Chapter Twenty-Seven Cash
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cash
For the first time in my life, I’d had to work at compartmentalizing school, football, and my personal life. Okay, mostly my personal life.
After I’d spent the night convincing Saylor she wanted to give us more than one more semester, I hadn’t seen her.
She’d had some night-into-morning final shoots and edits on her senior project.
While I understood filming could be like that, I had a bad feeling she was using school to avoid me—avoid us.
It didn’t sit well.
Especially when thoughts of her sneaked past my defenses and caused an uncharacteristic errant throw in practice.
“Hey, my dude, you got some playoff jitters?” Mick Patterson asked as he hobbled over to me on the sidelines in practice.
He’d graduated from crutches to a walking boot, which he navigated rather well considering the snow that had fallen on the sidelines since the start of today’s practice. Tomorrow was the first playoff game, and as Taco had predicted, our opponents from the southeast were in for a snowy surprise.
“Nah. A momentary loss of concentration. Trust me, I’ll have it fixed by tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t listen to your roommate. Last year the Chanticleers gave us a hell of a game.
This stuff”—he kicked at the snow with his good foot—“doesn’t intimidate them at all.
You’re going to need to show up the way you showed up against the Golden Bears.
Laser those long balls and surprise them with some new moves. ”
Funny how, in a few short months, I’d gone from mentor to mentee, but I appreciated Patty’s insights. He studied defenses as though winning football games could lead to world peace. His warnings in the conference championship game had saved my ass in more ways than one.
“After losing to us last year, I imagine they’re going to be out for blood. Plus, they know you’re not behind the controls. No doubt they’ll attack what they consider a weak point—me. You got any insights on their players?”
“Their D-line is going to double-team the hell out of Dally to get to you. Their edge rushers are wicked fast. Your head’s gonna have to be on a swivel the whole game.
I don’t think they’re going to let you have too many five-step drops, so I hope that cannon you have for an arm is on a short three-step fuse. ” Patty grinned.
I grinned back. “Count on it. Thanks for the help.”
For the rest of practice, I managed to keep my head in the game.
Afterward, I had to finish writing a final paper for my kinesiology class—something I wanted to do at Saylor’s place, but she wasn’t responding to my texts.
Instead of driving straight home after practice, I drove through the parking lot outside the Film building, but it was mostly empty.
I drove by her place, but her sweet little SUV was nowhere in the neighborhood.
As a last resort, I drove by the SCR house and came up empty again.
Where the fuck could she be?
Once I’d arrived home, I shot off another text then trudged into my house.
Dally was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled heavenly, so I wandered in to see if he’d made enough for a friend.
Fortunately, he’d pulled out the industrial-size pots to make spaghetti, and as I ate half my weight in delectable pasta, we talked playoffs, the Chanticleers, and strategy, which kept my mind on the business at hand rather than wandering off into the weeds of where in the hell my girlfriend was.
By the time, I’d finished my homework, it was well past ten. Pulling out my phone—which I’d deliberately stuffed into my backpack when I sat down to write my paper—I found a text from Saylor.
Saylor: Sorry, big guy. Didn’t mean to alarm you. We were in meetings with the dean. Turns out the faculty committee didn’t want to wait until finals week to deal with my complaints.
Me: You okay?
She answered with an eyeroll emoji.
Saylor: Since it’s the end of the semester, he gets to finish. Plus, kicking him out now would jeopardize the team whose film he’s producing this semester. They’re revisiting punishments next week.
Me: You need some company?
Saylor: Hanging out at Piper’s tonight. Don’t worry. I’ll be in my usual spot to cheer you on tomorrow.
Me: Don’t make plans for after the game.
After a long minute of floating and disappearing dots, she finally replied.
Saylor: Okay.
I didn’t know what it was about that single-word answer that gave me an ominous feeling, but I couldn’t let it go. Hitting speed dial, I called her.
“Saylor. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry if I worried you.” She sounded sad and too far away. “I’m not used to not being in control, you know.” A short, mirthless laugh huffed out of her. “Punching my ticket on the Hot Mess Express was not on my bucket list this week.”
“Babe. Seriously. Let me come get you.”
“No, Cash. You need to rest, get all charged up for the game tomorrow. The team needs you at your best.”
