Page 38 of The Game Plan

I have to focus on myself: passing this statistics class; maintaining my athletic eligibility; making things right with my sorority sisters; and maybe making things right with Tamar, too.

I don’t want to throw away my future, my season. I don’t want to fail this class. I don’t want to end my commitment to the sorority, and I don’t want to let down my teammates. I’m being pulled in a million different directions, all at once.

One thing at a time. One step at a time.

Tonight we have our meeting, so I’ll show up and wear my Kappa letters and try to convince the girls that I want to be there. Because I do. Really, I do. I just don’t always know the best way to express that.

I’m not used to being the girl with a big group of friends. Teammates, yeah. Acquaintances, sure. Friends?

Tamar is my best friend. Lex and Aleesha are great. And then there’s my sisters. Kiersten and Haleigh are amazing. Sarita and Jun are so cool. I’ve found myself a nice group of kind, supportive friends and built myself a community of people.

I should be leaning on my friends. I want to hang out with them. They’re trying their best. It’s just that their best isn’t quite good enough.

Wendy looks me up and down and turns away, her expression carefully blank as she gavels the meeting to order. Haleigh gives me a small smile.

Sisterhood is new and confusing. At home I only have my one brother, and he doesn’t like me half the time. Now I have this new community of women. We all have different backgrounds, different majors, different interests. The one thing we all have in common is that we choose to be here, choose to be part of the sisterhood. Nobody is required to be here, even the legacies like me. We all have to choose this of our own volition.

And most of the time… well, I like the events we go to, even if the never-ending frat parties get a little boring. We do philanthropy in the community. We celebrate women and lift each other up. And, yes, there’s a lot of social events. We have girls’ night basically every night. There’s always a sister around if I want to watch a movie or go out to the bar or need a good cheering up. I know that all I have to do is say the word, and I’d have half a dozen girls at my side.

Sisterhood is about more than fraternity parties. I hope that five or ten or fifteen years down the line, I can count on these girls to still be there for me. Because I’d be there for them. They’re my friends, and that means something to me.

Glancing across the room to where Tamar is sitting with Sarita and Jun, a glimmer of sadness takes over. She’s supposed to be my best friend, my ride or die. I hate that she showed her ass and showed me who she really is. Am I the person I thought I was? I really don’t know. Mostly I don’t know how to get over my disappointment that she’s not the person I thought she was.

I can’t talk to her about what happens if I don’t pass this class. She wouldn’t understand. Her parents are supporting her; she only got a partial athletic scholarship, so her parents somehow found a way to make it work. She’s lucky.I’mlucky. Just not lucky enough.

Chapter fourteen

Sam

AsmuchasI’dlike to stay with my sisters and have dinner, tonight I’ve got plans—with Miles. Just the thought of his endearing smile and the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world have me giddy. He treats me like a human being, like I’m capable. He doesn’t coddle me. He doesn’t treat me like a child. We’re equals, even if he’s the one teaching me.

And it doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous and kind and so charming. He’s a genuinely good guy. I didn’t think they still existed. Nice guys typically aren’t as nice as they’d like everyone to believe. I don’t think Miles has a single mean bone in his body. It’s not in his nature to be cruel. He’s kind and polite and caring, if a bit distant. I don’t doubt his intentions like I might with other guys.

Most of the time, I’m surrounded by estrogen. My teammates are all female, and my sorority sisters are all female. Occasionally we hang out with our brother fraternity, so I might spend time with Jake and his brothers, or we go to a fraternity party on a Saturday night, and I’m exposed to other people there. For the most part, my circle is female. I don’t really hang out with athletes from other sports—they’re too busy, and I’m too busy. We might throw a low key party one night after practice, but it doesn’t devolve into a rager like some other houses do.

I wish I had more male friends. It’s hard. They tend to want things to be different than what they are: I’m looking for friendship, and they want a friend that will warm their bed for a few hours. I’m not opposed to a good few hours’ romp beneath the sheets, but for the most part, I try to keep my friends separate from mymale friends.

With Miles, though… I wouldn’t be opposed if he wanted something to happen. I doubt he does, though. I basically threw myself at him last week and he barely even blinked. He must not be interested in pursuing a relationship right now, because he could have any girl in school he wanted. I’ve never seen him so much as talk to another person who isn’t on the football team. He keeps to himself. I can respect that. He isn’t distracted by interpersonal problems: he’s focused on himself, on his performance and improving. We should all be so focused. It would stop a lot of the unnecessary drama.

He’s already waiting in our study room by the time I get there. His dark hair is pushed back from his face, like he’s been running his hands through the short strands. I want to be the one that rakes my hands through his hair. I want to touch him, and not only in a sexual way. I want to discover who he is, what makes him tick, what makes him the way that he is. I want to know all about him.

But he holds me at arm’s length.

“Sorry I’m late,” I announce as I walk in. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

He checks his watch and mumbles something. It doesn’t sound accusatory; it almost sounds apologetic, which is ridiculous, because I’m the one that’s late.

Shucking my rain jacket, I settle into the seat across from him. His body language is making it clear that he doesn’t want me to sit close, and it’s not like we’re in a playing footsie beneath the table kind of friendship. I like him, Ilikehim, but I’m not blind to his complete apathy for me as anything other than a study buddy.

We study together. We aren’t friends. Maybe one day we can be, but we’re not there yet.

He opens his textbook, and so I do the same, trying to understand yesterday’s lecture. Professor Cassidy might be a brilliant mathematician, but as a lecturer, he leaves a little to be desired. Okay, a lot to be desired. His classes jump too much for me to follow, and he goes off on tangents that don’t seem to have anything to do with statistics until finally he pronounces the problem solved—without any explanation of how he got there.

When my brain has ceased the ability to learn new information, I push my books away. “How do you feel about dinner? Or a snack?”

Miles swallows carefully. “You want to eat with me?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re here, I’m hungry.” I shrug. It’s not rocket science.

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