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Liam was wicked smart. He’d probably figured it out and decided Coury and his baseball dream weren’t worth getting any more involved.
That was . . . for the best.
Beckett had been right. If he pitched well this season, Coury would be drafted. Then it was off to whatever Tiny Town USA his new team sent him to. Dating would mean hiding their relationship. Coury hated that idea. Liam deserved much better.
He promised Beckett he wouldn’t hurt Liam, and he wouldn’t.
Besides, he had spring training coming up. It would take a lot of his free time to get back in form.
Becks was right. Coury should focus on baseball and let Liam find the right person.
* * *
“Mr. Henderson?” Professor Glover called out above the clatter of students packing up their stuff. When they made eye contact, Glover said, “Can I see you?”
Coury nodded. He didn’t need to be as smart as Liam to know what was coming. He shoved his books into his bag, zipped it shut, and made the walk of shame down the stairs.
Glover left him standing in front of the desk while he cleaned up. “Let everyone leave before we talk.”
Scanning the lecture hall, there were only a couple of students left, and they weren’t waiting to be called down to join Coury.
The lone item left on the desk was a test, face down. His, no doubt.
“Mr. Henderson.” Glover turned over the paper.
A big red “F” circled next to the number sixty-four. Not as bad as he thought he’d done, but still an F. Glover slid it across the desk.
“That’s not what I expected from you. You’ve never gotten less than a B. Is there a problem?”
“Baseball practice started, and that’s taking up more time. I haven’t adjusted my schedule yet.”
The problem wasn’t time management. Sitting on the sidelines, he had plenty of time to stay current. He’d even brought his books.
Every time he opened one, he thought about Liam. What had he been doing the last week? Was he okay? Did he miss Coury as much as Coury missed him?
“I suggest you sort that out, fast. As I said at the start of the semester, I toss out the lowest two quiz scores. Everyone has a bad day, but this . . .”
He tapped the paper and waited until Coury looked up.
“This is troubling. You need to get on track because I won’t play favorites. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I appreciate you talking to me about it. I’ll do better.”
Glover tilted his head. “It’s not just baseball, is it?”
Coury thought before he answered. Glover was being nice, but he was still the professor. And Liam’s boss.
“It’s not just about practice. My best friend reminded me that if I get drafted, I’ll pretty much have to say goodbye to all my . . . friends.”
“Really?” Glover smiled. “I hadn’t realized baseball sent its draftees to a deserted island with no phone or internet service.”
The snark brought Coury out of his funk for a few seconds. “They do. And they make you go through security screening so you can’t smuggle in any devices.”
Glover folded his arms and leaned back against the wall.
Coury had always known what would happen if he got drafted. For a long time, it was just a kid’s dream. As he got older, it became more of a reality. He’d gotten scholarship offers and interest from schools. “My numbers last year were good enough that I’ll get drafted if I come close to them this year. Things got real a lot faster than I expected.”
Laughing, his professor pushed forward and put Coury’s test back in his briefcase. “The expression is, ‘Youth is fleeting.’ I understand what it means to give up what’s comfortable to pursue your dreams. Life is about new adventures and discovering new things. And people.”
“No offense, sir, but you have someone who’s doing all that with you.”
“Now. It wasn’t always like that.” Glover zipped his bag shut. “When it’s the right person, you’ll know it. In the meantime, I need you to pick up your game in my class. Do whatever you did before, but don’t short-change your education.”
“Yes, sir.” He met the man’s gaze. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Henderson.”
Coury stood there while Glover walked off, and when the door shut, he pulled out his phone. That F hurt. He’d prided himself on all the hard work he’d done with Liam, how much better he’d been. He should have studied harder, like Liam said. But it was impossible to do anything when he jumped at every beep his phone made, hoping it was Liam.
He ground his teeth and called up Liam’s name. He started to type. Stopped. Erased the message.
Coury swallowed tightly.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and jogged up the steps.
