Page 4 of Scoring Position

She sits up straight in her seat, clasping her hands together in front of her as a devious grin pulls at the corners of her mouth. “Good morning, Lark,” she says smugly. “I was going to call you to let you know we wouldn’t be needing you in the registration office anymore, but I got sidetracked. Sorry, you came all this way just to have to leave again.”

My fists clench at my sides, and I do my best to keep control of the rage that’s bubbling under the surface. I should’ve known after what happened at the courthouse on Friday that she wouldn’t make my life easy. I always suspected that she helped me get the job here at the university as a way to control me. At the time, I was only concerned about how I would be able to pay for my education, so I pushed those thoughts aside. If I hadn’t, I’d have been prepared for this.

“Gail,” I say, trying to remain calm. “You can’t fire me just because Ryan and I got divorced. That’s not fair.” There has to be some kind of rule or law against this type of treatment toward employees—not that she gives a shit about rules.

She pushes her chair back from the desk, standing and turning away from me to walk over to the wall of windows in her office. She doesn't even look me in the eyes as she speaks so quietly that the receptionist, who’s the only other person near us, couldn’t possibly hear. “As the dean of this school, I can do whatever I want, dear. I told you it wasn’t over between us. I tried to play nice. You had multiple opportunities to give back our last name, but you wouldn’t budge. I won’t let you make my family look foolish while you teach deviants how to have sex. Good luck affording your classes when you don’t get them for free. Now, please leave the premises, before I have you escorted out of here in front of everyone.”

I blink rapidly, attempting to rid my eyes of the tears beginning to fill them. I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m frustrated, or because I’ve worked so hard for the last three years, just to have it all ripped away over something so stupid. I could just do what she wants. I could go back to my maiden name and beg her to keep my job, but fuck that. Gail Dawson is nothing but a bully, and she gets away with it time and time again because nobody ever stands up to her. That ends with me. If she wants to stop me from graduating and starting a career that can truly make a difference, too fucking bad. I’ll find a way to get there without her.

“Fine,” I spit, removing my lanyard from around my neck and slamming it down on her desk. She startles, turning around and finally giving me the eye contact I deserve. “But if you think this means you’re getting your way in the end, you’re dead wrong. One day I’ll open a practice of my own, and your last name will be in great big letters on the front of the building.”

She chokes on a gasp as I turn and leave the office with an even brighter fire for the future I want. I don’t know how I’m going to make it happen, but I need to find a way to pay for classes on my own and achieve all the things she thinks she just yanked from my grasp.

FOUR

ACE

“Okay, wait,”I murmur to myself as I reread the words on the page of my textbook. “So, the average vagina is only about three point six inches deep, but the average erect penis is almost six inches? How does that even make sense?”

I've been at this assignment for the last hour, and it's not any clearer now than it was when I began. My eyes are crossing from the amount of time I've spent staring at this book, trying to understand the shit I'm reading. The first part of the lesson wasn’t so bad because all we had to do was take a quiz about our own sexuality and answer some questions. We didn’t even have to turn it in—we just had to go online and confirm that it was completed. But now that I’ve moved on to the actual coursework, I’m completely lost.

The very first part of this assignment went over the male anatomy, which worked out well for me since that’s exactly what I have. But once we moved on to the female body, everything stopped making sense…especially when it came to arousal and how we differ in that area. For guys, it's simple. We get turned on, we get hard, and we're ready to go. But a woman’s body is so much more complex, and I’ll admit I had no idea. The moreinformation I’m trying to soak in right now, the less it’s making sense.

“Fuck,” I groan, closing the book and dragging my hands down my face. I’m supposed to have the quiz that accompanies this chapter done by noon, which definitely isn’t going to happen. As it is, I had to email the professor and ask for more time because we had a game yesterday. She was kind enough to extend the midnight deadline by twelve hours, but there’s no way I’ll be able to do it.

I need help.

As much as I didn’t want to have to do this, I really don’t have much of a choice. I’m already behind on my work and the semester has barely even started. If I wait much longer, I’ll lose control and fail this class. Then I’ll be stuck in school even longer.

I set the book on the couch beside me before grabbing my phone and pulling up the number for the registration office. I’m sure there’s a department dedicated to this sort of thing, but I don't have time to figure out which one it is, so hopefully, they can point me in the right direction. I wait on the line as it rings, a familiar voice answering quickly.

“Sun State University registration. This is Hailey. How can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “Uhh, yeah. This is Ace Mathers. I think we spoke a few weeks ago regarding an elective I needed to take for the summer semester.”

“Oh, yes!” she replies cheerfully. “Were you able to get everything set up okay?”

“Yeah. That’s actually why I’m calling,” I say. God, this shit is embarrassing, but I’m out of options. “I registered for Human Sexuality, but I’m having a little trouble keeping up with the assignments already. Can you tell me if the school offers any type of tutoring?”

“We normally do,” she replies, “but not during the summer semester, since nobody is on campus. Plus, if I remember our conversation from before, you travel a lot. You would probably want to hire someone privately to help you. Everyone we employ here is a student, so they’d need to stay in the area.”

I lean my head back, looking up at the ceiling in frustration. I swear, it’s been one thing after another with this. I’m about to give up. But every time I think about it, I remember everything my grandma did for me, and I just can’t. “Do you know of anybody that would be able to help me? I’d definitely need them to travel with me to away games sometimes, but I’d cover all their expenses and make sure they were taken care of on the road.” I know it’s probably unconventional, but at this point, I’m desperate. I need to get through this class.

She pauses for a moment, thinking before she answers. “Actually, I might know someone, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone you got this information from me. I know for a fact that she took that course and passed with a perfect score. I can’t guarantee that she’ll say yes, but it’s worth a try.”

“Respectfully,” I say, putting her on speakerphone and pulling up my Notes app, “I’m fucking desperate right now. This girl could be a serial killer or one of those people who puts mayo in their coffee, and I’d still ask her.”

She laughs before rambling off the info for the girl I need to get ahold of. I don’t ask questions, assuming this is a college student from the area who could use some extra cash over the summer. Well, she’s in luck, because I’ll empty my bank account if she can help me pass without it becoming detrimental to my game.

We end the call, and I immediately dial the number I was given, tapping the tip of my middle finger on my knee as it rings. Nerves wash over me, because what if I can’t convince her? What if she’s busy and can’t travel with me? What if she has ajealous boyfriend who doesn’t like the idea of her going all over the country with me for the next month and a half? Letting my grandma down isn’t an option, but if I have to drop out of this course and take another one in the fall—while we’re hopefully in the middle of playoffs—it’ll be impossible to fully focus on either one.

Every bad outcome plays over and over in my head until the ringing stops and a feminine voice comes over the line.

“Hello?” she says in greeting.

Fuck, she sounds kind of sexy. Now I’m even more nervous.

Clearing my throat, I somehow locate my balls long enough to respond. “Hi. Is this Lark Dawson?”

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