by Amber Heart
“Come dance or something,” Logan said abruptly. “You look bored standing over here. Ellie would dance with you.”
Ellie, the blonde, looked disappointed, but willing to do whatever Logan asked.
“I’m good,” Chase said, taking both of them off the hook.
“Cowboys don’t dance?” Logan asked.
Chase snorted. “Fuck off. I’ve gotta get going soon anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a paper due tomorrow and I should probably get to sleep before the sun comes up.”
Logan let the girls go. “I’ll head out with you.”
“Aw, Logan, don’t go!” Ellie said, clinging a little more tightly to his arm.
He ruffled her hair, tugging himself free. “I’ll see you in class, sweetheart.”
He and Chase walked out into the muggy night air together, leaving the party behind them.
“Man, when does it get cold here?” Chase asked as they walked back to the dorm.
Logan laughed. “Pretty much around...never. How come you didn’t dance with anyone?”
Chase shrugged. “Just not in the mood.”
“You don’t seem like you ever are. I never see you out anywhere. Need me to introduce you to some guys instead?”
“Thanks, but no. I’m not gay, I’m just...single.”
“Crazy ex?” Logan asked. “Because I know all about that.”
“I wouldn’t say she was crazy,” Chase said, looking up at the stars. “She just didn’t want to do the long distance thing.”
Logan stopped, leaning against the low wall near the dorm. “Oh yeah? So she’s still in Montana?”
Chase nodded. “She’s a med student.”
“How long were you together?”
“Since eighth grade.”
“Holy shit! That long?”
Chase gave a shrug that he hoped looked casual. He still missed her like crazy, though the ache had lessened in his month. She wasn’t quite the first thing he thought of anymore when he woke up. It didn’t make it any easier to talk about her though.
“Yeah. We broke up last summer, when I got accepted here and decided to transfer.”
“Cold.”
“I thought so,” Chase agreed. “But she had her reasons and she had her future planned out. We didn’t fit together the way we used to.”
“Is that what she told you?” Logan asked, narrowing his eyes.
Chase half laughed. “Is it that obvious? But she was right in the end, I guess.” He couldn’t see Maria here. And he knew that here was where he belonged. It was the right coach, the right team, and the right time. He’d never felt closer to his goal of playing for the NFL. “What happened with you and Claire?” he asked in order to steer his mind away from her. He was suddenly picturing his pretty ex in too much detail. “Obviously it wasn’t distance.”
“No,” Logan agreed. “It was her lack of distance with other guys that was the main problem.”
“She cheated on you?” That actually surprised Chase. Football teams were usually a pretty tight knit crowd. News like that always got back around.
“A few times. And she lied. And she stole. And she partied all the time and she got high and then she did it all over again. One time she called me the night before midterms swearing that she was going to kill herself. I went running over and she was sitting there doing her damn nails. She laughed at me when I told her that she’d scared the hell out of me.”
Chase stared at his friend. Maria had been distant in the end, but she’d been sane at least. “Damn.”
“That time, she was just mad that I wouldn’t study with her. But she did it a few more times too, about other things. It was a hell of a ride. Cost me a couple thousand bucks and a lot of sleepless nights. When it started affecting the game I couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Damn right,” Chase agreed. “The best wide receiver in the game needs at least a passable quarterback.”
He was relieved when Logan laughed, and they talked about lighter things on their way back to the dorm. When they parted ways, Chase felt like he’d finally cemented his place on the team. He finally felt like he belonged.
Chapter 2
On Monday afternoon, Chase stared at the quiz that had just been dropped in front of him. He didn’t know which was worse, the huge zero on the paper or the words his professor had whispered as she dropped it off.
“See me after class, Mr. Franklin.”
Megan Porter was young, possibly in her thirties, but not far into them. She was petite. A full foot and a half shorter than him in fact, coming in at barely 5 feet tall. She was soft spoken and her southern accent softened her voice even more. And she terrified him completely.
Chase nodded wordlessly in response and watched as she walked back to the front of the room. He rested his head in his hand and stared at all of his wrong answers as Professor Porter began speaking. He’d known that he wasn’t doing well in trig. And even if he’d thought differently, the meeting with Coach Davis the previous Thursday would have proven him wrong...but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He’d even screwed up on the things he’d thought he’d sort of understood.
He pushed his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking this weekend? After the party on Thursday there had been an English paper due Friday night that he’d had to finish. Then the team had gotten together on Saturday and they’d all stayed out so late that he’d slept most of Sunday. And he’d spend the part that he hadn’t slept away laying around watching Netflix. Like an idiot. It wouldn’t have been much study time, and it wouldn’t have changed this zero, but he would feel less stupid.
