Page 82 of Matched By My Rival
PARKER
I arrived at the library before Simon and chose a table in a quiet area on the second floor. While I waited, I texted to let him know where I was and scanned the building for good hookup spots.
When I realized what I was doing, I rolled my eyes. This secret relationship stuff had corrupted me. Before Simon, the only places I’d ever had sex were in a bed—either at hotel or on the sly while my parents were away. That was laughable now.
Simon arrived, smelling of aftershave and coffee. His thick, dark hair fell over one eye as he leaned in to set a cup before me. “You really didn’t have to study with me. I know you get plenty of study hours in already.”
I watched him unload his laptop from his bag before settling in the chair across from me. He took a quick sip of his own coffee before setting it aside.
“I’m taking an extra class this semester, so I’m a little behind.” I raised my cup, sweet caramel bursting on my tongue. Simon had remembered my favorite coffee. “Thanks for this.”
“Sure. Why the extra class?”
“I changed the focus of my major from secondary education to elementary.”
I hadn’t yet told my parents about the switch. It meant I’d work with grade-schoolers instead of high school students. It also meant I wouldn’t be doing any coaching unless it was for a rec league.
Which sounded pretty good to me, but I had no idea how they would take it.
“Oh, so what grade would you teach?” Simon asked.
“First grade, I hope. I want to get the kids before they’re totally corrupted.”
He chuckled. “So you can do the warping of young minds?”
“Exactly.” I grinned. “Might as well mold them to be decent human beings.”
“That’s a nice thought.”
I nodded. “I have to finish all my requirements in time for student teaching next spring.”
“I kind of thought you’d teach high school.”
“So that I could coach?” I guessed. When he nodded, I said, “That was the original plan. But… I don’t know. I like younger kids. And if I’m going to leave football behind, I just want to leave it behind.”
Simon smiled wryly. “Wish I could have had that attitude about leaving the team. Actually, that’s what inspired this project I’m doing.”
“What is the project?”
He turned the laptop toward me. The title page read,Life After Sports: A program for student athletes.
“That looks interesting. What’s in this program?”
“Well, I’m still developing it. Mainly it’s a program to encourage athletes to think harder about life after sports. Not just a fallback career. Most of us have that, right? But more about creating a life that’s well-rounded, you know? Like…forming an identity beyond your position on your team. Making friends outside your sport. Finding interests. All those voids that suddenly appear when you have to leave your team or graduate to new things.”
My heart clenched, thinking of how Simon must have hurt when he was cut from the team. How lost he must have felt to create an entire program to address that loss.
“That’s a great idea,” I said.
He shook his head. “I’m struggling with it a little. Is it realistic? I’m not sure I would have listened, even though I knew football wasn’t forever, you know? I loved it, and I was determined to keep loving it and worry about the aftermath later.”
I nodded. “I think…it’s about planting a seed, you know? Getting them to start thinking about it. It won’t work for everyone, but then, what does?”
“Good point.” Simon sighed. “I don’t know. I just felt so unprepared to have my world cut out from under me.”
I reached across the table, clasping his hand briefly. I wasn’t sure I even cared if someone saw. “I get it. Moving on is hard for a lot of people.”
“Well, with any luck, you won’t have to,” he said with a wistful smile. “If anyone at Hayworth can get drafted or signed, it’s you.”
