Page 14 of Sidelining the Safety

“Hello!” Mom sing-songed. “What’s shakin’ bacon?”

Lee shook his head. “Not this bacon. Too tired.”

“Early bird gets the worm?”

“Yeah.” Lee rubbed his eyes. “I’m beat. Long, but good day.”

“Tell me about it as you get ready for bed.”

“Okay.” Lee loved their nightly ritual when they could do it. All his life, whenever his mom was home in the evenings, she’d stand in the doorway as he got ready for bed, peppering him with questions about his day, or listening to him moan and groan about whatever had been bothering him.

“I went to the diner this morning. Place was packed. Got hit on four times.”

His mother laughed. “Of course you did. I hope you turned the ladies down nice.”

“The ladies, yeah…”

“Lee! You sly dog.”

Lee brushed his teeth, slipped off his clothes, and slid into bed, all while regaling her about Drew and Mac, how he “accidentally” outed himself to Yowie, and how much he liked his coaches and teammates. By the end, with his head comfortable on his pillow, he was yawning every other sentence.

“Time for bed, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I still need to tell you about the fundraiser, though.”

“Auntie mentioned it, but you’ll tell me tomorrow. Get some rest. Love you, Lee.”

“Love you, too, Mom. Night.” Lee didn’t bother hanging up because once his mom sang her crazy “go to sleep” song, his phone would turn off when she disconnected… Meanwhile, he’d be out like a light.

CHAPTER 12

DREW

Drew’s alarm went off at eight, followed by a succession of dings as his Do Not Disturb clicked off. He poked the snooze button and then grabbed the annoying piece of tech, placing it on his chest as his eyes closed again. When the alarm sounded the second time, he grumbled, pushing himself up in bed to lean against the headboard. He blinked at the blank screen of his phone.

When it binged again, his brain finally kicked in, and he sighed. What nonsense had his professor sent now? Drew slid his fingertip over the screen to unlock it. Three emails from his most ridiculous professor—the one who hated that Drew wanted to pursue physical therapy for athletes. Dr. Cain thought pro athletes were all elitist snobs with their special doctors, clinics, and the way hospitals catered to the teams if a player was injured and transported to their facility. Drew always wondered what deep-seated emotional turmoil had happened to make Dr. Cain think that way. Professional teams paid and donated big money to the local hospitals for quick service, security, and privacy, and gave huge contributions to local charities. Teams were good PR for the city and the public service sectors they utilized.

Drew read over the emails, rolling his eyes. Each consisted of one sentence, each more demanding than the one before, all wanting to know if he’d secured an internship yet. He needed to get a new advisor, pronto, because this was some serious BS. He toggled to his school email account and quickly sent a request for a meeting with the head of the department.

Another ding, another email, and Drew’s eyes widened upon seeing the sender. Hot damn, he didn’t think he’d hear from Dr. Jiminez so soon. Could he swing by for an interview today? Yes, ma’am. He had a two-hour class at nine and then nothing until Mr. Grant expected him at Just A Dollar More at three for work. Since school, the stadium, and work were all south of the river, traffic wouldn’t be as bad as if he had to head closer to Mac’s diner or the downtown area.

Bing! Damn, he was popular today, and peeps were on the ball. The department chair replied for him to stop by after class. Drew did the mental math and emailed Dr. Jiminez that he could be there around one o’clock. To be on the safe side, he texted his boss, too, and let him know he might be a little late. Mr. Grant was one of the good guys, encouraging Drew’s dream of working for a professional sports team. He knew one day Drew would leave for greener pastures.

With a spring in his step, he hit the shower, threw on a button-down over a nice pair of chinos, grabbed a protein shake, his messenger bag, a copy of his resume, and was out the door in under thirty minutes. Every good feeling he had vanished when he bounced into the classroom to see his professor, Dr. Agath, speaking with Dr. Cain and the department chair, Dr. Noah Paccia. Seriously, he didn’t want to deal with Cain at that moment. Drew had ignored his emails, figuring he’d reply after he scored the position with the Troopers.

He slid into a chair halfway up the tiered seating and set up his laptop, keeping one eye on the professors huddled in the front of the room. As more students filed in, Dr. Paccia looked around, caught sight of Drew, and nodded. He gave him a little wave of acknowledgment, and, of course, Cain saw and scowled at him. Drew ducked his head to hide how hard he rolled his eyes. What a jerk.

Dr. Agath glanced at her watch and shooed the men from her classroom. Cain and Paccia left, but not before Cain glared at Drew once more. Drew huffed as he turned away, only to find himself under the inquisitive gaze of his professor. She climbed the stairs, aiming directly for him. Drew steeled his spine even as his heart triple-timed it. She stood over him, looking down as he looked up at her, and he only relaxed when her lips curled into a small smile.

“I’ll let Dr. Paccia tell you more, but I look forward to working with you for your final year. I hadn’t been aware our interests align.”

Surprise and relief coursed through Drew. How had Dr. Paccia known he wanted to switch advisors? They hadn’t even met yet? And similar interests? With Dr. Agath? Drew couldn’t wait to meet with her to hear her thoughts on physical therapists in professional sports.

“Email me after your interview.”

“How—?” Drew spluttered. How did she even know about that?”

Dr. Agath chuckled as she tapped her nose and then turned around. “Okay, class, let’s review first steps for a sprained ankle. Who can tell me?—”

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