Campus Player

He shakes his head as if I was stupid enough to get screwed over. I’ll tell you who I got fucked over by...

“See? If I’d been around, I would have negotiated better terms for you. Get you paid under the table or something.”

Jesus Christ.

“That’s illegal. There are strict NCAA rules surrounding that kind of thing.”

He waves a hand. “They’re all corrupt—”

“How much, Dad?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. There is so much pressure building in my head. Any moment it’s going to explode, and then none of this will matter because I’ll be dead. “How much do you need?” How much will it take to make you go away and never come back? Drop a number.

“A grand.”

Well, fuck.

Does he really think I have that kind of money laying around?

I earn a couple thousand during the summer working for a friend’s landscaping company. I give Mom some and sock the rest away to carefully dole out through the year. A number of my teammates have beaucoup bucks. Money isn’t a concern for them. They’re able to go on epic spring break trips to the Bahamas, Mexico, and Costa Rica.

But I can’t afford that. If I’m lucky and the weather is nice in March, I can work for the week.

“I need a little something to tide me over until I can find a gig that pays well.” When I fail to react, he adds, “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. Although, after this year, you won’t need me to. You’ll be rolling around in the Benjamins.”

“If I give you this money,” I pause, carefully contemplating my response, “you need to consider it a parting gift. I don’t want to see you again.” Surprise flares in his eyes before they narrow. “And I want you to leave Mom alone. She doesn’t need you messing up her life again.”

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Maybe you’ve forgotten that I’m your pops.” He stabs a finger at me as fury flashes across his face. “Don’t think you’re too old for me to beat some sense into. I should have known that your mother would fuck this up. She put ideas in your head.” The smile he gives me is bone-chilling. “I see the way you look at me. Like you’re so much better.” An ugly glint enters his eyes. “But you know what? We’re the same, son.”

If I actually thought that was true, I’d shoot myself.

I rise from the booth before glaring down at him. As I do, I feel nothing but anger and resentment. The first, because he’s no longer locked up, and the second, because he’ll never be anything more than a leech trying to suck me dry. “We are nothing alike.” Unable to stomach the sight of him, I walk away.

“What about the money?” he snaps from the booth.

I stop but don’t turn. “You’ll have it by the end of the week.”

It takes thirty steps to reach the exit before I’m shoving through the door and into the fresh autumn air. I inhale a deep breath and hold it captive in my lungs before slowly exhaling. Nausea swirls in the pit of my gut before searching for a way out. Just as I make it to the truck, I puke near the driver’s side door, narrowly missing my shoes. Everything I wolfed down this morning makes an encore appearance. As soon as the contents of my belly are emptied, I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth. Only now do I realize it’s shaking.

My entire body is shaking.

I grab the keys from my front pocket and click the locks before slumping onto the seat and starting up the engine. Barely do I glance around before peeling out of the parking lot and hightailing it back to Western.

32

Demi

I snuggle against Rowan’s chest on the couch in my apartment. His arm is around me, and we’re chilling out, watching Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates. Zac Efron does something, and a chuckle bursts from my lips. This movie is stupid funny. I’ve probably seen it a dozen times, and it never gets old. When I realize that I’m the only one laughing, I glance at him to see what’s going on. It becomes obvious that Rowan may be physically with me, but his mind is somewhere else. A distant look fills his eyes.

It's one I’ve never seen before.

Instantly forgetting the movie, I reach up and stroke my fingers across his cheek to capture his attention. “Hey, are you all right?”

The strange expression dissolves as the corners of his lips hitch. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, guess I zoned out for a minute.”

“You want to turn off the movie?” I sit up and hunt around for the remote. “We don’t have to watch it.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It’s all good.”