Fuck that and fuck Aivery.
Aivery lifted her sunglasses dramatically, exposing her beautiful face, and scoffed, “Don’t you dare. The last thing I’m thinking about now is an engagement! Your ass won’t even be graduating next month.”
She pushed her sunglasses back over her eyes and strutted away, tucking her hands in her pockets. Beautiful and fucking dramatic.
Chapter Seventeen
-THEN-
“Un-fucking-believable!” Lenny, my sports Academic Liaison, paced back and forth alongside the conference table. “It makes no fucking sense at all,” he mumbled, eyes to the floor, fists on his waist beneath his suit jacket.
My athletic director, Byron Jones, sat to the left of me, glasses off as he chewed on the end of one of its arms. “I did not see this coming,” he mumbled.
And I felt like shit. Yes, they were making a big deal out of nothing, but I knew I created this “nothing.”
“I’m sorry,” I expressed for the millionth time.
“Don’t, Spence!” Lenny curled over the conference room table, fists holding him up. “I know you’re a sharp kid—”
“The brightest of my tenure,” Jones added.
“I also know you think you’re smarter than everyone else.”
“And what that mean?”
“It means a simple ass term paper is not an obstacle preventing you from completing your academic career. Keep in mind, this degree is a segue into your professional League career! Your fucking dreams, and this path comes to a halt because of a damn paper you’ve had all semester to complete?” He stood erect and shook his head. “No. This can’t be right.”
“Where did we drop the ball, son?” Jones asked in earnest. He’d always been an upstanding guy. It fucked with me to feel his disappointment. “We’ve met regularly to be sure you were armed with all the resources needed to get you to the end of the Blakewood tunnel.”
“I know, sir.” I gave a nod of humility. “It’s just been one hell of a semester with stunning responsibilities. I’ve done more traveling for BSU obligations outside of playing. Like you warned earlier on, I shouldn’t have taken on the academic aide course—”
“Bullshit, Spence!” Lenny shouted. “You know how this works, and so do we. You think you’re the only high profiled athlete we’ve rallied behind here? It’s our specialty at BSU. It’s what sets us apart. I’ve worked with kids that barely had a quarter of your academic capacity. It’s mightily insulting that you sit here and only say sorry—”
He was interrupted by Corey, Jones’ assistant, scurrying into the room.
“What’s the word?” Jones asked.
“Vestor’s office is only offering two days to submit the paper. At best, he’ll receive an incomplete for the course this semester until it’s completed!” he panted, out of breath.
“Damn it!” Jones grunted and my pulse hiked.
“Look,” I offered. “This isn’t even a setback, to be real. It’s a minor dilemma that can be resolved rather simply.”
“And how’s that, son? You’re supposed to start training for the Combine in a few weeks!” Jones’ hands were outstretched.
“And I can still do that.”
“How?” Lenny, more animated than I’d ever seen him, shouted.
“I can come back to BSU in the spring and—” Lenny sucked in a breath of amazed disgust. “bring trainers out this way to get ready.”
After long seconds of silence, Jones admitted, “That may be plausible.”
Lenny snatched his body away from the table and paced to the other side of the room. “This is bullshit.”
“I think if this can be worked out with a training company, it could work,” Jones shared. “Is it ideal, no. There’s a considerable cost associated with getting that resource out here.”
“It’ll work. I’ll pay for it. And keep in mind, I’ve done less than four years at this institution, and opted to get my degree when most athletes with League ambition leave before graduating. If I were an average Joe, this wouldn’t be a big deal. You’d be rallying behind him to make it work.”
“Your pompous ass don’t get it,” Lenny spat through gritted teeth. The average Joe can’t cavalierly dismiss his plans to graduate early with a degree from one of the most prestigious academic institutions on this damn planet, just to say I can afford it. The average Joe ain’t got it like that. The average Joe can’t perform as well as you academically either. The average Joe would be fucked over by the simplest setback on the road to the League.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, be careful, Spence. Your privilege card is being touted here.”
I’d never been spoken to with the level of disdain that Lenny was giving off now.