28. Player
PLAYER
A computer lab adjoins Miss Coles's office, which is just for athletic department use. When I enter, several guys from the team are working. I figure they're trying to jam in papers or essays to make up for classes we’ve missed over the past few weeks.
Ty is one of those students. The running back greets me as I pass by his workstation.
"Hey, man!"
I pause, and he extends his fist so we can bump fists.
"How's it going?" he asks.
"It'd be going better if I hadn't been asked to come here," I mutter.
Ty's gaze shifts to the entrance of the adjacent office.
"She's nice, even if she's a bit too much on my case..."
I let out an exasperated sigh, not agreeing with him. "I don't care if she's cool, I just don't want someone watching my every move."
What I don't say is that my father already fills that role, and I don't need a second taskmaster on my back.
"Yeah, but that's kind of her job," Ty points out.
"What a crappy job. "
He nods. "For real! I'd shoot myself in her place," he says, mimicking a gun with his fingers before positioning them at his temple.
"But she helps anyone who wants it," he adds. "And she's hot."
I furrow my brow. I also found her attractive at the beginning of the school year, and I still don't understand why I haven't tried to seduce her.
But then, an image of Dixie flashes through my mind.
The petite brunette occupies too many of my thoughts.
I try to push her away, knowing it's a lost cause.
Only on the field am I able to focus completely.
"Player!"
Miss Coles's voice rises from inside the office. She must have heard me.
"Good luck, man," Ty says, laughing.
I give him an annoyed look before heading toward the entrance of the adjacent room.
Miss Coles is sitting behind her desk. It's the first time I've set foot in here, and I have no intention of lingering.
Another guy from the team is seated in one of the two armchairs near the wall.
With headphones glued to his ears, he's tapping away on his phone screen.
He doesn't react when I approach the desk.
The education counselor types on her keyboard before looking up at me. "Hello, please sit down."
She gives me a friendly smile that gets on my nerves.
If I've been summoned, it's because I did something wrong.
I'm not stupid enough to believe otherwise.
I don't sit down and hitch up the strap of my backpack while waiting for her to get to the point.
Miss Coles leans back in her chair while observing me.
"What do you want from me?" I blurt out, eager to be done with this nonsense.
"A little politeness wouldn't hurt, Player," she replies, "but if I asked you to come by, it's not to teach you good manners. Although you could certainly use them."
I expected her to be less direct, more conciliatory, to get me to do what she wants, but that's not the case. Her straightforward manner appeals to me, even if it's not to my advantage right now.
"You've near your limit on missed classes, and you're falling behind in two subjects.
" She picks up a sheet of paper from the desk, consults it, and continues, "If you don't turn things around now, you can kiss being bowl game eligible goodbye.
Not the position you want to be in with Chauncey graduating, and you the heir apparent. "
I shrug to show that I don't give a damn. Maybe if I fail all my subjects, my father will understand that I'm too stupid to succeed in my studies and he'll abandon his stupid project?
Keep dreaming!
Bolton Boardman isn't a man who accepts his plans being thwarted. He'll find a way to make me pay for my defiance before sending me back to jail. The prospect of finding myself behind bars again sends chills down my spine.
"I'm proposing that you come here every day to get back on track," Miss Coles continues. "I've already spoken with your professors, and they agree to let you do some extra credit essays to bring your average up. I'll help you, Player. With a little goodwill, I'm certain you can succeed."
I don't know what irritates me more, that she's planned everything behind my back or that she's presuming what I can or cannot do. I clench my teeth as she continues, "You'll come here every day, in between your last class of the day and practice."
I interrupt her, "And if I refuse?"
She blinks several times, as if my reply catches her off guard. Seriously? Does she always deal with willing guys? I doubt it, there are plenty of hopeless cases. I'm far from being the only one on the team.
The education counselor clasps her fingers above her keyboard before answering me, "Your life, your decisions.
But if you don't succeed at OMU, the path from there is the JUCO system, and hoping and praying some school comes looking for you after that. And despite what Netflix will have you believe, the NFL doesn’t look kindly on players who bounce from regular schools to JUCOs and back.
At least a one to two round hit on your draft stock. "
"Maybe I don't want to play pro ball."
Truth be told, it's never even been one of my dreams. I know many players want to join a pro team and make a living from their passion, but not me. Football has never been one of my priorities. It was my father's.
"You wouldn't be at OMU in that case," she retorts.
My lips twist into a bitter smile. If only she knew why and how I ended up at this university. But she can't know, nobody knows except my father, the dean, and me. The first two have no intention of revealing the truth, and I'd rather rip out my fingernails without anesthesia than talk about it.
Shame churns my gut, making me nauseous, but I push it as far away as possible. I lock it in a corner of my mind where it can't reach me anymore.
"As I told you, you'll come every day before going out on the field. I'm certain you'll catch up on everything in time for the last few weeks of the season. We all know how white knuckle bowl eligibility season is."
My fists clench, and I have to hold myself back from trashing everything in this fucking office. I didn't ask to be here, I didn't want any of this shit, and now I have to roll over like some damn lapdog!
Without answering, I turn on my heel and leave the office.
"So? What's your punishment?" Ty calls out to me with a laugh as I pass by him.
I don't even glance at him, I'm so on edge. It would take nothing for me to snap and turn this place into hell. But I know what anger can make me do, and I can't let myself go. If I crack, the university will be the least of my worries.
