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My back presses deeper into the cushion of the chair as I cross a leg over my knee, making myself comfortable. Exactly.
“My worry is not for the present…but for the future…”
This grabs my attention and holds on to it as strongly as a female when she’s giving you those fuck-me eyes.
I’m as much a goner for those as they are a sucker for my cock.
“Finn, you’re a gifted player and I’d hate for that reputation to further be diminished off the court by one bad night. Unluckily for you, it happened to be documented. Again, it shouldn’t be my business, but…”
He eyes me sternly, his message clear. To use his words, he doesn’t care if I’m a player outside of here, but basically, don’t be stupid. Don’t be dumb and don’t get caught.
Unfortunately, this article is proof of just that.
“I’ve overlooked the rumors for years, Finn, but seeing it firsthand like this, I have no choice but to bring it up. Going pro is your dream—”
My head shoots sideways and my jaw goes rigid.
I know what I want.
Coach knows what I want too and is trying to use it against me. He’s not doing it maliciously, only looking out, but it doesn’t take away that sting of the truth.
“You went too far this time.”
I openly wince.
My latest stunt, the same one that landed me the headliner for this week’s article, is not my brightest in hindsight.
Driving across district lines and stealing our school’s rival’s mascot to impress some sorority girl, not the smartest, or is it the dumbest—thing I’ve done?
Combine too much to drink at the house party and my head being a nutcase, it was honestly a lost cause from the beginning.
The worst part? Once I arrived back from my stealth-as-shit mission, I never made it back inside. Instead, I passed out right there on the front porch with the stuffed bulldog as my pillow.
I cringe, remembering not a whole lot of that night but enough.
The picture they chose to use for the article, not gonna lie, won’t win me any beauty contests. My mouth is hanging open, drool pooling below it, and I only have one sock on. My pants are ripped to shreds, and if my phone hadn’t died, it would’ve most definitely been the first choice for cuddles instead of the stuffed dog.
Don’t even get me started on how I lost not one but both of my shoes…
Turns out the real-life dogs they had on their campus protecting the dumb stuffed thing were, in fact, not cuddly bulldogs like their mascot but rottweilers. Needless to say, they were a fan of expensive designer shoes.
“You need to stay out of the media like this if you want to go pro. No controversy.” His voice is more serious than I’ve ever heard it before.
I suck on the inside of my cheek.
“Keep your head down this summer and focus on your craft. I can’t keep holding your hand and defending your actions to this school if you don’t do that. Got it?”
Basically, grow up.
My mouth goes numb from the strain.
Since my head stays turned while he continues to actively scold me like I’m a child, all I have to focus on is his wall of success.
More accurately, it stares atmethough. Trophies, medals, articles, you name it and he’s got every success story from the last decade plastered to that wall.
…I’d hoped to one day be on that wall.
It mocks me now.
