Big Man on Campus: an Enemies to Lovers College Romance (Big Men on Campus Book 1)

by Stephanie Queen

  “Quite a coincidence isn’t it?”

  I usually use the computer at the library to be careful, but with Joni staying with me, I got sloppy. For the one last job I needed to finish, that I was working on even tonight, I’ve been using my computer and the internet connection at BMOC house to send the file, taking the risk, promising her this was the last paper and that I’d get a part-time job next semester. Even though Mom is working steadily now, it’s only part-time and she still needs some help, especially with the loan payments.

  “So this is how I see it, either it’s you or your girlfriend—because you know the feds are sharing their files with the locals at some point and they’ll identify your computer. Now I know it’s not Joni, I know it’s you, but I can’t prove it. So I won’t break the story. For now.” He stops and stares at me. I stare past him at the woods, the pine trees.

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re going to let your girlfriend take the blame when this goes down.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Voland laughs. “You know state law enforcement is going to the president of the university with this, right?” He pauses. “Say something, kid.”

  “What do you want?”

  “An exclusive story. When it’s all over.”

  I nod. He starts the car. “I’ll take you home.”

  Home? Where is that?

  As we drive back to the house, he says, “I want to talk to Joni.”

  I don’t care what he wants. “No.”

  “I want to make sure she knows what’s going on.”

  “Why? I’ll tell her.” I don’t tell him she already knows about the term papers because I don’t want a whiff of guilt to touch her.

  On my phone, I look up the statute on academic fraud in New Hampshire and find out it’s a Class A Misdemeanor. Not a felony. Not a big deal—for an anonymous student. For me, finalist for the Heisman Trophy, a very big deal. Not even counting the possibility of expulsion with only one more semester until graduation, I could lose everything. I could end up exactly where I started. White trash with a lousy job living in a small shack in a nowhere town.

  He pulls up to the curb. “I want to come in and talk to her.”

  “It’s an odd request, Voland. The answer is still no. You can’t come in.”

  “How about you call her to come out here?”

  “No.”

  He shrugs and takes out his phone and hits some numbers. I wait with one hand on the door handle to see if he’s bluffing. He’s holding her hostage. To make sure I come through with my story?

  “Hello, Joni? This is Voland, sports reporter for AP. Yeah. Jack is here with me. We’re parked outside.”

  I reach for his phone to grab it away, but he anticipates this and pulls away, pushing his door open, and jumps out. “Yeah. Come on down okay? We want to talk to you. Let you know what’s going on.”

  I want to beat the shit out of him right now. I get out of the car. He runs, but doesn’t get far. I back him up against his car, holding him by his jacket.

  “What the fuck is your game, Voland? You leave Joni out of this. I mean it.”

  “I’m trying to protect her, you idiot. You’re the one playing games here, writing term papers and selling them online to make money when you could be doing a hundred other things. How could you throw it all the way? Squander everything you—” I’m done listening to him parroting my conscience. Bringing my right arm back, I’m about to punch him when Joni screams, running into me, holding me, stopping me and saving this piece of shit excuse for a journalist.

  “Jack, no. He’s not worth it. You’ll get yourself in trouble.”

  I let go of him and he straightens up, his eyes wide and unsure.

  “You’re stronger than you look,” he says to me. “And you look pretty fucking strong. I was afraid all that money my parents spent on braces was all for nothing for a minute there.” He smooths down his jacket, his hands shaking.

  I take small satisfaction in scaring the shit out of him, like any bully would. I’m breathing heavy, sucking in the cold early December air, circling an arm around Joni, needing her warmth. Needing everything I can get from her.

  “Thanks for coming down,” he says to her. “For saving my life.” He gives a shaky laugh. She doesn’t say anything.

  “Jack’s in trouble and I wanted to make sure you knew about it.”

  “Fuck.”

  She turns pale as he lays it out for her.

  “Contrary to what your boyfriend thinks, I’m not out to get him. Think about it. I didn’t have to tell you everything I know, let you know what the feds are up to.”

  “Then why did you?” she asks like she means it.

  “Because I wanted to give you a chance to do the right thing, Jack. I want to see you redeem yourself. You made a mistake. Own it. Get past it. Your life will be better for it. Don’t lie, don’t keep secrets. It’s bad for the soul.”

  “Thanks for the advice. Now get the fuck out of here.”

  “We still have the deal for the exclusive, right?”

  I give him the finger as I haul Joni close and turn to go.

  “Take this.” He slips her a business card and she takes it. I don’t bother stopping him. We run back into the house and up the back stairs.

  When we get back to my room, I face her. Her eyes glitter with tears.

  “I’m going to call him,” she says.

  “What the fuck for?”

  “I’m going to get his FBI contact and confess.” I smile at her, the kind unselfishness of her intention lifting me way past where I deserve to be.

  “No you’re not. The feds don’t care. Academic fraud is a misdemeanor.” Her face is puzzled as she works out the implications.

  “I don’t care who I need to confess to, as long as you don’t get in trouble for this, Jack. You have too much to lose, everything you’ve worked for. And it’s not your fault you’re poor, or that you work so hard at football you don’t have enough hours in the day to earn enough money at a regular job. What do these people expect from you?”