“I sleep better next to you. You know that.”
“Well, I’m sort of drunk at the moment, and fixing to get drunker if my friend keeps topping up my glass with her favorite drink.
” A feminine giggle followed by some jostling sounds preceded, “Hey! I barely took a drink of that!” Another giggle, this one from Saylor, then, “Sorry. Piper thinks I need to obliterate today from my memory or something.”
“What really happened with the faculty committee?”
A long sigh gusted in my ear. “Barry’s prof, the one in his dad’s pocket, made an impassioned plea for him to remain in the program under Professor Xavier’s direct supervision.
What a crock of caca. Barry runs that guy, but I couldn’t say that in the hearing.
” The slurping, sipping sound of her taking a drink told me she was maybe buying into Piper’s advice about drowning the day in alcohol.
“Anyway, up until Barnard Brown came to campus, Professor Xavier was a respected member of the faculty, so in deference to his tenure, the rest of them are taking his offer under advisement. They’ll decide by the end of the week. ”
“What about the sexual harassment and the attempt to sabotage your project?”
“If he stays, he won’t be allowed to take any classes with me and must wait until after I register to set his schedule, so I don’t have to pay for his behavior.
He’s not allowed to come within 100 feet of me while we’re on campus, and he’s not allowed to interact with any students who happen to be on any projects I’m working on,” she said as though by rote, setting my teeth on edge at the kid-gloves way the faculty was handling asshole Barry.
“What are the consequences if he breaks the rules?”
“No matter how much Professor Xavier pleads, he’s done with the program.” More sounds of her drinking did nothing for my peace of mind.
“You don’t believe they’ll kick him out.” It wasn’t a question.
“They have all the evidence and reason to kick him out now, but they’re taking his case ‘under advisement.’” She spat those last two words like poison. “What does that sound like to you?”
My girl was never bitter. Pissed off occasionally? Yeah. Never bitter. Bitterness lived right next door to defeat, and Saylor didn’t know defeat.
“I’m coming over.” I slid off my bed and hunted around for the hoodie I’d tossed before I started working on my paper.
“No, Cash, you’re not.” Despite all the conversation about drinking and the drinking sounds I’d heard as we talked, Saylor’s tone was stone-cold sober.
“You’re going to sleep well in your own damn bed and play football tomorrow like the pro you aspire to be.
Then you’re going out to dinner with your awesome parents to celebrate your win. ”
“Wait—”
“Look, in the business I want to pursue, the kind of shit I’m going through now is SOP. I need to figure out how to navigate it so I have tools when I need them later. That’s not your plateful—it’s mine. You have plenty else to worry about. Go to bed so you can wake up awesome.”
I pulled at my hair, frustrated and more than a little pissed off she didn’t think I was up to supporting her when she needed me because of a football game. “You think I’m going to sleep after this conversation?”
“You’d better. Everyone will be counting on you to play your best tomorrow afternoon.”
“Saylor.”
“Cash.”
For a long moment, we remained silent, a weird standoff I didn’t know how to navigate—until I did.
“Tell you what. You promise to meet me in the parking lot of the facility, and I’ll sleep here tonight while you spend the night with your friend.” A thought struck. “Wait a sec. Is Bax there?”
“No.”
“So two of us are doing without our ladies the night before a big game?”
“Bax understood.”
Her implication wasn’t lost on me. “Good night, babe. I’ll kiss you in the morning.”
Saylor
Eyeing me over the rim of her martini glass, Piper asked, “When are you going to admit it?”
“Admit what?” I sipped more of her favorite drink, a lemon drop martini, and wished again that it was a beer.
Reaching across the couch cushions, she squeezed the top of my thigh. “Trust me, we’ve all been there. We think we’re in control, that we’re only having a good time for now, and then the rat bastards sneak up on us, making us feel feelings.” Her smile was equal parts feral and dreamy.
Again I sipped from the too-sweet drink, desperate to hide in the oblivion of alcohol, but it wasn’t happening.
Burying myself in classes, allowing the distraction of the mess with Barry Brown, making excuses to avoid spending time with Cash—none of it was working.
No matter how hard I tried to convince myself we were not in a relationship, that we wouldn’t have to make future plans that would require compromises, that I was not in love… none of it was working.