The Hard Way: a Sports Romance Read online

  “Well, yeah. What does that matter?”

  “It matters a great deal, Mr. Hall. It shows me that you are unrepentant for disgracing Dr. Higgins’s honor dinner. You are only apologizing now because you have been told that is what we want to hear. Moreover, you think an apology will save you from being expelled from the football program.”

  “I guess.” When Dr. McKensie shook his head disapprovingly, I knew I had to start backpedaling. “Look, I am sorry, totally and completely sorry. It was a very stupid and immature thing for me to do, an act of alcohol-induced stupidity. If I had an issue with my grade, I should have made an appointment with Dr. Higgins to discuss it.”

  Bobbing his head, Dr. McKensie replied, “Yes, Cade. That is exactly what you should have done.”

  I threw a satisfied smile over at my father. I hoped he was glad I had managed to repeat the story we had gone over. He only gave me an exasperated sigh. Okay, so apparently he was less than thrilled with my performance. I don’t know why I was surprised; there was seriously no pleasing my father. He was Mr. Perfect, and he expected his wife to be perfect along with his two children. They had managed to program the perfection into my older sister, but sadly, I hadn’t quite mastered it. Even though I was a starting running back at Tech that usually made all As, I was still a fuck-up.

  “So you do see that I’m sorry, right?” I questioned.

  Dr. McKensie gave the same exasperated sigh my father had a moment before. “While you see the error of your ways, your actions still tarnished our university. Our football players are supposed to be leaders on and off the field, but regardless of the negative reflection on our program, it is you I am most concerned about.” Dr. McKensie finally eased down into the leatherback chair behind him. “You have great promise, Cade.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, tell that to Dr. Higgins over there who gave me the first C of my life.”

  Dr. Higgins shook his head. “I don’t ‘give’ grades, Mr. Hall. Students earn their grades, and while it might be hard for your inflated ego to grasp, you did, indeed, earn a C.”

  My fists clenched in my lap, and I fought the urge to leap out of my chair and across the table to smack the smug look off his face. “Whatever,” I mumbled.

  “Do you have any idea how blessed you are?” Dr. McKensie questioned. At first, his question took me off guard, and I was unable to reply. Then when I truly thought about what he was saying, I rolled my eyes and refused to look at him.

  “You shouldn’t respond to that statement so flippantly, but your reaction reiterates the sentiment that you haven’t dealt with much of the world outside your social circle. You haven’t had to see how harsh and devastating the world can be. You are unable to be grateful for the fact that besides being born into privilege, you have been gifted with both mental and physical abilities. While you excel at academics and football, you are morally and ethically bankrupt.”

  “Enough!” my father bellowed. He leaned forward in his chair and jabbed a finger at Dr. McKensie. “I will not sit by and let you continue making my son your moral whipping boy. Get to the point and tell him his punishment.”

  Dr. McKensie stared my father down for a moment before exhaling. “Fine.” He then turned his attention back to me. “Cade, are you familiar at all with The Ark?”

  Before I could make some smartass remark about only knowing Noah’s Ark, my father anticipated me. He gave a quick jerk of his head before throwing me a death glare. “No sir, I’m not.”

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with Atlanta’s hometown sports hero, Amad Carlson?”

  Just the mention of that name piqued my interest, and I leaned forward in my chair. “Amad Carlson who played for the Atlanta Falcons and shattered NFL records in rushing touchdowns?”

  “Yes, that Amad Carlson. Ten years ago, he built a center where at-risk teenagers could go after school and during the summers. He dubbed it The Ark because he wanted a place for teens to find shelter from the dangers of the streets like drugs and gang violence.”

  I nodded; I vaguely remembered reading an article in Sports Illustrated about Amad’s charity work. Although nowadays his multimillion dollar contract with the Atlanta Falcons meant he lived in a gated mansion off posh West Paces Ferry Rd, he hadn’t forgotten his teenage years when he and his mother lived in some of the local homeless shelters. He was a hell of a stand-up guy to invest millions into the place that had once been a YMCA.

  Dr. McKensie drew in a breath before speaking. “Since your father confirmed that you don’t have a summer job, we have found you one at The Ark. You will be working forty-hour weeks for the entirety of the summer. You won’t have a set schedule so it won’t interfere with your practice schedule.”

  I held my breath, waiting for the punchline. “Excuse me, did you just say my punishment is a job?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hall. I did.”

  “But I’ve never had a job before.”

  Dr. McKensie gave me a tight smile. “As the old adage goes, there’s a first time for everything.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “So this job is at a homeless shelter?”

  “It’s not a homeless shelter, Mr. Hall. It is a center for at-risk youth,” Dr. McKensie corrected.

  Part of me was slightly intrigued about working at Amad’s shelter. I mean, maybe I could meet him, and even though I wasn’t planning on trying to get drafted to the NFL, he might like me enough to put in a good word for me or some shit. Medical school would always be there, but I wouldn’t always have the opportunity to warm the Falcons’ bench for a chunk of cash.

  The other part of me didn’t like the idea of being committed to forty hours a week during my vacation time. I had big plans of sleeping in after all-night parties and going back home on the weekends. During our practice break, I had planned to go down to Tybee Island to my parents’ beach house to chill out for a week or two.

  “Yeah, I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. Volunteering just isn’t my thing, and I have a pretty busy summer ahead of me. You’ll just have to find me something else to do.”

  Dr. McKensie narrowed his eyes at me. “Either you take the punishment handed to you, or you will no longer play football for our program.”

