Exception (Cambria University Series Book 1)
Copyright © 2020 Sadie T. Williams
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
"...and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires."
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Contents
Copyright
Epigraph
Preface
Chapter 1: Kiernan
August
Chapter 1: Brooks
Chapter 2: Kiernan
Chapter 2: Brooks
Chapter 3: Kiernan
September
Chapter 3: Brooks
Chapter 4: Kiernan
Chapter 4: Brooks
Chapter 5: Kiernan
Chapter 5: Brooks
Chapter 6: Kiernan
Chapter 6: Brooks
Chapter 7: Brooks
Chapter 7: Kiernan
Chapter 8: Brooks
Chapter 8: Kiernan
Chapter 9: Kiernan
Chapter 9: Brooks
Chapter 10: Kiernan
Chapter 10: Brooks
Chapter 11: Kiernan
Chapter 11: Brooks
Chapter 12: Kiernan
Chapter 12: Brooks
Chapter 13: Kiernan
Chapter 13: Brooks
Chapter 14: Kiernan
October
Chapter 14: Brooks
Chapter 15: Kiernan
Chapter 15: Brooks
Chapter 16: Kiernan
December
Chapter 16: Brooks
Chapter 17: Kiernan
Chapter 17: Brooks
Chapter 18: Kiernan
Chapter 18: Brooks
Chapter 19: Kiernan
January
Chapter 19: Brooks
Chapter 20: Kiernan
Chapter 20: Brooks
Chapter 21: Brooks
Chapter 21: Kiernan
Chapter 22: Kiernan
Chapter 22: Brooks
Chapter 23: Kiernan
March
Chapter 23: Brooks
Chapter 24: Brooks
Chapter 24: Kiernan
Chapter 24: Brooks Again
Chapter 25: Kiernan
April
Chapter 25: Brooks
Chapter 26: Kiernan
Chapter 26: Brooks
Chapter 27: Kiernan
Chapter 27: Brooks
Chapter 28: Kiernan
May
Chapter 28: Brooks
June
Epilogue
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Books By This Author
Preface
Rules:
1. Don’t fall in love
2. Don’t date
3. Don’t fuck in your own bed
4. Don’t fuck the same chick twice
5. Always use protection
Kiernan Kelly and Brooks McCarthy were both born into football royalty. And one fateful meeting will change the course of both their lives.
Everyone at Cambria University knows that Brooks, the most popular, handsome and talented guy at the school is destined for the National Football League - alone. His father, Rhett, passed on not only his DNA, work ethic and love for the game, but also a set of rules to keep his son unattainable.
Kiernan, on the other hand, tries to hide her famous lineage as she dazzles everyone with her skill on the softball field. As the daughter of Hall of Fame quarterback John Kelly, she inherited his athleticism, but not his lust for the spotlight or the public persona he works so hard to protect. She has a plan for her life that does not include falling in love. Love makes you weak. Weak like her mother. But fate has other plans for the stunning athlete.
Will Kiernan finally let someone in? Has Brooks finally met the exception to his rules? Do their families really have their best interests at heart? If their love can survive the first year at Cambria, then it can survive anything.
Chapter 1: Kiernan
August
The George and Eleanor Blake library may be one of my favorite places on the campus of Cambria University. The old stone, crawling ivy, and stained glass windows make it feel like a castle. Inside, the air feels damp and smells like old leather books. I imagine myself as a dainty damsel in distress, locked in my tower with nothing but books to occupy my time. Sitting, reading, waiting for my knight to storm in and rescue me.
But that’s not who I am. I am not a damsel. I am the starting shortstop for the Division One softball powerhouse Golden Knights. I may be smaller than the typical DI shortstop, but there isn’t much dainty about me. I am about five feet, five inches tall and 130 pounds of pure muscle. I have a small waist, thick thighs and a booty that is a little too big for my frame, but I can flat out fly around the bases. I am a triple threat from the left side of the plate. I can drag bunt, slap hit or swing away. I use my speed to reach base and I led the nation in batting average last year at .585, plus I added an NCAA-record 84 stolen bases to my resume. I was never thrown out.
Last season, we were one win away from a National Championship. Our senior pitcher cracked in the sixth inning. She just completely lost her shit. I’ve heard of players getting the yips before—hell, I had a catcher on one of my travel ball teams who couldn’t throw the ball back to the pitcher. She had to throw it to me down at second base and I would have to walk it to the mound. Crazy, I know. But, after being lights out all season long, the pitcher couldn’t throw a strike if her life – or the game – depended on it. Losing to Alabama and their smug coach, again, was the cherry on top of watching the National Championship slip through my fingers.
This season, my junior year, we’re back and more determined than ever. As team captain I’ve been kicking my teammate’s asses during offseason workouts. I’m a beast on the field, and they will be too. Off the field though, I’m pretty mild mannered. I’m like Jekyll and Hyde, really—my dad always said that he feels sorry for the guy who marries me because I’m two different people. He doesn't have to worry about that though. I have no intention of getting married. My parents set a stellar example of how not to be married when I was growing up, and as a result I made it my life goal to never be them. Plus, with my dad being one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever play the game of football, I never know if people are genuinely interested in me or if they just want to get close to my dad. Therefore, I don’t date. I’m “just one of the guys,” which I enjoy most of the time. Of course, sometimes I wish I had male companionship, but I prefer it this way.