“Mr. Franklin? If I could have your attention, please?”
Chase jerked his head up and faced the front of the room. Pissing Professor Porter off even more before their upcoming meeting probably wasn’t his best move. Although he didn’t see the point in paying attention now. He’d been listening all semester and it clearly wasn’t doing him any good. He kept his gaze to the front, but he couldn’t honestly say that he was listening. He was too busy planning to call the student center the very second he was done getting yelled at.
Once class was over, he packed up his notebook and pencils as slowly as he could while he waited for everyone else in the class to file out. He wanted the room to be completely empty before he approached his teacher’s desk. Being yelled at was one thing. Being yelled at in front of the entire class was something else.
When the last of his fellow students was out of the room, he stood and walked slowly to Professor Porter’s desk, trying to look as humble as he felt. She glanced up at him, her green eyes unamused. Maybe it wasn’t working. He got a tighter grip on his backpack strap and straightened his shoulders. Then he cleared his throat so that his voice didn’t come out as a squeak.
“You wanted to see me?” Good. At least he’d sounded like an adult.
“Yes, I did.” To his surprise, she pushed herself up from the desk and headed for the door. “Come with me.”
He followed her down the hall in confusion. Maybe it was so bad that she planned to escort him to the tutoring lab. But she didn’t walk in the direction of the student center. Instead she veered off down a hall and Chase felt his heart rate kick up when she pushed open a door and headed down to a separate building.
It sped up even more and then nearly thumped to a stop when she paused in front of Coach Davis’s door in the athletics building. What the hell was going on here? The coach opened the door before Professor Porter even raised her hand to knock. He must have been waiting for them. That wasn’t a good sign.
Chase swallowed hard and pushed his hands down into his pockets as Coach Davis ushered them in and pulled out a chair for the professor. Neither of them had spoken yet and Chase could feel that he was on the verge of saying something...anything...just to break the silence. He bit his lower lip, doing his best to check the impulse. The coach nodded to the other chair and he dropped into it quickly.
>
“Apparently we’ve had a miscommunication,” Rick Davis began without preamble. “Meg emailed me this morning to tell me that you failed a quiz.”
“I--” Chase began, but the coach only raised an eyebrow. He fell silent again. Coach Davis hated to be interrupted almost as much as he hated to be questioned.
“I said that maybe we could cut you a little slack,” he went on, his voice level and calm. “Since you probably hadn’t seen your tutor more than once and all.”
Chase felt the back of his neck heat up as the coach leaned over the desk. The man did not look pleased. Not that he could really blame him.
“And then I find out that you don’t have a tutor. Despite our conversation.” He emphasized every word, reminding Chase unpleasantly of nails being driven into a coffin.
“Now, Franklin, I really need to know just what the hell you understood from our talk after practice on Thursday, because it seems like you missed my point by a mile.”
“I meant...” Chase shifted on the chair, feeling both of their eyes on him. His palms had gotten sweaty and he wiped them down the legs of his jeans. Then he started again. “I meant to call right after I left, but...” How was he supposed to finish that sentence? But I went to a party instead? That would be suicide.
“But what?” Professor Porter asked, leaning forward and eyeing him as if she knew what he was hiding.
“I sort of ran into someone and then I got distracted. And I had an English paper due on Friday,” he hurried on, hoping that would save him. “I’ve got an A in that class.”
The professor gave him a quick smile. “I’ve spoken to your other professors,” she assured him. “Your grades are good in every class but mine, Chase.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand. “And I can appreciate how hard you’re working with all your classes and your football stuff. But none of that will be enough to save your spot on the team or your scholarship if you can’t bring your math grade up to a C.”
“I’ll call the tutoring center as soon as we’re done here,” Chase promised quickly. He’d been planning to do it anyway, after all. He didn’t need a meeting with his teacher and his coach to see that he needed a whole lot of help.
“You don’t have to do that.”
He looked at Coach Davis, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears. Was it already too late? The team had a great second string, but the other wide receiver wasn’t on his level. And they were undefeated so far this season. Surely the coach wouldn’t throw all of that away just because Chase had missed one tutoring session.
He leaned forward, his whole body tensing up. “Coach, I--”
“I made you an appointment for today.” Rick looked at his watch and then back at Chase. “It starts in about 20 minutes. If you want to keep your place on my team, you’ll get over there right now.”
“I do,” Chase said quickly. “I mean, I will. I’ll go right now, if that’s okay.”
“Have her sign this,” Professor Porter said, sliding a piece of paper over to him before he stood up. “And bring it to my class on Wednesday.”
