When I turned, however, I only found Quinn Hamilton, a freshman tight end, jogging to catch up. I relaxed. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were going to the training session tonight or in the morning.”
During off-season, the football team had mandatory sessions to train in the weight room. Since I worked every evening I was available, I usually opted for the early morning workouts before class. It only afforded me three or four hours of sleep on the nights I worked, but to keep my athletic scholarship, sleep was overrated. I had three very special people relying on me to keep it together.
“I’m a morning bird, didn’t you know?” I playfully shoulder checked the freshman as I lied. I’d never been a morning bird. I hated mornings. I’d sleep in every day if I could.
“Cool. That’s what I’m doing too.” Quinn scratched the back of his neck and glanced away, letting me know he had something more important to ask. “And I was hoping you could —if you wanted to—um, show me a couple throwing techniques.”
I lifted my eyebrows. Shit. Was this bad karma number three? “What? You looking to steal my position?”
Though a small fissure of dread and panic caught me unaware, I grinned and threw my arm around Quinn’s shoulder to let him know I was teasing, though honestly, I didn’t want competition. I already had a second and third-string QB foaming at the mouth for my spot. What was worse, Hamilton had fucking talent, and I could see him making a better quarterback than the spot he held now. He had never quite fit as a tight end.
As long as he wasn’t better than me, I could handle this.
Quinn blushed and ducked his head. “I played quarterback in high school,” he admitted.
“Hey, that’s cool.” I squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. “You need to do what’s best for you. Who knows? If Dr. Kavanagh has anything to say about it, I’m well on my way to being academically dismissed. We’d definitely need another QB then.”
The freshman blinked until he realized I was joking...or, at least, half joking. Then he grinned. “You have a class with Kavanagh, too? Man, she’s harsh.”
“Yeah,” I agreed wholeheartedly, “a total, raging bitch.” Not that I actually considered her a bitch per say. She was just tough and stuck by her guns in a classroom, which I kind of respected. But it was so much easier to blame her for my sucky grades than admit I just wasn’t smart enough. So, yeah. Let’s call her a bitch.
From nearby, someone let out a shocked, sputtering cough.
Fuck. For some reason, I knew I wouldn’t need three guesses to figure out who’d just heard me. Enter karma number three. Already fearing what I would discover, I glanced around to focus on Kavanagh herself walking along the path directly behind us.
I could actually see my D dwindle to an F even as her green-eyed glare latched onto me.
Well, shit. Whatever happened next, I refused to let her see how crappy I felt for letting her overhear what I’d just said.
CHAPTER TWO
“She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity.” - Flannery O'Connor, Good Country People
ASPEN
I can’t say I was surprised to hear Noel Gamble call me a bitch. I would’ve been shocked if he’d actually defended me.
No, really, she’s an amazing teacher; I’ve learned so much from her. I feel as if her impact on my life has helped improve the quality of who I am as a person.
Yeah, that was never going to happen.
Still. His insult—even expected as it was—stung. The sound I made was unplanned. It just sort of tore through my chest and gurgled from my throat in a pained choke.
When Gamble and his little disciple swung around, I felt caught in the act, even though I’d done nothing wrong. An embarrassing heat flooded my limbs. Wanting to die before I let him see me hurt, I schooled my features as tightly as possible, reining in my expression as I arched a silent eyebrow.
“Let me guess,” I murmured coolly, or at least in a tone I hoped sounded glacially chilled, as if I didn’t care about his opinion, because the last thing I wanted him to think was that I cared...about him. “You’re a little put out about the grade you received on your paper today.”
His powder blue, almost periwinkle, eyes went flint hard as they narrowed. “You know, it’s like you can read my mind, Dr. Kavanagh.”
He didn’t look apologetic for being caught bashing me. He didn’t sound embarrassed. He didn’t even pretend to feel an iota of remorse. He merely looked pissed. I wondered if he’d known all along I’d been walking behind him and he’d wanted me to hear his insult.
Next to him, the football player who took Introduction to Literature from me jerked a step away, disassociating himself from his beloved quarterback. Smart boy.