meet next, I’ll have an updated schedule for you, including specific study times. I’ll meet with you at least twice a week to start. We can up that to more if necessary.”
I pull out my phone and do as he tells me, knowing I’ll forget if I wait until I return to my apartment.
“Sent,” I tell him with my best smile, which doesn’t seem to affect him at all. He honestly looks bored, which again confuses me.
“I’ll email you once I’ve come up with your plan,” he says, standing and grabbing his backpack.
“Do you think texting would be easier?” I ask, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil from my bag. Then, writing down my number, I hand the paper to my new tutor. “I’m kind of shit for checking my email, but I’ll always respond if you text me.”
He takes the paper and nods with that emotionless look on his face. “Fine. I’ll text you in a few days.” With those words, he leaves, and I’m left in a weird state.
