The Captain

By Taylor Deceasare

Brooklyn Holland or Brooke as everyone knew her, has wanted to be a nurse her whole life. Following in her mothers footsteps, she studies hard, reads every medical book imaginable, and gets accepted to University of South Florida, one of the best nursing schools in the country. She has it all figured out. She's going to work hard, earn her degree and get an amazing nursing job at John Hopkins Children's Hospital.

Then she is going to meet the perfect man, fall in love, have a couple perfect babies and live happily ever after.

Or so she thinks.

Asher Callaway is captain of the football team at USF and he too is majoring in nursing. His reputation proceeds him, as being a player and only doing night stands. Until he meets a certain nursing student, who for the first time tells the womanizer the one word no other women has. "No" more specifically "In your dreams" I guess The Captain doesn't always get his way after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Taylor Deceasare
• Release date: Aug 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005981389

Book preview

1

Whoever said college is supposed to be fun has never sat through a three-hour lecture where the professor literally repeats himself five times. I feel like the day has been passing by at a snail’s pace since the moment Professor Thomas started lecturing. 

I'm less than a year away from completing all my nursing clinicals and taking the NCLEX licensure exam. Most days, the very idea has me jumping up and down that I'm an arm’s-length away from achieving my dream of becoming a pediatric nurse. It’s days like today, however, that I question my judgement and sanity regarding my career choice—or whether or not sitting through this obscenely long lecture is worth it. 

Of course, it will be once I graduate, but until then I have to continue to drown in this abyss of boredom for the last ten minutes until the professor finally dismisses us. 

Sure enough, the last ten minutes drag on, and as soon as the class is dismissed, I hurry to gather up my laptop and textbook, shoving both into my backpack before taking off like a bat out of hell toward the exit. 

It’s three in the afternoon, and I'm in a dire need of an alcoholic beverage. And I know just the girl to bring along with me. 

Speed-walking off campus, I hurry as fast as my legs will carry me, but being that I'm only 5’3", that’s not very fast. Keeping my head low so as not to get stopped by anyone—because I'm really not in the mood—I'm not paying attention to my surroundings, and, before I know it, my ass is flying backwards, and my textbooks fly out of my arms to scatter all over the pavement as I run into what feels to me like a brick wall. 

Now, I know I'm klutzy, but surely my eyesight isn't so bad that I missed the big-ass brick wall in front of me. And I'm just going to assume that if that is, in fact, the case, I would be knocked out cold right now. So, deciding against my better judgement, to look up and see what I did, in fact, run into, I meet the most gorgeous green eyes, which are lit up with amusement and seem to almost sparkle in the sunlight.

Feeling the blush of embarrassment slowly creep onto my cheeks, I once again turn my attention to the ground and gather my bearings. 

Taking a deep breath, I reach out to find the books that have been thrown all across the ground and gather them up. Searching frantically for my notebook and unable to find it, my panic-mode starts to set in knowing all my lecture notes are in it and I need it to study for my upcoming exam.

A throat clears from above me, and I look up, this time not just into those green eyes, but also to take in the rest of the person that I ran into. 

I say person, but he's more like a god. 

His face is chiseled to perfection, and the t-shirt and jeans he is sporting do nothing but justice for his muscular frame. Dark jeans hang from his hips and show off his thigh muscles, and I have no doubt that if he turned around, they would give a wonderful view of his fine ass. 

Hearing a chuckle, I break eye contact only to realize he's caught me staring, and, once again, the embarrassing blush returns with a vengeance.

Choosing to look back up into those green pools, I see him gesturing to something and look down. He has my notebook and is holding it out for me to take. 

Th-thank you. I'm s-s-so sorry for running into you, I stuttered out, completely taken off-guard. 

Normally, I know how to talk to guys, but this one isn't just any guy. He is a man-made god, and the words just aren’t forming. So I don’t give him a chance to reply. I just stand up and, like someone lit a fire under my ass, take off running toward the parking lot, this time watching where I'm going. I figure, instead of making a bigger fool of myself, I should just leave the situation entirely. 

Finally reaching my car and hopping in the driver’s seat, it roars to life, and I drive back to the apartment where my roommate Janie is waiting for me.

2

Pulling up to the apartment, I make my way into the building and hit the button for the elevator to take me to the fourth floor. Standing there waiting for the ding, I contemplate the past hour and shake my head at how klutzy I am. That guy probably thinks I'm a train wreck, and I didn't even get his name. 

My thoughts about the incident are put on hold though as the ding sounds and the elevator opens to my floor. I walk down the hallway and turn the key in the lock, loud music invading my eardrums as I enter the apartment. 

Placing my things on the counter, I head toward the hallway and into my bedroom and am immediately hit in the face with an article of clothing. 

Pulling the shirt off my face, a couple more articles of clothing come flying in my direction, except this time I'm prepared to catch them. Confusion takes over as I see more clothes flying from my closet, so I walk closer to inspect.