Sports talk and no drama. That sums up my interactions with the opposite sex. The great John Kelly, aka my father, taught me to talk football, or any sport really. We hang out at parties, drink beer, and play beer pong. They don’t view me as more. I’ve never even been asked out on a real date, at least not seriously. Sure, they love to tell me how nice my ass is, but they say that to a lot of girls. They always end up taking home some hot chick in a short skirt. Not the girl wearing sweatpants. It’s frustrating sometimes, and probably the reason I’
m a virgin at the ripe old age of 20, and I’m pretty sure that won’t have changed when I hit the big 2-1 next spring. Real talk, I will probably die a virgin.
Besides all that, I’m trying to make myself focus more on my studies. I’ll need to get into grad school and then get a real job someday. The way my sophomore year ended on the field and in the classroom just left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m a pretty sharp student – I was never valedictorian status, but I earned decent grades without really having to try. My sophomore year, I slipped a little in the classroom when we were national contenders. I put all of my focus into softball. But I should be able to recover with some extra effort, which is why I’m in the library on the first day of school.
It’s one o’clock on the first Monday of classes. I already had one class at 9 a.m. and am taking some time before my next class at 2:30 to work ahead. The library is packed, considering today is the first day. I trudge up the marble stairs to the second floor. This area houses group work rooms and individual study cubicles along the walls. There are several more cubicles scattered throughout the middle of the room, like a maze. I always pick a cubicle with a window view of the Quad. When I need a break, I to people watch as students stroll to and from class.
Focus, KK. Okay, earbuds in. My go-to station has always been sports talk radio. Live or podcasts, I can’t get enough. My dad and I used to listen to sports talk radio in the car on our trips to the Hamptons during summer vacation. Jesus, I sound pretentious. Even though I shy away from my family name, I love sports. It’s in my blood. And I loved my summers with my dad before he had to report to training camp.
I turn on today’s podcast, which is a recording from my favorite morning show. Cade Olcott, Vince Wilson, and Matt “Tree” Patrick make up the Triple Play Morning Show. They’re hilarious, and their sports analysis is spot on. It’s good stuff. Cade is talking about the Golden Knights football team. They have a legitimate shot as an underdog at a title this season. We have the best starting quarterback in the league, a top-ten defense and some players who can flat out just play. Plus, Coach Kevin Hayes has taken this program from a .500 team to a top-ten contender in the last five years. He recruits his ass off, which is how he landed Brooks McCarthy, the top high school quarterback in the country three seasons ago. Tree and Vince have a bet going over whether our team can make the playoffs. Which means they would need to be ranked in the top four in the country. Tree bet against the Golden Knights. I think he will be sorry. This fall, Saturday game days are going to be fun.
I crack open my psychology book and begin to read. I’m a sports psych major, so I need to study my ass off to get into grad school in a couple years. This semester I finally get to delve deeper into my major. I’m reading ahead in bio psych because, well, biological psychology is fascinating. Dr. Everett Bigelow is one of the best professors on campus, and I’m so excited for this class. Why our brains do what they do and how it influences our behaviors. The deeper understanding of what makes us tick. The connection between mind and body. I’ve never been able to figure out what makes me tick, other than sports and competition. I’ve always felt like something was missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.
I’m concentrating on the connection between my mind and body when a hand taps me on the shoulder and breaks my focus. My mind and body clearly aren’t connected, because the touch startles me so much I scream and almost jump out of the window I’m sitting next to. Everyone stares. Then I look up and see why. Brooks McCarthy is hovering above me. Stud quarterback and lady slayer. WTF?
“Hey, gorgeous.” The words roll off his tongue and he flashes me the brightest, whitest smile I have ever seen, complete with dimples. “I get all sorts of reactions from a lot of ladies, but that one is new.” He laughs and the sound fills my ears and sends a flutter straight to my stomach. Again, WTF?
Brooks McCarthy is known on campus for three things: 1) being insanely hot 2) being an incredible lay 3) being an even more incredible football player. He is towering at six feet, four inches tall and about 220 pounds. He’s often compared to John Kelly, yes that John Kelly, and Tom Brady. I don’t know why he chose Cambria when he could have gone to any of the perennial powerhouses in college football like Louisiana State University—where his dad played—Oklahoma, or Alabama. But he decided on Cambria, likely because of Coach Hayes and the quarterbacks coach, Tyler Reynolds. When he committed it shocked the country. He was the most highly-recruited quarterback in his class, and if he declares for the draft in the spring, he will likely be drafted in the first round.
