Chapter 5
5
Cade
D empsey is kicking my ass.
I wait for most every other student to leave before making my way down the steps of the class. He must hear my footsteps coming because he turns. “Mr. Farmer, hey.”
He’s a young professor, not like a lot of the others on campus. All the female students whisper about how hot he is, but right now, he’s my nemesis. “Mr. Dempsey.” I wave my C paper, which totally should have been a solid B.
“That was a tough one there. I don’t think you quite grasped the material.”
The material? The material is hundreds-of-years-old literature that barely makes sense anymore. “I thought the meaning of a story was subjective to the reader. Everyone has their own interpretation.”
Professor Dempsey makes a face like he doesn’t agree. “Are you putting in a formal complaint about your grade?”
“No, no,” I say right away. The last thing I need to do is make this guy think I’m challenging him. I’ve seen professors ruin an athlete’s life. “I just want to know what you want from me to get a better grade.”
“Well, technically, I did give you a better grade. It was a C– paper.”
“No way.”
He shrugs.
I pull my shoulders back, peering down at the essay I wrote. A part of me can’t wait until I don’t have to pander to these professors on power trips. Doesn’t this guy realize there’s no way I’ll be using English literature in real life? “Tell me what you want to see in these essays for a solid B and I’ll do it.”
“I want you to fully comprehend the material, Mr. Farmer. The beauty of literature is the weaving of stories that teach us how to see the world. Do a deep dive into the material. I don’t want a Spark-Notes level of understanding, I want bone deep.” He places a fist over his heart.
I bet this guy gets hard over Shakespeare. That’s all I can think about as I nod and walk away, stuffing my C– paper into my bag.
Exiting out the door, I pull up short when a body scurries in front of me. What is up with me the last couple of days? I keep colliding with people—or nearly.
I check the time on my phone and breathe a sigh of relief. The dining hall is still open. These early morning classes are hell, but at least the cafeteria isn’t as crazy afterward.
“Who?! Farmer!”
A smile peels across my lips. Davey and I drop into our touchdown dance in the middle of the hallway. Shuffle right, shuffle left, jump, and spike. A smattering of applause from onlookers rises up, and I give Davey knuckles before turning away and running right into a petite body. “Are you kidding me?” I mutter. This is like the equivalent of premature ejaculation. I can’t even walk anymore.
She stills, black hair fanning in front of her face until she shakes it away. “Are you kidding me ? You? Again?”
I reach out and steady her with my hand on her shoulder. “Charley-not-Charlotte, hi. Are you okay?”
She makes a weird sort of groan in her throat that doesn’t sound at all like she’s happy to see me.
“What are the odds?” I’ve never seen her on campus before, and now she’s everywhere. “It’s like fate is trying to tell us something.”
“Fate is trying to tell you to pull your head out of your ass! Aren’t you supposed to be agile and quick?”
“I never see you coming,” I tell her, nearly in awe.
“Maybe it’s because you were taking up the whole hallway with that stupid dance.”
“Stupid dance? That’s my?—”
“I don’t care.”
I break into a smile. This girl tries too hard to be miserable. “You’re fun.”
Her mouth drops. She stands there, blinking, not saying a word.
“You know what I think, Charley-not-Charlotte? You secretly find me gorgeous. Are you throwing yourself in my way all the time? That’s the only explanation. You love me. I knew it.”
“Are you…mentally challenged?”
“On occasion, but I’m right about this. You can’t get enough of me.”
She steps backward, and I follow. The halls are emptying out, so she doesn’t stumble into anyone until her back hits the wall. I lean over her, my arm above her head. “Let me take you out sometime.”
She laughs. In my face. “Do those lines really work on girls? I’m in love with you? So, of course, I have to let you take me out?”
Her expression is guarded, and I have to admit, this is turning into a bit of a chore. “Come on, I’m trying really hard here.”
She stands straight up, moving me away. “No one is asking you to.”
She slips out from underneath my arm and walks away, her black-as-night hair swinging behind her.
“I’ll make you love me!” I call out.
Nothing. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t wave me away, she just keeps walking until she turns the corner.
It’s as if I’m invisible, and I don’t like it.
A hand rests on my shoulder. “Aww, and here I was, hoping to get your attention.”
I spin to see perfectly manicured fingers with light-pink polish. “Hey, Cher.”
“Cade.” She draws my name out on a happy sigh. “I’ve missed you around. Are you okay?” She loops her arm through mine.
“Busy. Dempsey is riding my ass.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m glad I don’t have him. He may be hot, but I’ve heard horror stories.”
“Great.”
She squeezes my bicep, her touch lingering. “But you’ll do great. You’ll figure it out.”
Cher and I have orbited each other since freshman year. There’s a mutual attraction, but it’s never been the right time for either of us. Not saying we haven’t hooked up, though. She’s fun and sweet. “Do you have a class to get to?”
“No, I’m actually headed to my room.”
“Do you want to make a detour to the dining hall? We can sit and catch up?”
Her cheeks blush. “Sure. I’d like that.” She keeps her arm wrapped around mine, and we walk toward the dining hall. “I thought senior year would be easier than this. I’m taking on more responsibilities at my sorority, plus there’s schoolwork, and people are feeling nostalgia for those of us who won’t be around next year…”
I should leave Charley-not-Charlotte alone. She clearly doesn’t want my attention. She’s pretty, and for some reason, I kind of like the idea that I have to work to talk to her, but there’s a point when it becomes too much. I don’t want to harass her or anything.
Plus, besides Dempsey, I have so many other things on my plate. Should I go to the NFL combine? Will I even get invited? Or drafted?
Or maybe I don’t care about playing professionally anymore?
My stomach tightens with all the lingering questions. Cher pulls me in and laughs, and I’m ashamed I have no idea what she’s been saying.
I stop, and she pauses with me. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry, I remembered I have somewhere to be.”
“Aww, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind,” I lie. “Let me walk you to your room?”
She smiles. “Sure.”
We switch directions, and I lead her toward sorority row, cutting across the quad in the brisk air. She chats next to me easily, thankfully none of it needing a response from me because I’m so torn up about the thought I just had.
Maybe I don’t care about playing professionally anymore.
I don’t know. Maybe I don’t. What if I just don’t want to admit to myself that my goals have changed? Or maybe I’m only thinking this because I’m scared I won’t get drafted.
I’m damn good at football. I’ve been a top prospect for the past two years.
But what if it’s not what I want?
Cher turns and lifts to her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, Cade.”
“Ditto.”
She walks up the stairs to the large house, and I wait to leave until she waves before going inside.
I pull out my phone, my stomach reminding me that it still hasn’t eaten. It’s too late to go to the dining hall now, but I’ll drop by the café on the way back to the athletic dorms. I scroll through my contacts and tap on Lex. He answers right away, and I let out a breath. “Hey, you got a minute?”
“Of course, brother. What’s up?”
“Life’s been hitting me hard. You know?”
“Oh, I get it. You want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Good ol’ Lex. He doesn’t badger me with questions, he launches into what he’s doing lately. He’s been through the wringer too, and it’s nice to catch up like old times.
I miss the hell out of these guys. Football truly does not feel the same without them, and I wonder if that’s a major part of the doubts I’m having around football.
Cade Farmer, regular guy?
Somehow, that doesn’t sound right either.