  “You’re sexy when you’re irate,” I say. More touched than turned on that she’s outraged on my behalf. It’s a new high, something I’ve never experienced before. More than I deserve.

  “The way I see it, St. Paul’s will be where you’ll get prosecuted. So that’s where I’ll confess. I’m not going to wait until law enforcement blow the whistle.”

  “Joni, don’t be crazy—”

  “I’m not crazy, Jack.” Her voice is soft and her face is dead serious.

  “You can’t confess. You’re not guilty, you don’t know a thing about selling term papers. They’ll never believe you.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m not letting you do this, Joni.” Fear trickles across my back now.

  “The thing is, Jack. There’s no way you can stop me. This isn’t like Lake Winnipesaukee. I’m not a little kid and the stakes are too high. I won’t let you lose everything you have.”

  “What about you?” Alarm speeds up my heart.

  She shrugs. “I’m nobody. What can they do to me? Expel me? I got what I came to St. Paul’s for—my class with Soullier. I wrote my novel. I’ll get my A.”

  “A+.”

  She laughs. “And I’ll publish my book. I don’t need a degree to do that. I don’t need to earn money when it comes down to it. I already have money. I’ve been given much—handed a lot of things on a silver platter in life, exactly like you always thought. Now I’m going to prove that I deserve it by doing this thing for you.”

  I hold her in my arms, overwhelmed with emotion, crazy feelings like I’ve never felt before, so far beyond grateful and humble that I can’t identify how I feel. I only know that I don’t deserve her. That I can’t let her do this, no matter how much she thinks she needs to.

  She backs away from me and pulls her largest bag from the closet.

  “I’m going back to my dorm.” I nod.

  “It’s bes
t if I have some separation from you. I don’t want them to think I’m confessing for you. I’ll tell them we broke up—that you broke up with me because you found out about the term paper business.”

  “They’ll never believe you. You don’t need the money.” I don’t say that she’s not an A student, but that doesn’t matter.

  “You know it’s not always about the money. I do it for kicks. To get away with it. To cheat the system.” She finishes packing and kisses me. I hold her and sap all the goodness from her that I can get.

  “Don’t go, Joni. Please don’t do this. I’ll think of something. I’ll handle this. It’s my problem. I got myself into this.”

  She pulls away and looks at me, tears glitter in her eyes. She shakes her head.

  “No, Jack. It’s not you. It’s all my fault,” she says.

  I never heard anything so absurd in my life and I want to cry because she believes it.

  She leaves and there’s nothing I can say to stop her. So I let her go.

  Practice is hell the next day. But it doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am. Even if I were standing at the podium accepting the Heisman Trophy, I’d still be in hell.

  The knowledge is real and certain as if I’ve been to the future and seen it for myself. I hope it’s not too late to do something about it, the one thing I can do, before Joni gets herself into trouble.

  Coach doesn’t care how cold it is, but practice ends early because he has media obligations. I’m spared the responsibility because I’m cut off until the award ceremony to maintain the suspense. That’s the theory. I don’t care as we trot back to the field house, the sweat freezing on my face. Tristan catches up to me.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you today? You couldn’t throw for shit.”

  “Long story,” I say, having no intentions of sharing it, but when we get inside he drags me to the sauna.

  “We’re still in cleats, what the fuck?” He pushes me inside the wood-paneled room and closes the door. I see a couple of guys outside giving us looks, but who the hell cares?

  “This has something to do with Voland’s visit doesn’t it? He’s the reason Joni left. What the hell is going on with you? Why did you let her go?”

  “I didn’t. She has a mind of her own.” Holding back the truth right now is like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke trying to stop a leak. I have too many cracks. I’m falling apart and the way Tristan looks at me right now, sweat dripping, raw concern on his face, he knows it too.

  “You’re right. You want to know the story? Sit down. But I promise you won’t want to be my friend after you hear it.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me.”

  So I do.

  “You can’t let Joni take the blame for you.”

  “No shit.” I know what I need to do.

  “You’re going to confess. To Reverend Church?”

  I nod. “I’ll make the call and set it up as soon as I can get cleaned up and out of here.”

  I call the office to set up the appointment to see Church for the next day, but I find out that Joni just walked out, and she’s confessed to writing the term papers. The secretary tells me she’s facing expulsion.

  “They’re going to let her know tomorrow. I’m sorry, Jack.”

  Tomorrow is the Heisman Trophy ceremony and the day Joni gets expelled from SPU, a week before finals, a week before Joni gets an A+ in her writing class and a B in calculus.

  Unless I act fast.

  “Are Church and Lassiter still there?”

  “Barely. We’re all about to leave.”

  “I’m begging you to do me this favor. I’ll owe you whatever you want—my firstborn, tickets to games, you name it.”

  “What is it?” She sounds reluctant.

  “Tell Church and Lassiter to stay, that I’m on my way there now. I have something important to talk to them about. Trust me, it’s important.”

  “Okay. I can’t make any guarantees—”

  “Call me to let me know if they agree. I’m coming in now.”

