CHAPTER SIX
Cole
I have a hard time getting to my Monday morning classes on a good day. And today isn’t a good day. It starts bad because I wasn’t able to sleep last night. I kept seeing Becca’s face, the way her feelings were naked and bare. The hurt in her beautiful eyes. I want to tell her to stay away from me, that I’m not any good for her, but that isn’t entirely true either, and I know it. I’m just not ready to be with anyone again.
I’ve spent so long building up these walls to keep people out that I’m stuck inside them alone. I know it. I might be failing my classes, but I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks. I get it, everyone has their pain, bad stuff from the past that shapes who we are. But I’ve worked really hard to get past it, and I’m not about to put myself back there because of some nice piece of ass.
Women just can’t be trusted. Hell, I couldn’t even trust my own mother. I know they say that when a relationship ends, everyone is to blame, but sometimes one party is more at fault than the other. Anyway, I don’t have time to think about all that shit. I have to get to class.
I knew the night before that once three a.m. came and went, that it would just make more sense to pull an all-nighter. I’d sleep through my alarm otherwise. So, I drink a bunch of black coffee and jog to class so that the cold, bracing morning air might wake me up a bit.
I sit through history, barely able to keep my eyes open. I try to take notes, but fifteen minutes in and my mind is wandering to more pleasant things already. I can’t keep her out of my head. I think about how sexy she looked going down on me, how good it felt to have her delicious lips wrapped around my dick.
I need to snap out of it. I can’t get a hard-on in class. Rubbing my eyes, I try to focus, but barely coast until my first class is over. I sling my backpack over my shoulder but am stopped by the professor.
“Mr. James? Can I speak to you for a moment?” She isn’t being rude. She’s a nice teacher. An older lady who smells like my grandma. Even has those little wire glasses perched on her beak like nose.
Even though she’s polite, I already feel pissed off and defensive. What is she going to do? Bitch at me? Tell me I’m a failure? I already know that. People have been telling me that my whole damn life. “Yeah, sure,” I mumble, shouldering my backpack and following her to her office.
I sit across from her in a chair that isn’t designed to be comfortable. She gives me a stiff smile that says that she doesn’t really want to have this conversation, and it makes me want to put my fist through the wall. I don’t need this shit today.
“Mr. James, I hate to tell you this, and I’m sure you already know or at least have an idea...” She trails off. Bad news never goes down well, and I wish she’d just get to the point.
I just nod. Go on, I want to scream. Fuck.
“If you don’t do something about your grades, you’re going to be put on academic suspension, which will mean you’ll be suspended from football as well.”
Of course. Just when I think things can’t get worse, they just did. And I don’t know what to do about it.
At the start of the season, I wasn’t on top of my game. My coach rode my ass at practice. At games. It felt like he blamed me for everything. But in that part of my life, I had control. I trained harder, put in more hours watching films and doing drills. It paid off. Hell, it’s still paying off.
But here… now… I don’t think there is a fix like with my athletic performance.
As I listen to just how bad my grades are, my ears start to ring. Part of me wants to run away. Just keep running and never look back. Maybe I can start over somewhere. I have some money in the bank. But I know that’s bullshit the moment I think of it. I don’t have a lot of money, and no school in the world will take me if I’m on academic suspension. Hell, the NFL will probably turn their back on me too. My school is all paid for, and I’m throwing it away. I don’t even know what to do about it.
The professor rummages in her desk, further getting on my nerves. After a lot of shuffling, she hands me a piece of paper with names and phone numbers on them. “Those are student tutors. Some of them are free, those are the ones at the bottom. Some you have to pay, but I would recommend finding a tutor that you can learn from.” Her smile is stiff and forced again. She probably thinks I should be expelled. She seems like the type.
“Thanks,” I manage to get out without sneering or flipping her desk over.
I leave the office, feeling hopelessness settle around me like chains. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. Coach will yell at me. Teammates are going to give me a hard time. And once again, everyone will remind me how useless and dumb I am. Just like my dad.
I think again of Becca. I bet she makes good grades. Her and her good girl sweater. She said something about being on the school paper. I’ve never read the school paper, but I’m sure they don’t let guys like me write for it. So, she has to be smart. Good at school.
On the way home, I think about what she wants from me. Just a story. I guess it can’t hurt. And maybe if I do her a favor, she’ll do one for me in return. That’s it. I’ll make a trade. If she will tutor me, I’ll give her an interview. Win-win for us both.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know what I’m really doing. I want to see her again. I can’t deny that. I don’t want a relationship with her, and it’s probably trouble in the making, but I’m going to do it anyway. I just can’t help myself. That’s how I am when I find something I like. I can’t leave it alone.
And I don’t want to leave Becca alone.