Janie, what on earth are you doing destroying my closet? I question my best friend and roommate as she hurls more clothes off my hangers. It looks like a tornado made its way through my bedroom and never stopped.

Jesus, Brooke! You scared me half to death. I thought you were staying on campus to study. She stops what she's doing and looks up, waiting for a response.

That was the plan until I had to sit through a boring-as-hell lecture for three straight hours. Mr. Thomas really needs to find more interesting stuff to put in his lecture, otherwise I'm going to start falling asleep.

She nods in agreement, having listened to me complain about him all semester. 

So instead of studying, I figured we could go out on the town tonight—since it’s Friday and all—and get our drinking game on. I form it as a statement rather than a question, already knowing what her answer is going to be.

"Um...hell yes! Do you even have to ask?"

I giggle at her and turn back to my closet and the mess she’s created. Well, since you decided to destroy my closet and make it so that I have no clue what's what, I'm leaving you in charge of my wardrobe for tonight. I wince as I say the next part. Just please try to make me look classy and not slutty. She rolls her eye as she shoos me out the door, and I walk toward the bathroom to shower and start to get ready.

Turning the shower on, I strip out of my clothes and pull the curtain behind me as I get in. The hot water rolls off my skin, loosening every tight, strained, or stressed muscle in my body. It’s been a long week, and I couldn't be happier it’s over. 

I lather my body with soap so that I smell fresh for tonight, then use the comb hanging up to release the tangles from my hair. Once I feel refreshed, I step out and grab the towel to dry off. 

Opening the bathroom door, the steam rolls out after me in waves, enveloping the room and giving it a sort of sauna feel. I walk over to my dresser, pulling out a thong to wear tonight. I only reserve those for the weekends, since they are hella uncomfortable but sexy as hell. Pulling them on under my towel, I remove a blue lacy bra as well and clip it, shedding the towel when I'm done.

Janie places what appears to be a piece of cloth on my bed, given how tiny it is, and leaves the room. Taking the material in my fingers to inspect it, I see it’s a spaghetti-strap navy silk, body con-style dress.

Janie! I scream, needing her attention ASAP.

Yeah, Brookie?

I roll my eyes internally at the nickname she gave me when we first met Freshman year. "I thought I told you to get me something classy and not slutty? I think this piece of cloth classifies as the latter!" I scream, seeing as how she still hasn't appeared in my room yet.

"Oh, Brookie, just wear the damn dress. Maybe it'll finally get you laid tonight. You need it!"

Huffing at that statement and mumbling under my breath that I don't need to get laid at all, I inspect the piece of cloth once more before shaking my head and pulling it on. In the back of my head, I know I will regret this, but what's one night to be different? After constantly working so hard in school, I deserve to not only let loose but to feel beautiful doing it.

Once I pull the dress up and the straps over my shoulders, I take a look in the mirror, and shock fills my face. The dress is form-fitting and accentuates every curve of my body, making my hips, ass, and breasts stand out more than they normally would. It reaches about mid-thigh, and I bend over to ensure that my lady bits are not on full display. 

Thankfully, they aren't.

"Whoowee… sexy lady." Janie whistles at me from my door. 

Oh, hush. I can't believe I actually let you talk me into wearing this tonight. I highly doubt after what happened on campus this afternoon that any guy is going to find me attractive anyway. Looking away from her and back to the mirror, I wring my hands together nervously. Maybe this is a bad idea.

What happened? Janie asks curiously with a raise of her eyebrow. 

I explain the incident, including my taking off running in embarrassment, and she starts laughing. 

Janie, it's not funny. I’ll probably get looks on campus for the rest of the year for that. I'm such a klutz.

Still giggling like crazy, she waves me off with her hand and composes herself. 

Oh, girl, no one is denying your klutziness. Believe me, I've seen it first-hand.

I glare at her, but she continues.

All I'm saying is that it’s Friday night, and most, if not everyone, will be going out drinking and getting fucked up tonight. So much so that I doubt anyone will remember the incident come Monday. 

Taking that into consideration, I agree with her and decide not to let what happened ruin my chances of having a good night tonight. 

Both Janie and I finish getting ready and then grab our clutches and head out to catch an Uber. 

Reaching our destination, we both tip the driver and then step out, fixing our dresses before heading in to get our party on.

3

Considering it’s nearly nine by the time we get inside the club, most people have either started drinking or are already drunk by the time we reach the bar. The bartender comes up to us and takes our orders: a Sex on the Beach for Janie and a Cosmopolitan for me.

We take our drinks and find a spot to chill before heading to the dance floor, both of us downing our drinks fairly quickly—I want to drown out the day I’ve had as soon as I can. And after a couple more drinks, I'm finally starting to feel good about myself, and even a little excited about the dress I have on. 

Maybe Janie was right after all. I'll never tell her that out loud though. Otherwise, she'll always be putting me in outfits like this, and I'll pass on that.

Janie takes my hand and yanks me toward the dance floor. International Love by Pitbull blares through the speakers as we start dancing against each other. There are couples all around us, making out and dry-humping one another, and all I can think is, Must be nice.

