of players turn pro. Playing for a professional women’s team has been my goal since I was a little girl. With scouts in the stands, there’s a lot riding on today’s game. As soon as that thought enters my mind, I shove it away. If I focus on it, I’ll end up psyching myself out. And I can’t allow the pressure to get to me.
“You’ll be great,” Dad says, voice filled with conviction as if sensing my sudden burst of anxiety.
“Thanks.” I’ve done everything possible to prepare myself for this evening’s match. Now I just have to get out there and let instinct take over. “Why did you want to see me?”
“Right!” He drops his arms and sits forward, closing the distance between us as he sifts through a small mountain of paper before opening up a manilla folder and glancing at the top sheet. “I know you’ve got a lot going on this semester, but would you have time to work with one of the players?”
“For which class?” In the three years I’ve been at Western, I’ve tutored half a dozen guys. I’m a four-point student, academics have always come easy to me.
“Statistics.”
A prickle of unease flares to life in the pit of my belly as I push away from the door and slide onto the chair parked in front of his desk before dropping my backpack to the linoleum tiled floor.
Before I can respond, he quickly adds, “It would only be a couple hours a week for about a month or so. Just enough time to make sure he is over the hump. And you’re so good at math...”
Dad wouldn’t ask unless it was absolutely necessary. While I don’t have a ton of extra time, carving out a few hours a week shouldn’t be a hassle. “Sure, I can probably work something out.”
“Great!” A relieved smile breaks out across his face. “You know what it’s like trying to find someone who is actually interested in tutoring rather than talking football.”
It’s not the talking football that turns out to be the problem. It’s the girls who are interested in hooking up with a football player and then trying to turn it into a bona fide relationship. It’s an occupational hazard that comes with being an athlete at a school obsessed with everything football. And that certainly won’t help with eligibility requirements.
I grab my backpack from the floor and rise to my feet, ready to take off.
“Hey,” he says, “I really enjoyed meeting Jackson last night.”
I narrow my eyes and wonder if the name slip is purposeful. “It’s Justin.”
“Right.” He points a finger at me. “Justin. Anyway, I really enjoyed meeting him. Seemed like a nice guy. You should bring him around more often.”
“Really?” My forehead furrows. This...isn’t what I was expecting to hear from him. Normally, when I introduce Dad to a potential boyfriend, he nitpicks, finding something not to like about the guy.
I’m not going to lie, I’m a little thrown off by his easy-going demeanor.
With a grin, he lounges back in his chair again. “Yup. I really enjoyed our chat in the study.”
“You did?” With a frown, I drop my chin and search his face for any indication that he’s messing with me.
“Sure.” Innocence enters his dark eyes. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Hmmm. Something feels off about this conversation. “I don’t know. Normally you don’t like the guys I introduce you to.” Which is precisely why I don’t do it unless I’m certain they’ll be around long-term. Most of the time, it’s not worth the hassle.
Last night’s dinner went well enough. On the surface, everyone got along fine. It was the undercurrents that almost suffocated me. Specifically, with Rowan. Even though I refused to make eye contact after what transpired in the kitchen, I could feel his gaze crawling over me the entire evening. It was a relief when eight o’clock rolled around, and we got the hell out of there.
“Will Jasper be at the game tonight?”
“Justin,” I correct automatically, blinking out of those thoughts and shifting my weight. “I don’t think so. He has a mandatory study hall for baseball.”
Dad shrugs before adding pleasantly, “That’s too bad. But don’t worry, Rowan and I will be there to cheer you on. On the off-chance Justin shows up, he can sit with us, and we can pick up where we left off last night.”
All right, it’s official. The man is seriously frightening me. As I stare, trying to figure out what game he’s playing at, a grin stretches across his