by Maya Hughes
I made it to my second class of the day with seconds to spare and grabbed a seat at the back, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Without meaning to, I found myself checking out the room and watching the door, ready to bolt if Mak showed her face.
No way was I going to sit through an entire semester with her trying to roast me into kindling in one-hour chunks. My stomach threatened a revolt at least a couple times throughout our review of the syllabus and the professor’s expectations. I sank in my seat with my hat pulled down low, riding out the rest of the class as the professor droned on. This was important stuff, but being present was as good as it was going to get right then. I’d go to the professor’s office hours to make sure he didn’t think I was going to slack during the semester.
The midday sun didn’t send me scurrying back into the shadows like a vampire, so my booze-filled night was finally wearing off. My drunk legs were washed away with a burger at lunch, so the queasiness was gone.
My last class wasn’t until almost five, which meant I had time to kill. I needed to burn the last of this hangover out of my system. Pushing through the first set of double doors of the gym, I was hit by the familiar smell of sweat and metal that filled the air. The worries faded away. The only place I could completely tune out the rest of the world was out on the ice, but the gym was a close second.
Heath burst through the doors, a wide smile on his face as always, even if he was drenched in sweat.
“Your mattress and sheets and the rest of your stuff were in a charred pile when you left this morning, right?”
My stomach dropped as he slapped me on the back, throwing his head back, laughing.
“Don’t screw with me like that.”
“Relax. That’s what you get for leaving me to shepherd your leftovers out in the morning. You’ll be happy to know the history major left without much of a fuss but did leave her number behind.”
I wouldn’t be using it. There was too much going on in my life, and I didn’t need the distraction of female attention right now.
“I’ll catch you back at the house. When’s your last class?” I shifted my bag on my shoulder.
“It’s at five, but I have to go to the greenhouse to check on a few things.”
“Why weren’t you a kinesiology major like every other athlete in this school?”
“It’s those sexy buds. It’s what gets me hard.” He grabbed his junk and stuck out his tongue, walking backward to the doors leading outside. I flipped him the bird and pushed through the doors to the gym, coming face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see.
“Could have warned me,’ I mumbled under my breath, glancing back over my shoulder to see Heath waving through the small window in the gym door. Preston dropped his free weights, the clank echoing in the sprawling room, and made a beeline straight for me.
I dropped my bag on the floor, took off my hat and braced myself for the impending reaming he’d had been gearing up for all day.
“I know. Before you start, I know. Not the best way to start off the semester. I needed to blow off some steam and things got a little out of hand last night.”
“Out of hand? Do you want to stay off the team? Do you want to wash out after making it this far?”
I ran my hands over my face and into my hair, threading my fingers behind my head.
“What do you want me to say? I fucked up. It’s what I do, right?”
He dropped onto the weight bench beside me.
“You have a shot, man. You’re going to the pros one way or another—I’ve seen you out on the ice—but you didn’t have to come to college. You could have gone to the development teams and the minors or gone straight there. You have this chance to get your degree and play the game you love. You’re in the home stretch.”
No one knew that getting drafted right away had been my plan. It had been a good plan until life in its infinite wisdom felt I needed a kick to the teeth that left me bruised and bloodied. Archer had been there almost every day, and every day I’d played like shit. I was lucky they’d kept me on this long.
Throw in my mom’s face when she found out I’d made it into college and it made that small kernel of shame grow a bit bigger. If college was where I had to be, I was doing this for her, so she could see me walk across that graduation stage and finally stop working so hard.
“It won’t happen again. I only missed one class, and the most important one isn’t until tonight.”
“Who do you have?” He handed me a set of forty-pound dumbbells.
“Alcott.” I lifted them in bicep curls letting the muscle strain wash away the last of my hangover.
He let out a low whistle. “Be careful. That guy has a serious reputation when it comes to athletes. He will not take any shit, especially if he knows you failed that class before.”
Exactly the kind of person I needed in control of my ability to play during the season.
“Noted. You going first?” I gestured to the weight bench with the hundreds of pounds of weights hanging above it.
“Hell no, Heath left without putting them back. I’d like to have use of my arms for the next few weeks, but be my guest. I’ll see how your arms are after this workout, and maybe I’ll let you spot me.” He grinned and rested his hands on the metal bar.
“You’re not even going to bench this? Why the hell would I?”
“Got to keep you in tip-top shape, right? Plus, I got here early and I’m almost finished with my workout. You have some serious mistakes to burn off. Maybe I should keep tiring your ass out with these unsanctioned workouts and you’ll be so exhausted you won’t even be able to think about partying.”
“I can take anything you can dish out, Cap.” I matched his smile and slid under the bench. I might not have been practicing with the guys, but at least Preston had my back. As much as he bothered the shit out of me and felt more like a nagging mom sometimes, at least I knew I was still part of the team.
