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Introduction to Marketing Research 10120 - C
Introduction to Sports Marketing 10130 - B
Introduction to Economics 10100 – F
Fuck. I was doing okay until that final grade. An F in economics? How did I fail that so spectacularly? It was described as one of the most basic courses the college offered, and yet, there I was, failing.
How bad do you even have to be to get an F? Did I get anything right?
I clenched my fists, doing my best to remain calm because even though I was working my ass off, it was doing nothing to improve my grades. How did other people do this so easily? I couldn’t help but think about the pretty redhead that refused to help me. My only shot at redemption hated my guts. All because I thought she was too hot to be smart. It was like some cruel joke.
Leaning back in my chair, I bit my bottom lip, using the pain to get my mind to focus on anything but going back home to my small town in Georgia and showing up as a failure. People expected something of me. My talent was apparently destined to get me out of there, but it didn’t matter how far I could throw a ball. Covey U would kick me out if I couldn’t figure out economics.
Shit.
I was screwed. I knew it before I opened my eyes and checked, but now, for the first time since I played in my high school national championship, I could feel the blood pumping through my veins, beating like a drum, because I had no plan to get out of this.
Feeling dejected, I ran a hand through my hair and looked out my window before quickly diverting them to my desk. Unfortunately for me, the previous occupier of this room, Devin Walker’s girlfriend, lived just opposite, and our windows were close enough that we could talk if we ever felt so inclined. Not that we did. Devin would have something to say about it, and I’d rather not get on his bad side. The sheer curtains were open, and for the split second I looked, I could see Reign sitting at her desk, writing an essay with a small smile on her face.
Easy for her to be happy. Her boyfriend was one of the best defensive linemen in the NFL, and he was so obsessed with her that I was certain they’d get married once she graduated. Hell, I knew for a fact that Devin would marry her now if he could. The guy was so hung up on her, I wouldn’t be surprised if he set up a camera in my room to make sure I didn’t go near her.
Regret coursed through my veins as I thought about the legacy Devin left behind. How the hell did he do it? No one expected him to go as far as he did. He was a good defensive lineman, but he wasn’t the best. The coaches told him he’d be lucky to get drafted in the second or third round, but by some twist of fate, he was picked in the first round by the Charlotte Crossbills. They’d made a good decision with him too. He was out there, killing it on his rookie contract. I only had respect and admiration for the guy, and how hard he worked to be taken seriously as a first-round pick.
It did, however, highlight my situation. I was the most anticipated college quarterback for the last few years because a video of me throwing a ball ninety yards went viral. I wanted to say it was a fluke and that it had only happened once, but it wasn’t. I’d earned that attention with hard work and dedication, but no one was going to see it if I kept riding that bench.
And right now, I didn’t see any way out of that destiny. Soon I would be a no one. Just a distant memory or a quarterback that wasn’t smart enough to make it to the NFL. Maybe I should have taken up baseball. That way I could have left for the Major’s straight out of high school, and I wouldn’t have to worry about my academic performance.
Fuck!
I rested my hand on my mouse, gripping it tightly because I couldn’t exactly throw a fit without my roommate’s outside hearing. If they heard anything, I knew that they’d come in and ask me what was wrong. Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather leave a legacy of people thinking I was dumber than a pile of rocks than open my mouth and prove it.
Why did Covey U have to be so hung up on grades?
Why didn’t I go to one of the other schools whose academics weren’t as important?
Why couldn’t Aster just help me?
Closing my eyes, I rubbed the lids with my fingers, squeezing them hard because I was trying to ignore the consistent banging noise coming from Aiden’s room. He may have installed soundproof walls, but that didn’t seem to stop the vibration of the bed banging against them, which sucked for me because he seemed to need to screw his girlfriend on a near hourly basis.
Folding my arms, I grunted to myself as I stared at my grades, trying to forget about the fact that my roommate was getting his dick wet next door. I bet grades weren’t something Aiden had to worry about. He was handed everything he ever wanted on a silver platter. The guy had so much, sometimes he didn’t see it. Money, a hot girlfriend, a multi-million-dollar business to take over. He owned the fucking house I was sitting in for crying out loud. He could do whatever the hell he wanted and was still a better quarterback than at least ten percent of active quarterbacks in the NFL, but he didn’t care. Football didn’t matter to him. He was done with the minute he graduated, and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous of him because it must feel odd to be able to turn down an opportunity like entering the Draft when there are so many people vying to be considered for it.
Beat after beat, the banging became so aggressive that my computer screen started to shake. Had they not explored each other’s body’s enough last night? I woke up in the middle of the night after a haphazard sleep, thinking I’d somehow rolled the dice and ended up stuck in Jumanji. Sadly, I was just in my room, listening to my landlord rail my next-door neighbor. Each thud served as a reminder that it was yet another thing I’d failed at during my time here.
Getting a girl.
Not that I was completely interested in getting a girlfriend, or wanted that Devin fairytale, but something would have been nice. Just not with a jersey chaser because they’d be pushing for me to get off the bench for all the wrong reasons.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The knock shook my door, and I was feeling like I was under attack. “Hey, T. It’s time for practice.” Matty, one of my roommates, shouted through the door. “Are you coming?”
I stared at my computer screen, thankful that he couldn’t see my face or the noticeable eye roll at his question. It was six am. I’d planned on checking my grades at five am, so I wouldn’t feel so lethargic and shitty before going, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I spent the full hour wallowing in my own self-pity. Not something I’d admit outside these four walls.
With my workout gear on, I was ready to go, but once I got there, would Coach turn me away? Would the team shun me to the other side of the gym reserved for non-athletes because that was what I was now, right? A worthless, washed-up athlete.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“T, are you up?” he jiggled the door, but I’d locked it under Devin’s wise advice. Apparently, this room used to be used as a gateway for pranks, and he said the only way to keep it safe was to have it constantly locked.
