I shake my head. “There’s a waitlist a hundred students deep.”
“Shit.” He drags a hand across his face, screwing his mouth into a firm line. “Okay, I’ll do what I hate doing, which is wrangling up a tutor out of thin air. I’m sure we can find someone on campus who speaks Chinese.”
Raising an eyebrow, I decide to be bold and press back on what sounds like a flimsy plan. “Are you going to find a random Chinese person and ask them to be my tutor?”
Coach gives me a grim, resigned nod, and an intrusive chuckle rises from my throat. It surfaces in a strangled bark.
“That’s kind of…”
“Kind of what, Russell?”
“Kind ofrandom. Just because someone might speak a language doesn’t mean they’ll be any good at teaching it.”
He grits his teeth. “Look, there’s no way I’m losing you during your last season here with us. The team needs you, and if I can make sure you’re with us come February, I’m gonna do what it takes. Got it?”
“Got it. Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWO
DEAN
Oh, he’s trying to intercept me. It’s written all over his terrible poker face.
That, or the lanky history major is checking me out.
I lock eyes with my teammate Joe, and his muscles tense, ready for me to pass. The history major—James, I think—lunges toward me, his face intense and determined, so I do what I was planning in the first place.
Pivoting, I call out to Marcus, tossing him the ball and getting it safely out of reach from the other team. James grumbles a quiet curse, and I smile, running off to where Marcus is about to do a layup.
And he scores. We crowd around, slapping his back and congratulating him before getting back to work. Not that the stakes are ever really high for intramural basketball, but winning is fun.
Winning byfifteenis even more fun. The economics intramural team is fucking stacked, and the supply of worthy opponents has been in a shortage for as long as I’ve been on this team, and probably for years beforehand, too.
Sheesh, I’m beat. I need a shower and a nice long night of uninterrupted sleep. The paper I have due tomorrow can wait. Sweat keeps beading at my hairline and trickling annoyingly down my forehead, so I grab a towel from my gym bag and plunge my face into it, wiping myself clean.
When I remove the towel and blink, I spot two unfamiliar guys heading my way. A look around me confirms that everyone else has left, so they’re definitely comingfor me.
The shorter one of the pair squints at his clipboard, then at me, before nudging his co-worker and walking up.
“Hey, uh, are you Chinese?” the guy asks.
I…what?
I can’t contain my scoff, and I extend my right arm. “Hi, my name is Dean. We haven’t met before, so let me introduce myself,” I say, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“Oh. Sorry,” he mumbles, and his companion smacks his shoulder. “I’m Wyatt, and this is Chris. We’re student support assistants for the varsity baseball team.”
Okay, and?I nod instead, deciding to stay polite.
Chris rolls his eyes at Wyatt and speaks up. “I’ll make this quick. One of our players chose a Chinese elective, and he isn’t doing so well. The team wants us to find him a tutor ASAP and didn’t tell us where to look.”
“So you decided to stake out an intramural basketball game between Econ and History,” I deadpan.
Wyatt adopts a sheepish expression. “The Econ intramural basketball team’s roster has a ton of Chinese last names.”
“Most of the players are Korean,” I lie, deciding to fuck with him for the sake of it. “You got lucky because I’m the only Chinese person on thewhole team.”
Chris grabs Wyatt’s clipboard and whacks him on the head.