Chase nodded and stood up. The student center that housed the tutoring labs was all the way across campus. It was a big campus and he only had about 20 minutes, which mean that he’d pretty much have to run.
“Oh,” Coach Davis said. “Make sure that you get the schedule we made for you from your tutor today.”
Chase stopped with his hand on the door. “You made a schedule already?”
Coach Davis’s eyebrow slid up once more. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Yes. He was already standing there with a paper he was going to have to get his tutor to sign as proof that he’d been there, which proved that they didn’t have much faith in him. Now his schedule was already made with absolutely no input from him? He felt much younger than nineteen suddenly. In fact, it reminded him a whole lot of elementary school. And he didn’t like it. In fact, he felt irritation rising up from the center of his chest, hot and burning and turning rapidly into anger.
It took a lot for his temper to boil over, but it seemed like humiliation combined with the need to rush out the door for an appointment he hadn’t made, to meet a tutor who had already scheduled out his life. He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest was too tight for that.
“No,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I don’t.”
“Good. Then hop to it. She’ll let us know if you’re late.”
As Chase hurried out of the building and across the grass, that last comment wore away what remained of his good nature. It wasn’t enough to micromanage everything else? Now he had to worry about being tattled on for not being punctual? He hadn’t had his schedule managed by anyone other than himself since he was in high school and he liked it that way. So he couldn’t do math. That didn’t mean that he was a complete moron.
And just because he hadn’t made the appointment right away, that didn’t mean that he was untrustworthy. He busted his ass for the team and the coach knew him pretty well. All they’d had to do was ask. It wasn’t like he would have lied.
For one thing, there would have been no point to it. There were probably records at the student center that would make it easy to trace whether or not he’d been there without having to have his tutor sign things. He couldn’t help but feel like they were trying to humiliate him.
Chase pushed his sweaty hair back and caught his breath as the student center came into view. He pulled out his phone as he walked and checked the time anxiously. He had 4 minutes left. He’d probably be a minute or two late at this pace. Would that be close enough?
He imagined his tutor eyeing the clock, poised to call his coach and get him yanked off the team for being so much as a minute late. In his mind's eye, she was smug. Probably tapping her pencil on her notebook. He hated it when people tapped their pencils or clicked their pens.
He began to jog. After all, he was known for his speed on the field. He could get there on time. Of course, on the field, he wasn’t wearing a backpack. The math binder in his backpack shifted as he picked up the pace and the corner dug into his spine with every step.
He dodged around some of the people chatting and completely blocking the sidewalk. They looked at him like he was crazy, but he ignored it. Assholes.
What the hell was the big deal about math anyway? It wasn’t like he was going to be a mathematician when he got out of college. He was going to play for the NFL. No questions asked. It was what he’d pushed for his whole life. It was why he’d left Montana to come to the pits of a humid hell. Just so he could play for a better team. Not so he could catch shit from his coach because he didn’t understand fucking trig.
Chase shoved the student center door open and looked at the clock on the wall. 3:30 on the dot. At least one thing was going right. He stepped up to the desk and waited for the receptionist to look up him. From the other guy’s unimpressed look, he knew that he looked exactly like he’d run across most of the campus. He straightened his shoulders. It wasn’t like he was there to impress the receptionist.
“I had an appointment,” he began and then realized that neither his teacher nor his coach had given him his tutor’s name. “Um, at 3:30.” Now he felt even dumber, which he definitely did not need.
The receptionist typed something briefly and then spoke without looking at him again. “Go on back to cubicle 5. She’ll be there in just a second.”
Chase slung his backpack into the corner of the small cubicle and dropped into the chair. He slouched down, stretching his legs out and leaning his head back, feeling his back and neck muscles stretch. They’d gone so tense that it actually hurt. He took several long and slow breaths, trying to regulate his heartbeat and get his temper under control. He could feel it slipping farther and farther away as his neck continued to hurt and his tutor continued to be absent.
He closed his eyes and focused on the air conditioner. It wasn’t doing a great job, but it was better than being outside. He wanted to feel superio
r for making it there before the tutor, but all he managed to feel was annoyed by the fact that she still hadn’t showed. Did she think he wanted to sit around waiting for her all damn day? That he’d wanted to run across the quad like a moron to make it to an appointment that she clearly didn’t give a shit about?
Somewhere, in the back of his mind where he could still manage to be logical, he knew that he was only making things worse for himself with the list of annoyances. But he couldn’t seem to do anything about it. He felt micromanaged, he felt like a kid again, and worst of all, he felt like a complete idiot.
His sister Sydney had managed to drag him through high school math. And he’d absolutely owned probability and statistics in freshman year, which had made him think that his troubles with math were over. And then trig had showed up and bitch slapped him.
