I sat perfectly still across from Hastings and kept my breathing even. Walking through the dark administrative wing to get here had twisted my stomach because the whole setup was too familiar. I grew up watching my family use this exact type of leverage. And keeping the athletic director at his desk on a Saturday night was just standard protocol when they wanted to bury a problem.
Still, while I knew exactly how the machinery worked, I never thought they would point it at me.
Now, surviving tonight meant playing the good legacy kid and lying my way out of this room without giving him a single thread to pull.
Hastings flipped open the file that was sitting between us. He adjusted his glasses and sighed.
“Karter,” Hastings said. “Thank you for coming in so late.”
He used what sounded like a concerned tone, as though he were just checking in on a friend. But I saw through the play the second he started talking.
The admin needed me to act like the intimidated freshman so they could quietly cut the problem player from the team. All I had to do was look rattled, nod along, and let them get rid of Aleksey.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but instead of folding, I leaned back in the chair. I crossed one ankle over my knee and forced my shoulders to drop. I pictured the flat, untouchablestare my dad used when people were wasting his time, and I let it settle over my face to hide the bitter panic I could taste in the back of my mouth.
“It isn’t a problem, sir,” I said smoothly. “How can I help you?”
Hastings laced his fingers together on the desk.
“My sense is that we need to clear up some rumors,” Hastings said. “We’ve received a complaint regarding your relationship with Aleksey Zotov.”
Leaning forward slightly, I rested my arms on the armrests, shifting in my seat. “A complaint?”
“Yes,” Hastings tilted his head. “It claims the two of you have an inappropriate dynamic. We only want to ensure your safety and well-being, Karter.”
He was pretending to care. But I answered with polite understatement, making sure our relationship sounded purely academic.
“I don’t know what you mean by dynamic,” I said, my voice dead level. “We study together.”
Hastings nodded slowly. “Of course. And did Aleksey ever enter your room uninvited?”
Every question painted Aleksey as a predator. I let out a quick breath, acting confused. “No, of course not.”
“The report mentions late-night visits to your dorm.” Hastings flipped a page in his folder. “Were your study sessions always appropriate?”
“Yes,” I said. “I help him with his classes. Coach Corby made the arrangement mandatory.”
“And he demanded nothing else from you?”
“No.”
“Did you ever feel pressured by Aleksey, Karter?” Hastings dropped his voice to that fake, gentle level again. “If you feel intimidated, the university is here to support you.”
“I don’t feel intimidated.” I stared right back at him. “He’s just my teammate.”
It was a complete standoff.
Hastings knew I was covering for Aleksey. And I knew Hasting was just fishing for a reason to cut the scholarship player from the roster. But we kept the volume between us low and polite. No one yelled. No one accused.
Hastings let out a slow breath and leaned back with a tight nod of his head. He obviously wasn’t buying a word of it.
The muscles at the base of my skull seized up. My fingers twitched with the urge to press into the back of my neck, but I locked my hands onto my knees instead. I would not give him a physical reaction to read.
“Well,” Hastings closed the manila folder. “Thank you, Karter. I appreciate you making the time. That will be all for tonight.”
“Have a good night,” I said.
I stood up and walked out.