What felt like twelve hours later, I finally tapped out. I glanced up at the clock; I’d barely made it seventy minutes under Preston’s torture circuit. I never thought I’d long for Coach’s sessions, but if this was how Preston was going to run things while I was benched, I needed to get back on the team yesterday. Everything ached as I headed into the shower.
There was enough time to grab some more food and check out when my next assignments were due before the last class. Sophomore Seminar. My first time around, I’d gotten back from the summer hockey session and my first run-in with Archer.
His voice came out deep and rough behind me as I left the locker room after showering up. “You think because you’ve got my blood pumping through your veins that you deserve a spot on this team?”
My head snapped up and my hands clenched into fists. “Does this mean you’re acknowledging me as your kid?”
He made a gruff sound and glared at me.
“Why are you even here? Why do you care? You haven’t cared for nineteen years; why show up here after every practice?” The words I’d gone over time and time again in my head disappeared the minute I came face-to-face with him. He would always lurk in the box or in the stands while I practiced with the team and leave the second my skates left the ice.
“You think you can do half what I did on this team? You think anyone will remember your name after you blow it?”
The urge to wipe his smug smile off his face nearly overpowered me. “If I do, what the hell does it have to do with you? You’re nothing to me. You’re no one.” My heart hammered in my chest. I could fight with the best of them out on the ice, but when it came to Archer, the sperm donor who’d made my mom cry, it was like my body didn’t want to cooperate.
“You sure as hell seem to care when you’re always looking for me in the stands. You care, son.”
“Don’t ever fucking call me ‘son’ again.” I clenched my jaw because he was right. And I hated that I even looked, that I even cared, but him calling me son… I was seconds away from slamming my fist into his face.
“You’re right. A real son of mine wouldn’t be out there fucking up his chance at the pros.”
I took a step toward him, ready to lay him out.
One of the coaches popped his head out of the office and called to me. “Declan. Can we talk to you a minute? Hey, Travis, what are you doing here?”
My breath came out heavy, almost like a pant, as I stood toe to toe with my father. My hands clenched so tight my fingers ached.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he said, staring straight at me before turning on his smug smile I’d seen a hundred times and walking off with his hands shoved in his pockets, whistling away.
Tears I never wanted to cry prickled the backs of my eyes. I vibrated with anger, blinking them back. I’d never let him see me cry. Never shed a damn tear for him.
So, I was making it to the pros if it killed me, starting with my next class. Whatever it took. I was going to do whatever it took and then wipe that smug grin off his face one way or another.
6
Makenna
My feet ached as I climbed out of bed, turning off my alarm. I slid on my sneakers, put my hair up into a ponytail. My hair was that weird in between where it wasn’t quite red or blonde given the lighting. Checking out the window, I grabbed my phone and earbuds and headed out as the sun rose over the horizon. A run was the perfect way to start the day and get my head on straight.
Transferring as a senior had been a monumentally stupid move. I knew it when I did it, but there were some times when a stupid move made sense. At least in my head. What it didn’t do was make graduating on time as easy as it should be. While I had more than enough credits from Stanford, there were certain required courses I needed to take at UPhil, even if I was way past them.
Plus, the BA/MD program meant I was taking some medical school classes since I’d been provisionally accepted. I’d gotten into a similar program back at Stanford. It meant it was only supposed to take me six years to graduate med school by combining some of the course work.
I’d managed to take care of a bunch over the summer, but there was one I had to take on campus. A special course offered only there. Sophomore Seminar. Talk about embarrassing. Being in a class full of sophomores as a senior wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, but I’d made my bed; I had to lie in it. I’d done everything in my power, bringing in every syllabus from my old courses to show that they were similar and I’d covered similar topics. The deans wouldn’t budge.
The circuit around campus took me past a few bleary-eyed people stumbling down the paths that crisscrossed the quad. The warm summer air breezed past me. I wove my way through campus and looked forward to the changing seasons. The vibrant colors of the fall leaves were something I’d missed in California.
Freshly cut grass squished under my sneakers as I took a shortcut back to the apartment. Birds chirped in the morning sky, and it was moments like this that were so perfect it made it hard to breathe.
Moments where I looked around at the flowers and squirrels running up trees and it was like the world stopped moving for a few seconds. The tears always came in those moments. I wiped them away with the back of my hand and picked up the pace past a few guys in rumpled clothes and girls carrying their shoes. Even on a school night, most of the campus had only come back the night before, so there were plenty of walk-of-shamers.
I got back to the apartment, and my roommates were still asleep. Tiptoeing into the kitchen, I made my egg-white omelet and fruit smoothie. There were a few emails from professors with some beginning of the semester notes. I scrolled through my phone, triple checked my schedule, and finished my food. Washing and drying my dishes, I tucked them back into the cabinets and went to my room.
This apartment had been a find. Each room had its own bathroom, which was pretty much unheard of for anywhere a college student would stay. It had been three single efficiency apartments that they combined into one giant one. Tracy and Fiona had needed a third, and I didn’t seem like too much of a psycho, in their words, so I’d gotten the spot.