Even though my best friend Blaire is dating his best wide receiver, Tanner Bateman, I’ve never seen him up close. Bateman and Blaire spend all of their time in her bedroom. His friends don’t come over to visit. They really don’t have a reason to. I’ve glanced at Brooks during an occasional pass-by at parties, but his body is always flanked by coeds in skimpy skirts and tube tops vying for his attention. We’ve never been face to face.
Ho. Lee. Shit. He’s a specimen of manliness. He has broad shoulders, long arms, a torso that stretches perfectly into that manly V shape, and an ass that literally makes sorority sisters scream. I’ve heard them. His muscles are flexed and I can see the outline of his pecs under his white t-shirt. His flashy smile is connected to a chiseled jawline covered with just the tiniest bit of blond stubble. His eyes are so blue at the moment they look like glacial ice. He takes off his CU basketball cap and runs a hand through his tousled, dirty blond hair. The movement of his hand reconnects my brain to my mouth. No wonder every girl is ready to drop her panties for him – and most have, actually.
“Umm, are you talking to me?” I raise an eyebrow in question and look around the library. Seriously, WTF?
“Yeah, who else is gorgeous in here? I didn’t mean to scare you,” he states with a chuckle at my overreaction to his touch. There are dozens of other girls here. Many much prettier than me. None are wearing running shorts and a t-shirt. None have their hair in a messy bun either. I bet they actually brushed their hair this morning. Most are dressed up for the first day of school. Fancy outfits, perfect makeup, and impeccably styled hair. I don’t reply as I feel my cheeks flush.
“I was walking by and noticed your phone playing the Triple Play Morning Show. I love that show. Those guys are hilarious! I can’t believe Tree bet against us.” He shakes his head in disapproval.
“Yeah, I listen to it every day. Usually when I’m studying or lifting,” I respond, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice. I keep glancing around the room, as all eyes are on us. He doesn’t seem to mind, but I am anxious as hell. I don’t get nervous around guys. Ever. In fact, most of my friends are guys, due to our similar interests. But fuck, he caught me off guard with his gorgeousness and his smooth voice. I can’t believe I never noticed him like this before.
“I’m Brooks,” he offers with a smile. Duh. ”I’m in that class too.” He gestures toward my bio psych book.
“Nice to meet you, Brooks. I’m Kiernan,” I reply as I begin to pack up. I need to get out of here. I don't know what's happening to me. I’m starting to sweat and I feel my body doing something unfamiliar. I’m either reacting to his presence or from the female eyes drilling into my soul. Every girl in the study area is still staring at me, and I’m super uncomfortable being the center of attention anywhere but on the softball field.
“Heading out? Did I offend you somehow?” he asks. It seems I’ve caught him off-guard too. I’m assuming not many females walk away from Brooks McCarthy before he wants them to.
“Uh, yeah. I mean, no, you didn’t offend me, but yes I am leaving. I have class and then I have to get home and change before practice. It was nice to meet you. The show is great today, you should listen. And, you’re right. Tree is stupid to bet against you. I wouldn’t,” I say as I bolt out of the library faster than a roadrunner on crack.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, KK? I scream internally. I slow down as my feet hit the pavement outside and I enter the Quad
. The sunshine and wind are welcome on my face. Breathe. I need to get my senses back from that encounter so I don’t appear insane to other students walking around campus. Brooks McCarthy is a little bit of heaven in the flesh, and it scares the hell out of me how my body betrayed my senses. And now I’ll be seeing him in class in less than thirty minutes. Fuck. He’s just a guy. You can be friends with a guy with who looks like a Greek statue, smells like sex on a stick, and exudes manliness from every pore in his body, right? Sure, what could go wrong with that? Double fuckity, fuck.
Chapter 1: Brooks
Today is a good day. I stretch out on my bed. It is 9:30 I don’t have class until 11 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Beautiful. I stroll downstairs to eat some cereal before leaving for campus.
This year, I’m living off campus with a couple of my best friends and teammates. We’re all on the Cambria football team. Tanner Bateman, Jessup Rhodes, and Donovan Blake have been with me since freshman year in Adams House, our first dorm. We’re finally juniors and have our own space now, just a couple of miles away from campus. Blake’s dad is a big shot real estate developer in New York whose company, The Echelon Group, covers most of New England, so he bought a townhouse for us to rent for the next two years. We each have our own room. My room is the second biggest. Blake obviously got first pick. I have a king-size bed, desk, huge closet, dresser, and my own bathroom. The walls are painted a light gray, which looks great with the white trim and dark wood floors. Blake and I have bedrooms on the second floor, while Bateman’s and Rhodes’ bedrooms are on the main floor. They share a bathroom. This place is too nice for four college football players.
I’m sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar in our kitchen. Behind me is a spacious living room with a large sectional and a recliner facing a 72-inch mounted flat screen TV, where my roommates are in a heated game of Madden. The TV is flanked by several neon beer signs that Bateman’s dad gave us – he works for Budweiser—and we also have several beer posters with scantily-clad women hanging throughout the place. Cuz why not? It does smell a little like stale beer, sex, and sweat, but it’s not too bad for four college dudes.