But I continue dancing like crazy next to Janie, laughing along with her as we let the alcohol set in. Another song comes on, and Janie excuses herself to go to the bathroom. I continue to dance, enjoying the feeling of letting my body loose for once. 

Warm hands find their way around my waist, and I feel a hard body press against my back. Normally, I would shy away from stuff like this, but with the alcohol clouding my judgement, I can't find it in me to do anything but enjoy this feeling. His hot breath feathers my neck, and I relish in the feel of it. Winding my arms around his neck and turning around, I meet those gorgeous green eyes again and pull back a little in confusion. 

The guy dancing with me looks at me with a smirk on his face. God, he's even more gorgeous than I remember. 

Thank you. Not so bad yourself. The smirk plays on his lips as realization hits me that I just said that out loud.

"I'm so sorry again. I'm not normally that blunt, except when alcohol is involved." I shake my head and pull away from him, loving the feeling of his body pressed against mine but needing some space between us so I can think properly. 

Trust me, beautiful, I'm not complaining. He smiles at me, and dimples appear in both corners of his mouth, heating my core.

Squeezing my thighs together so I can't feel the warm sensation forming between them, I speak. Thank you for the compliment, and, once again, I'm so sorry for running into you earlier and then just taking off. It was extremely embarrassing for me.

He nods in understanding. No worries. If you wanna make it up to me though, you could start by telling me your name. I'm Asher.

Jesus H.! Even his name is fucking sexy as hell. I shake my head at him, hoping I didn't let that comment slip too. Nice to formally meet you, Asher. I'm Brooke.

Once again, that smile breaks through, making my heart speed up. 

A gorgeous name for an equally gorgeous girl.

I thank him for that, and he pulls me slightly back into him. I rewrap my arms around his neck, and his go around my waist once again.    

We dance like this for one or two more songs before the need to pee takes over my body, and I realize Janie has been gone for a while. I sadly release my hold on his neck. Thanking him for the dances, I walk away and head to the back where the bathrooms are. 

After I relieve my bladder, I wash up real fast and head back over to the bar where I see Janie nursing a cocktail. She looks up from her drink just in time to see me approach her. Jumping off the bar stool, she claps excitedly. 

What are you so happy about? 

"Are you freaking kidding me? I saw who you were dancing with earlier. Why didn't you tell me you knew Asher-freaking-Callaway?"

Confusion sets into my face.

Who? Her face becomes a look of shock, like I just told her she was adopted.

Are you for real, Brookie? You don't know who Asher Callaway is? She gapes at me as I shake my head at her.

Am I supposed to?

"Um…yes! Girl, he's the captain of USF football team. His dad is the owner of Callaway Inc., one of the biggest law firms in the country. The man is fine as hell and can pretty much get any girl in the world he wants. Her rink sloshes as she gestures a little too widely. He's known around the school not only for his talent on the field but his skills in between the sheets too. I haven't had the pleasure of seeing those skills first-hand, but I've heard things."

Of course, hearing this from her gives me a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I would be the girl to not only run over the captain of the football team but also to grind on the biggest player at our school. And not only let him flirt with m, but flirt back. Ohhh no... If he thinks I'm just going to be another girl he can get between his sheets he's got another thing coming to him. 

Asher Callaway, it was nice knowing you, but it’s not going to happen. Ever.

4

Idon't remember getting home last night. To be honest, I don't even remember making it out of the club. But as I feel the rays of sunlight hitting the bare skin of my back and feel the silk cloth of my sheets between my fingertips, I know I somehow managed to make it to my bed.

Thank god. 

Coming to grips with reality, I groan and slowly roll over, trying not to move too much at once and anger the parade of elephants pounding in my skull.

Sitting up slowly, I pull the covers off and get up, walking to my mirror. I take in my appearance and thank the heavens that I at least managed to change into a t-shirt and shorts before falling asleep last night.

Grabbing a hair tie, I pull tendrils of hair back from my cheeks and up into a messy bun on my head and walk toward the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and waffles wafting from the kitchen.

Entering, I see Janie sitting at the table, looking just as hung-over as I am, holding a cup of coffee in her hands.

Good morning, girl, I greet.

"Shhhh, Brookie. Not so loud." Janie winces and clutches her head.

I make myself a cup of coffee and a plate, giggling under my breath at how dramatic she is, then take a seat across from her at the table and dig in. 

I moan in appreciation as hot syrup hits my taste buds and devour the rest of it, downing my coffee right along with it. I don't care what anyone says—the best cure for a hangover, by far, is fresh-brewed coffee and homemade waffles. 

Peeking through her fingers at me, Janie groans and heads over to the cabinet. She takes out a bottle of Tylenol and pours four in her hand, giving me two. I swallow the pills with the help of my refilled coffee and thank her. 

We both head into the living room and plop down on the sofa, preparing ourselves for a Saturday movie marathon to get rid of our hangovers as we chow down on junk food to our hearts content. 

It isn't long before my eyes close, and I pass out on the couch, in dire need of some more