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wrong. Despite my better advice, you and Kelly have been bumping uglies this whole semester. You also prepared a class presentation that was probably really good, but not worthy of an A+. Am I on the right track so far?"

I nod, not meeting his eye. He inhales through his nose. "So then I have to ask why is this pansy from a fancy Ivy League school giving an A+ to my quarterback. He's just here for a few months. He's under no pressure from our boosters. Hell, the dean wasn't even sure who I was talking about when I asked if someone was telling teachers to pass my boys in the spring semester. Oh yes. I made a lot of calls about this, sweetie pie. And then I get to thinking maybe, just maybe, Talon Kelly saw something he wasn't supposed to see."

I start pulling at my cuticles, fiddling with the seam in my jeans. I feel myself flushing. Coach sets a hand on my shoulder and I look up into his face. "Serena Sanders, I have known you since the day you were conceived. You tell me right now if that professor did something to you that he ought not have done."

Once again, Coach's speech unleashes a hurricane inside me. I start sobbing and he pulls me in for a hug. "It was nothing," I whisper. "He made a pass at me, but Talon saw and he thought…" I choke down my tears and look up at Coach Burns. "He thinks I was just using him to p-p-practice so I could seduce Professor J-j-jacobs!!!"

"Come on here, Sanders." He hugs me into his chest and I smell the bubblegum and Old Spice aftershave that reminds me so much of my father. I sob all the tears I'd held back over spring break, until Coach pats my hair and says, "I'm going to take care of this."

My eyes are wild as I glare up into his face. "No. Please. I just want to forget this happened."

He shakes his head at me. "No can do, kiddo. You don't stay in business coaching D-1 football by covering up scandal. This is not my first rodeo with sexual harassment. Now, what grade do you think you and Talon should have earned based on the presentation you gave. Tell me honest."

I sigh, remembering how I flubbed through the first half of my portion. "B or B+," I sigh, and Coach nods, jotting a note. He hops up and walks around to sit in his evidently-fart-free chair. "Now let's talk about Saturday, shall we?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

On game day, I wake up at 6 and slip into my official SCU staff polo. I smile at my reflection as I slide the lanyard around my neck with my stadium credentials. I duck into Alissa's room to make sure she has the pack of tickets for Erin and Sara and Mindy. CJ arranged for Alissa to sit with his parents, but I scored some 50-yard-line seats for the girls.

Coach had promised that our Jacobs Resolution, as he called it, would be as painless as possible. He made a call to the dean suggesting what had potentially happened without spelling it out. He told the dean I was not interested in pressing charges, but that the SCU Otters need to keep everything documented to avoid penalties against the team. We were assured that Jacobs would not be returning to SCU. Talon's and my grades were adjusted to B+, but neither of us had to return to class for the remainder of the semester.

Then I had sat with Coach for hours watching tape and talking to him about what I'd observed about the different players all fall semester. When he met with the stat team and the coaching staff prior to the game, he asked me to lead off the meeting discussion. I blushed, looking at the shocked face of my former advisor, who sat slack-jawed as I presented my thoughts on different player combinations.

I watch the stadium fill with fans from my place in the booth, high above the 50-yard line. My heart aches with yearning as I see Talon warming up down below, encouraging the sophomore quarterback who will be taking his place next year, regardless of what happens with the draft. I hate that I have no idea how he did at the NFL combine, that I have no idea where he's predicted to go in the draft in a few weeks.

I shake myself out of my thoughts and get to work. Suddenly, the world melts away and all that remains are the players, the game, and the numbers. The numbers that never lie. Each spiral pass that Talon throws into CJ's out-stretched hands feels inevitable, and I glow with happiness when Coach catches my eye and winks. CJ is in top form, with no hint at all of the injury that had him limping in an immobilizing brace just months earlier.

Hi is a warrior on the field, directing the other players with grace. I can see how he sees the space, reads the defense. He runs as easily as he passes the ball, once even ducking under the diving tackle attempt of a rookie who forgot that nobody is supposed to tackle the QB in the Green and Gray game. The freshman glances off Talon's sturdy body and he soars like the eagle he's named after, gaining 20 yards before being driven out of bounds.

As the game clock winds down, I decide I can't be up in the stats booth a minute longer. I have to find him. I am tired of going through my days without him. I miss the smell of him, the protective warmth of his embrace. I miss joking with him and talking about my dreams and hopes for the future. I'm running toward the locker room mentally cataloguing the reasons I miss him when I crash

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