We were still in the I’m-trying-to-figure-out-if-you’re-going-to-go-apeshit-and-smother-me-with-a-pillow-in-my-sleep mode, but so far so good. I took a shower, put on the clothes I’d laid out the night before and put on a little bit of makeup. My phone buzzed, and I checked the time. Perfect.
I triple checked my books, folders, and binders for each class and slid my backpack on. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I ran my hands over my skirt and pulled my ponytail from under my backpack strap. It was going to be a good day. Making this move had been the right choice. Fine, my parents were traveling across country in an RV and not close by if something happened to Dad, but that was fine. Everything would be fine. I was fine.
My morning classes all went as planned. Senior seminars and labs I needed to meet my graduation requirements were spread throughout the day. The professors had been interested in the work I’d done at Stanford, and there wasn’t anything on the syllabi that freaked me out.
After grabbing some lunch in one of the dining halls, where I went over my calendar and put in timelines for completing my projects and lab work, I met up with Tracy, who was still wearing her sunglasses.
“He got everyone to give me a standing ovation when I rolled into class.” She sipped out of her thermos, which I was only half sure wasn’t filled with booze. “He said if I could make it to class looking like I did, there was no excuse for any of them. I mean, it’s not that obvious I was super drunk this morning, is it?” She peered at me over her sunglasses.
“Your dress is inside out.” I took a sip of my water, trying my best to hold back my laugh.
She glanced down and threw her hands up in defeat. “Damn it. Not again.”
Tracy tagged along as I ran a few errands on campus. Somehow her class schedule didn’t seem nearly as packed as mine. Stopping by the library before class, I requested a few books I couldn’t find online that would help with some of my research during the semester. I also found out when I’d be able to grab a study room. The only wild card in my schedule was Sophomore Seminar.
I figured it would be no problem, but Tracy decided to fill me in. We strolled past people spread out on the lawn on towels even though the sun was setting. A few guys threw Frisbees back and forth without their shirts on, soaking up the last bits of summer we had left.
“Alcott is a notorious hard-ass. He’s so pissed off all the time. He was a history PhD student for like ten years and figured once he graduated, they would let him leave the Sophomore Seminar behind. No such luck, so everyone is stuck with his perpetual anger and grouchiness.” Tracy’s warning came out in hushed tones. The way she spoke, it was like he was a feared sea creature put on the earth to sink a few sophomore GPAs like a kraken from the deep.
“I’m made for those types of professors. I’ve never had a professor or a teacher I couldn’t work with. It won’t be a problem.” I hadn’t maintained a 3.97 GPA by letting a few testy professors get in my way.
“He doesn’t accept late work or excuses for anything,” she said with her voice low.
I leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s okay because I never turn anything in late.” And I hadn’t. Freshman year in California all on my own, I’d gotten the flu. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d started bleeding from my eyes. Everything hurt, I could barely keep my eyes open but I managed to turn in my final papers before I drove home for the semester break.
“I’m trying to warn you. Be careful with this guy.”
“Thanks for the warning, and I’ll make sure I finish all his stuff extra early.”
I walked into the room ten minutes before class began. It was usually a pretty good buffer, but the room was packed. My stomach dropped, and I triple checked the time. No, I was definitely early. It looked like I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten the memo on Alcott.
The small room was stuffed with desks and fresh-faced sophomores who looked like they were about to be lowered into a vat of acid. His reputation most
definitely preceded him. There were only two empty desks available, smack-dab front and center in the room.
The door swung open behind me. Before I could even turn around, something heavy slammed into my back. Tripping over my own feet, I grabbed on to one of the desks to steady myself as I was nearly bowled over by someone pushing me out of the way like I wasn’t even there.
“Take your seats,” came the gruff voice from the professor. My heart in my throat, I slid into the first empty desk and tried to settle myself. Almost taking a header in front of a class full of sophomores—or anyone, for that matter—wasn’t exactly my idea of a fun way to start the semester.
I ran my sweaty palms over my skirt, smoothing it under the desk. Sufficiently de-sweatified, I took out my notepad as the professor hefted his massive bag up onto his desk and took out thick packets of paper and slammed them down on the desk with an ominous thud.
Get yourself together! Things were fine. This was fine.
Until they weren’t fine. Alcott finished his paper stacking and stood, staring down the whole class, ready to deliver what I could only imagine would be a soul-crushing speech, when the door swung open.
Like I’d conjured my worst nightmare to go along with the professor who already made me hate this class, the last person I ever wanted to be stuck in a class with swanned into the room smack-dab on the hour.
Declan strode into my final class of the day like he walked into every room, chest first. Even into a Sophomore Seminar where he should be hiding his face, he strode in like he owned the place. My spine went stock straight, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose as his gaze swept over the class and landed on me.
The one empty seat in the closet-sized classroom was beside me. Of course it was. He stopped and pivoted like he was thinking of walking right back out before a look of resignation settled over his face. It was probably the same one on mine.