Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,12

of my time and attention. If I wasn’t on the field, working on my throws from home or in the cages, practicing my swing, I was in the gym to make sure my body stayed healthy or in yoga classes to keep my knees strong and limber from the inside out. Baseball was my passion and the only thing I saw in my future. It felt like there was little room for anything else during each day, especially school and all of its separate demands.

The ironic part was that unless I passed all of my classes, I couldn’t even play in the first place. No one cared that Algebra had nothing to do with baseball. All they cared about was that I played for a top-notch university and in a program that required athletes to take and pass classes each semester with a two-point-five grade point average or above. Which was how I’d found myself in my current predicament.

“Can I ask something?” I asked quietly.

Coach didn’t seem to be in a chatty mood.

“What is it?” He looked up at me, the large bags under his eyes telling me that he hadn’t been sleeping much.

He looked stressed, and I knew that my math problem had most likely added to it.

“I need a guy tutor. It can’t be a girl.” I was about to launch into some long-winded explanation about why I couldn’t have a female tutor when Coach simply agreed with me.

“I know that, Carter.”

“Cool. Thanks. Is that all, Coach?” I asked, hesitating to stand until he excused me.

“Yeah. But keep me updated if you aren’t going to pass. Any trouble or if the tutor isn’t working out, I need to know in enough time to turn it around. You hear me?”

“Of course.”

“Get out,” he said, and an uncomfortable laugh escaped me as I exited his office and prayed like hell I’d get a tutor who could actually help me.

Scanning my schedule one last time, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Every other class I had this semester wasn’t going to be an issue. For whatever reason, I’d been gifted with the ability to bullshit with the best of them. When it came to things like writing papers, public speaking, or anything else related to my speech communications major, I handled it like a pro.

But when it came to math, nothing seemed to stick. It was like my brain couldn’t make sense of whatever was needed to learn how it worked. It was hard. And I didn’t understand it. Whose idea was it to make letters stand for numbers anyway?

Walking into study hall with the rest of the team, I made my way over to one of the private rooms and walked inside to see my athletic counselor sitting there, waiting for me. Next to him was a girl dressed in all black who was too damn attractive for her own good—and probably mine. I hated that I’d even noticed.

“Chance, meet your tutor, Danika Marchetti.”

I frowned because I could not have a female tutor and Coach knew it. My counselor knew it. Hell, everyone fucking knew it. How was I supposed to trust that this girl genuinely gave a shit about helping me pass instead of just trying to get in my pants? I knew it sounded like an arrogant thing to say, but it happened all the time. And not just to me. Girls volunteered to tutor athletes, but they weren’t really there to help the guys at all. They used it as their chance to get close. It was an opportunity too good for them to pass up. They wanted a “ring by spring.” Swear to God. I’d heard them say that phrase to each other on more than one occasion. It was even a hashtag on social media.

Girls like that scared the hell out of me.

“Danika,” I repeated her name as I stared at her, trying to figure her out just by looking.

The all-black attire seemed to suit her.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other or something?” Danika asked, her attitude and New York accent permeating throughout the small space.

Her voice hit me like a slap to the face. It was her. The girl from the party. Little Miss I Have a Boyfriend.

“No. You’re just unexpected, is all.” I tried to come off uninterested, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit intrigued.

And her name, it fit her the same way her outfit did. It sounded like fire and strength, and that was