Page 88 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“The video has been deleted on our server, and once we’ve tracked down whoever filmed this version,” he points to the screen with his eyebrows, “we’re hopeful we can nip it in the bud. The freshman guys watching it nearly peed their pants when I told them the consequences of sharing it, so hopefully that message will be relayed. That doesn’t mean you’re getting away with this scot-free.”

I sit up straighter, clasping my clammy hands. “I didn’t expect it to, sir.”

He holds his hand out. “First thing, I need you to give me the key card back. Can’t believe you shared it with a hookup.” I nod but don’t correct him. Bella must have had his keycard to get in there in the first place, which won’t make it better.

“How many games will I be benched for?”

Staring at my fingers, I look up when Coach is silent.

“Oh, son. I wish I could say that you’d just be benched for a few games. The Dean wanted to suspend you.” All the air catches in my throat because this can’t be happening. Suspension? Everything I’ve ever worked for, everything my dad would be proud of, is crumbling before me.

“Drew.” Coach sighs. “This is much more serious than a slap on the wrist. Not only did you have sex with some girl in a room you weren’t supposed to have access to, but you also threatened the reputation of the entire institution. You still are threatening it since we can’t confirm whether we have all the copies of the video.”

“But the guy in that video could have been anyone. The only reason you suspected me is because of my shirt.”

“Let’s be real, Drew. How many elite football players that have access to the football weight room are going to wear another man’s jersey while getting their dick sucked?” Wincing, I drop my hands in disappointment. “However, if this gets out of hand, we’re going to deny, deny, and deny it’s you. We’ll say it’s someone trying to bring you down and posing as you or something to save face. Internally, though, we need to deal with this.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything to fix this.”

“I hate to say this, Drew, because we’ve been close for years. You’re one of the reasons I could even secure this gig in the first place, but I can’t show favoritism.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You’re off the team.”

My eyes bug out, and my mouth goes dry. Off the team? But I was supposed to lead it this year. This was supposed to be the year I showed everyone why I should be a top draft pick.

“Off the team?”

“We’ll say you’re injured, so it doesn’t affect you as a prospect in your senior year.”

“Senior year? I’m off the team until my final year?”

He closes his eyes and pauses. This is clearly hurting him to say as much as it hurts me to hear. “Like I said, I told the Dean I’d deal with you, but there were certain stipulations that I couldn’t control. Being kicked off the team was one of them. Believe me; I need you this year. You’ll still be able to train with us, and I’d hope you’d help coach some of our up-and-coming quarterbacks, but we can’t have you stepping onto the field representing us.”

I want to blow out a sarcastic breath in annoyance because I can’t believe we are having this conversation at all. He wants me to train my replacements. What if they are so good that I can never come back?

“It could be worse. At least it’s not a complete suspension, and you’ll be able to play again when you repeat senior year.”

I have no words. Nothing can make me feel better because this was all completely avoidable and completely my fault.

I ball my hands into fists because I really want to smash something, but I have to keep my cool. Pushing out my chair, I go to leave but then stop myself. “Is that all, Coach?”

“Yeah. That’s all. Sleep on it, and let’s talk tomorrow.”

Talk about what? My future is broken, and I have no way to fix it. I step away, holding back the anger radiating through my body, and just as I get to the door, Coach calls my name.

“Who’s the girl in the video?”

I don’t turn; I just ask, “Why?”

“It’s not fair that only you get punished for this. It takes two to tango.”

I keep my gaze focused on the wood grain of the door because I don’t want my face to give it away.

“I don’t know her name.” Like I would ever rat out Bella. Even though we aren’t talking, I would never do that to her. Most importantly, I can’t do it to Coach either. Imagine finding out that it was your daughter under my naked ass? That would solidify my suspension from the team, and break a man I consider a father figure.

Coach chortles. “You’re not serious, are you?” I nod and glance over my shoulder to see the disappointment in his eyes. I get it. He’s essentially raised me to be the man I am today, and here I am, disrespecting women in his eyes. I hate disappointing the only father figure in my life, but it’s better than Bella disappointing her actual father. “Ever think that it might have been her who filmed it?”

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