Kade chuckles. “Shut it, O’Leary.”
This is a constant theme in our locker room. Too much testosterone— especially after a heavy on-field workout. The five of us — my housemates and myself— can be aggressive with each other, but at the end of the day, these players are my brothers. They’d do anything for me. I’d do anything for them. Although we do a lot of ball-busting, we’re truly friends and more importantly we’re teammates.
These guys are the ones who got me through my miserable breakup with Evie. I thought Evie and I were solid until I caught her cheating.
I don’t feel like watching these barbarians start their antics, so I grab my bag and slip out of the locker room unnoticed.
I sling my duffle over my shoulder and head to Coach Johnson’s office. Christopher Johnson, head coach of the Tennessee University Rebels, is a quiet man and I respect the hell out of him. He’s taken some weak players and made them strong. He’s always fair, always tells the truth— a true black-and-white kind of man. No gray zone with this guy.
I tap on the door.
“Enter.”
I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and open the door.
“Oh, Radcliffe. Take a seat,” he says as he points to the chair across from the desk.
He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and tosses it to me. I catch it and he chuckles. “Maybe we oughta put you downfield.”
I smirk. “Funny.”
He takes water for himself and sits behind his desk. He opens a folder and peruses a paper. “Radcliffe, I got a note from Professor Griffith.”
Fuck. Calculus.
“He said your grade is low and although you’ve attended all the study sessions, he feels a tutor would be valuable.”
I groan. “A tutor? Really?”
Let’s just say math isn’t my superpower. Hated math in high school and my feelings about it haven’t changed. Especially Calculus.
“Yes. Really.” Coach Johnson takes a swallow from the water bottle. “And he has it lined up. You’ll report to the library Thursday after practice and meet with Adison.”
I slump in the chair.
“The note says, ‘I have John Radcliffe lined up to meet with one of the tutors. Name is Adison Miller and I know the tutoring will help him immensely. Adison is great at working with students one-on-one and has been known to bring math grades up after only a few sessions. Please have John report to the library on Thursday at 4:30 in Room B-4 to begin the sessions with Adison.’”
Coach hands me a piece of paper with Adison’s name plus the date and time of our first session. Although I appreciate the support from the coaching staff, this paper feels like a brick in my hand. If my father finds out I’m seeing a tutor for math, it’s only going to make things worse for me. My stomach clenches.
“Come on, Rush. I know you like handling things on your own, but I think this guy can really help you out.”
I let out a breath. “Fine. I’ll meet him.”
I don’t care about math. I’m majoring in kinetics. I’m also interested in coaching or possibly physical therapy. But unfortunately, to graduate and have any chance at the pros, math is part of the deal.
My father, the Sr. version, was a record-setting quarterback here at Tennessee University. I’m considered a decent quarterback, but I’m obsessed with filling my father’s shoes, and, like him, moving on to a professional team. My parents expect nothing less. And they’ll get nothing less.
The bassfrom the music downstairs reverberates through the rafters to my upstairs bedroom at the football house. After pulling on a pair of clean blue jeans and a black T-shirt, I head downstairs. I don’t plan on getting drunk, but I could have a few beers and a little fun.
I bounce down the stairs to find our living room filled with students, making my way through the crowd into the kitchen where Sean is handling the drinks.
“What for you, my man?” Sean grins. “How about you get started with some shots?”
I groan. “Not tonight. I’m going to nurse a beer or two.”
Sean exaggerates a frown. “You used to be the cool guy.”
I shake my head. “I’ve got shit to do tomorrow and can’t afford a damn hangover.”