False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,76

understand the question. “It’s your name on the paper, so don’t you want it to be good?”

I really didn’t see why it mattered as long as I got a passing grade. The professor would read it once, and then it would wind up in the trash. “I’m fine with decent.”

She pressed her fingertips to her closed eyelids. “I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to do your best.”

“What if that is my best?”

“It’s not.”

I sat up. “It might be.”

She shook her head. “But it’s not.”

“It is.” I didn’t know why I was turning this into a pissing match. I knew as well as she did that I’d put in the minimum effort. But again, I didn’t see why it mattered.

Letting the paper fall to the table, she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know why you shortchange yourself.”

“It’s not like I’m planning to go to grad school.” Or even graduate with my undergrad. But if she hadn’t figured that out by now, I wasn’t going to tell her. At best, I was destined for a decade of playing pro football. At worst, I would wind up pushing paper for Fleck Holdings. Either way, my path wasn’t an intellectual one. I wasn’t like her.

“So what?” she asked. “Don’t you want to do well for the sake of doing well?”

If there was no return on investment, then it was a waste of energy. I would get absolutely nothing out of putting more time into the assignment. But I was fighting a losing battle because Becca would never understand that. School was easy for her. When we’d been in high school, she and I had never had a single class together because she’d taken all advanced courses. She could’ve gotten honor roll with her eyes closed, but I’d had to work hard to get grades high enough to satisfy VVU’s GPA requirement for incoming athletes.

I stood and walked toward the kitchen. “I do what I need to do,” I called over my shoulder. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and popped the top.

Becca followed me into the kitchen. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you,” she said quietly.

“It kind of feels that way.”

“Well, I’m not.”

I ran my hands over my head. “Look, I’m never going to be as smart and accomplished as you.” In a lot of ways that mattered, I simply wasn’t in Becca’s league, and I never would be.

She frowned. “First of all, I don’t care about your accomplishments. I care about you. But second of all, you’re plenty accomplished. How many guys do you think get a shot at playing pro football? Or even college football?”

I didn’t answer, figuring they were rhetorical questions. I understood what she was saying, but being good at football wasn’t in the same league as being a biomedical engineer. Hell, in just a few years, she could develop a mechanical heart or some shit. And what would I be doing? If I was lucky, I would be playing with a damn football. My potential paled in comparison to hers.

I was crazy in love with her, but I would never be enough for her, not even close. But I wasn’t ready for her to realize that yet.

“Just forget about it,” I muttered. “I’ll redo the stupid paper.”

“You never used to get bent out of shape when I called you on stuff like this. Why is it bothering you now?”

I rolled my shoulders. “It’s not.”

“Bullshit.” She looked at me expectantly, waiting for an explanation for why I’d been such a pain in the ass about the assignment. I didn’t have a good excuse, especially since she was the one doing me a favor by helping me.

I gathered her in my arms. “I’m sorry. I had a rough practice, and I guess it’s still getting to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because it’s a lie. Practice had been fine. But I couldn’t explain the truth. She’d always pushed me to be better, and in the past, I’d given a half-assed attempt at meeting her expectations. If I succeeded, great. If I didn’t, no big loss. But now I had a hell of a lot to lose.

I could lose her.

I loved this girl so much, it twisted at my insides. I’d spent years screwing around because I couldn’t even admit to myself how I felt about her. Now fear gripped me every day that this would be the day she finally realized I wasn’t enough for her.

***

BECCA’S PARENTS WERE driving up the morning of