  I end the call, throw on my jacket, and run for the door. Tristan follows on my heels and catches up with me outside.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m going in to talk to them now.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Suit yourself, but I don’t need you.”

  “Fuck you, Jack. You got me anyway. You never know when you might need a real friend.”

  I stop before I get to my truck. “Sorry. I’m a fuckup as a friend like everything else.”

  “Can’t prove it by me.” He slaps my back and gets in the passenger seat.

  My phone buzzes and I pull it out. It’s the secretary.

  “Are they waiting for me?”

  “Yes. I’ll be here too. Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Jack?” She knows. I’m surprised and touched by her obvious concern.

  “Never more sure,” I say.

  Taking my computer with me in case they need proof, in case Joni’s confession causes any confusion or casts any doubt, I walk inside the empty building with Tristan.

  We walk past the secretary and I nod to her. Church and Lassiter are standing inside the door to Church’s office. The plaque on it says President. I’ve always thought it pretentious.

  “Come in Jack. Tristan.” Church nods. “What’s this all about? It sounded serious.”

  Lassiter says, “I told you it was him that—”

  “Never mind, Lassiter.”

  “First let me say that Tristan is here only for moral support. He has nothing to do with anything I’m about to confess to you about.”

  Lassiter smiles, self-righteous satisfaction pouring from him. It bounces off me. I’m laser focused on making sure Joni doesn’t pay for my sins.

  “I know Joni Dowd came in here to confess to you that she wrote and sold term papers to students, but I’m here to tell you she was lying.”

  Church makes no comment and I ignore Lassiter’s barely held-in glee as I outline every detail of the business I conducted for the last four years, down to the amount of money I made. Way more than I deserved and only half of what I could have been making. Tristan blanches when he hears the dollar amount.

  When I’m finished, silence intrudes like a thief, taking the energy from the room. I wait, part of me reconciled and strong. But the other part of me has trouble orienting to my new reality. The whiplash of emotions drains me, so I sit still, breathing slow like I’m about to fall asleep.

  “This is very disturbing news, Jack. And very serious.”

  “It’s a clear violation of academic rules,” Dean Lassiter says. I don’t bother looking at him or acknowledging him.

  “I understand you come from a disadvantaged background, that you’ve struggled all your life for money, and I’m very impressed that you’ve chosen to confess. So in spite of the seriousness, these things need to be taken into consideration.

  “I’m going to take it upon myself to make the executive decision that you be allowed to continue as a student and to play football. You will not be expelled. You will be assessed no consequences so long as you never engage in these activities again.”

  “Reverend, I must disagree—”

  “Think about it, Lassiter. Jack will undoubtedly receive the Heisman Trophy tomorrow. This honor will bring prestige and enhance the reputation of St. Paul University. On the other hand, if we expel him for his transgression that he’s confessed to and is clearly sorry for, we will all suffer. It will be a black mark on the university. Do you propose to punish the entire football team and student body for the understandable misdeeds of a struggling young man?”

  Lassiter remains silent. I’m shocked at Church’s frankness in front of me and Tristan.

  “I apologize for my candid talk, boys, but this is the eleventh hour and a swift decision is called for. No nonsense or prevaricating.” He pauses and takes a last look at Lassiter.

  “You are dismissed, Jack. Be ready for the flight t
o New York City tomorrow afternoon for the award ceremony. I’ll take care of the rest. Nothing you’ve said to me today will leave this room.”

  “Will Joni’s name be cleared?”

  “Most certainly.” He smiles. “We didn’t believe her confession. It was a transparent attempt to cover for you. You’re a very lucky young man.” He stands.

  Tristan and I leave, practically running from the building.

  When we get back, I’m not hungry. Pacing my room, I call Joni and tell her what I did and what Reverend Church decided. She’s appalled and proud and happy that Church let me off, that he understands and took into account the circumstances.

  “Then why do I still feel guilty?”

  “You must be Irish,” she says. My laugh is feeble. I stop and look out my window.

  “A hundred percent guilty.”

  “How about if I come over and celebrate?” she says. My automatic answer is hell yes, but I don’t say the words. What comes out of my mouth instead shocks me more than her.

  “I don’t feel like celebrating. I feel like a bigger fraud than ever. Like I’m taking the trophy under false pretenses.” Because I am.

  “You haven’t won yet,” she laughs. “But stop beating yourself up, Jack. You worked hard for that trophy, went above and beyond and gave the team everything you had for four seasons, didn’t you?”

  “Since when did you become an expert on Wildbeasts football?”

  “I’m serious, Jack. Tell me you’re all right with this or I’m coming over right now—”

  “Oh no. What a terrible threat,” I joke, but I don’t want her to come over. I’m not fit for company. I have my conscience to wrestle with yet. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m fine. I have you, don’t I?”

  “Any time you want me.” I suck in my breath and the unfairness strikes me. I should say the same to her, but I can’t.

  “Good night.” We end the call.

  I pace another circle around the room and face the mirror. I’m left to contemplate who I am and what kind of man I want to be. I have a decision to make. And I don’t want to make another bad decision.

  If I win, knowing that I’ve committed academic fraud, do I ignore my guilt, pay no price and accept the Heisman Trophy?