I storm back to the dorm, pissed to high heaven. I find all my neighbors gathered in the living room, and one glance is enough to spot the anomaly. A stranger is present. Sitting on a chair, next to Dixie, he seems to be the center of attention among the students.
I freeze when he places his hand on Alabama's. She stares at him with an admiring look on her face. Her eyes sparkle and she's leaning slightly toward him. My jaw tightens until my teeth grind.
What the hell is this?
Shit, what's happening today? Destiny seems to have it out for me because problems are raining down.
"So you work with tanks?" Saphya simpers, addressing the stranger.
"I've always admired Marines," Sonam comments.
I haven't crossed paths with that one often, but right now, I want to strangle him. So the visitor is a jarhead. He's wearing civilian clothes, but now that I know, I notice his shaved head, his way of carrying himself.
"You've put on muscle," Dixie notes. She feels the military man's bicep, and I want to destroy everything in the building.
I step into the room and my gaze collides with the newcomer's. There's no expression in his, it's almost impenetrable. I'm used to sizing up people I meet, but this big guy is different. He's as armored as a bulletproof vest.
At that moment, Dixie turns her head toward me and realizes I'm there.
She's about to speak to me, but I walk quickly toward my room and slam the door behind me.
My movements are mechanical as I change into workout clothes.
I've decided it's better for me to go for a run before practice to release my rage rather than give in to the temptation to wreck everything in my life.
Wise decision.
I grit my teeth thinking that's exactly what my father expects of me, to be a disciplined, reasonable, adult.
The Player from two years ago would have smashed everything, would have taken no prisoners.
I visualize the carnage he would have caused in the apartment, I can almost hear my roommates' screams when I would have thrown a chair through the common room window. Oh, that would have been so satisfying!
Once I'm dressed, I pass back through the living room ignoring everyone in it, but I can't help hearing Dixie's words, "I admire you, you know."
I understand she's speaking to this guy, the one who makes her eyes sparkle. She had that peculiar expression on her face when she looked at him earlier.
She loves him.
Fuck! This realization plants itself in my chest and it's not the sensation of a well-sharpened blade, no, it's as painful as a serrated knife tearing through my flesh. A fucking piece of metal sinking into my body, ripping it apart.
I rush out of the apartment, desperate to put distance between her and me. Between them and me. Because there's no doubt in my mind that if this guy came to spend his leave with Dixie, it's because he has feelings for her too .
She's going to hook up with a military guy. Now that I've taken her virginity and taught her a bunch of things, he can enjoy himself.
I race down the dorm stairs to reach the main walkway outside. Running, far and long, seems like the perfect solution to channel my rage.
Anger, bitterness, aversion, contempt, aggression, this cocktail that's so familiar to me it's sickening, takes over again.
As my shoes slap on the ground, my heart rate soars, my lungs tingle, and my muscles start to burn. But I don't slow down. I head toward the stadium, covering a good portion of the enormous campus, and when I reach the enclosure that's the Jaguars' territory, I enter to do laps around the field.
However, for the first time in my life, physical exertion doesn't calm me.
In fact, my thoughts rage, flashing images of Dixie in my head, reminding me of all the moments we spent together, those intimate times when I enjoyed myself like never before.
Her smiles, her moans, her warmth, her scent—everything comes back to haunt me.
I'm not at all calmer when I head back toward the dorm. Far from it! You could easily think I'm under the influence of coke or some other substance, I'm so worked up.
When I arrive in front of the university residence, I slow down and eventually stop. I look up toward the top of the facade, trying to decide what to do. If I run into this guy, I swear that...
"So you're the one sleeping with Dixie."
Oh holy shit!
I turn my head toward him .
The military guy is standing next to the porch. Was he waiting for me? A wicked joy rises in me at the thought that he might want to fight me. Maybe if I put my fist in his face, I'd finally find some peace?
He approaches me, and I remain frozen, tense. I reply sharply:
"What's it to you if I'm fucking her?"
He stares at me coldly. Is he considering killing me? The idea would almost be tempting given the mess my life has become. Then I think of Alabama, and I tell myself I wouldn't mind a few more rounds of sex before I die. But that seems highly unlikely now that her boyfriend is here.
She hadn't told me she had someone in her life.
Then again, you never really got to know her. All you cared about was her perfect ass and her tight little pussy...
The soldier is very close to me now. Close enough that I can make out the green shades in his irises.
"I know guys like you," he finally spits out.
And I can detect all the contempt he feels for me.
"You don't know who I am," I articulate coldly.
He shakes his head, and smirks. "Let me guess... a daddy's boy who thinks college is for fucking anything that moves."
I clench my teeth to contain myself, but he continues, "You can do whatever you want, but you leave Dixie out of this, you hear me?"
He glares at me, and it would probably have more impact if he were taller than me, but we're the same height. I give him a twisted smile:
"It's not your place to decide for her. As far as I'm concerned, there's no chance I'm going to stop fucking her.
" A flash of anger passes through his eyes and I'm thrilled: I'm not the only one with rage anymore.
I drive the nail deeper, whispering to him, "She loves everything I do to her, especially when I put my dick in her. .."
The next instant, I feel my head snap backward from the impact of a punch. A well-placed cross that could have knocked me out if I wasn't so amped up .
I straighten up and throw a good right uppercut straight into his stomach. He doubles over but quickly regains his position and our confrontation begins.