  A shudder went through me at Dr. McKensie’s words. I hadn’t expected that hardcore response at all. In all these years, there hadn’t been a situation I couldn’t talk myself out of. Since I couldn’t seem to get the job done, I glanced over at my father. “Dad?” I questioned.

  My father turned to me. Instead of resignation, there was irritation in them. “There’s nothing I can do, Cade. It’s working at The Ark or no football.”

  Whoa. Not even my father could get me out of this one. Oh yeah, I was screwed. My fists clenched in my lap as I inwardly shouted, Motherfucker! Gah, I was so pissed that these bastards had me backed into a corner. Although part of me wanted to tell them where they could shove their offer, I bit my tongue. Football meant too much to me.

  I gritted my teeth. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “I’m glad you decided to see it our way.”

  What I didn’t know at the time was how that moment was about to change everything about me.

  AVERY

  “Miss P, who do you think is hotter: Zayn from One Direction or Drake?”

  I glanced up to see four pairs of staring intently at me. While the question was a welcome change from the ones my professors had thrown at me the past semester in my pre-law classes at Emory University, it was still a loaded one. I mean, to twelve-year-old girls, there’s nothing more serious than your celebrity crush, so it wasn’t something I could just blow off without hurting their feelings. I also teetered around ticking one of them off by choosing the wrong guy.

  “Hmm, that’s a tough one. I mean, they’re both pretty hot in different ways,” I replied diplomatically.

  Serena flipped her intricately braided cornrows over her shoulder. “Zayn’s too much of a pretty boy for me,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Ren
ee cocked her head at Serena. “What’s wrong with pretty boys?”

  “I don’t want some guy who takes longer to get ready than me, puttin’ all kinds a product and shit in his hair.”

  I stifled my laugh at her comment while also not chiding her about cursing. At the recreation center—or The Ark, as it was called—we overlooked a lot of what usually wouldn’t have flown in school. We tried to cultivate an environment of brutal realness that fostered trust. Kids were more likely to tell you about a potentially dangerous situation if they felt they could do it without repercussions.

  I had started working at The Ark my freshman year at Emory as part of a service scholarship I’d won. While I might have been attending one of the best and most expensive universities in the country, I still had some common ground with the kids. My mom had been seventeen when she’d had me, and besides seeing a few pictures, I’d never met my father.

  Instead of the poverty of the inner city, my mom and I had lived with my grandparents on a farm in rural Floyd County, Georgia. Because of what the farm produced, I’d thankfully never known the pangs of hunger like most of the kids at The Ark. Within the walls of our multigenerational household, I’d been blessed with constant love and affection, which was also something a lot of our kids deeply lacked.

  I used the foundation of love and affection I’d been given back home to interact with the kids at The Ark. I never sat around on my phone or hung around talking to the other college-aged workers. Instead, I immersed myself in the kids’ worlds. It was why I found myself sitting at the arts and crafts table when I had absolutely no artistic ability whatsoever. While Serena, Renee, and the other girls sketched or painted, I worked on coloring a picture from my Harry Potter adult coloring book.

  “Miss P, do you have a boyfriend?” Serena suddenly asked.

  Talk about loaded questions. I mean, the immediate answer was no. I’d been single since back in March when I’d broken up with my boyfriend of two years. Hal was a great guy, but regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel for him what he felt for me. Yeah, it was your classic cliché of It’s not you, it’s me, but it was the truth. I wished I could say I missed him, but the truth was I didn’t. It was my past yet again screwing things up for me in the present.

  After coloring in Hermione’s hair, I finally replied, “Nope. I don’t.”

  “But why not?”

  As I forced myself to look into Serena’s curious eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. Although I was sure she and the other girls would have enjoyed the juicy story, I didn’t want to shatter what innocence they had left when it came to love. Although life hadn’t dealt them a fair hand, it hadn’t completely altered their fairytale view of love and significant others. I didn’t want to burst their bubble before they had the chance to learn for themselves. After all, that was part of what being a teenager was all about—although in hindsight, I wished I’d listened more to my mother’s “men are pigs” and “love stinks” tirades.

  Just as I opened my mouth to try to answer her, I was interrupted by raised voices across the room.

  “Girl, if I catch yo’ skanky ass lookin’ at Antoine one more time, I will fuck you up! You hear me?”

  The words, along with the I ain’t messin’ around tone, foreshadowed trouble. I threw a fleeting glance at the two fourteen-year-old girls standing in a challenging stance before I rose out of my chair. “Hang tight, girls,” I said to the group before I hustled across the room.

  When I got to them, I placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Jasmine, Arianna, you two need to take a deep breath and step back.”

  Jasmine flung my hand off her shoulder. She transferred her death glare from Arianna to me. “But Miss P, this skank-ass bitch was just making eyes at Antoine.”

  Arianna’s nostrils flared as she jabbed a finger in Jasmine’s face. “Who you callin’ a skank-ass bitch, ho?”

  “Enough,” I growled as I wedged myself between them. I tossed a warning glance between the two teenagers. “Whatever—or I guess I should say whoever you’re arguing about isn’t worth it. What’s the rule again?”

  The girls mirrored each other by crossing their arms over their chests and rolling their eyes to the ceiling. Now it was my turn to take a deep breath while simultaneously weighing the best argument to diffuse the situation. I mean, I wasn’t in my third year of pre-law at Emory for nothing.

  “Let me take a moment to repeat the rule for you: any center member involved in a physical altercation faces immediate suspension with the possibility of permanent expulsion.” When they both turned their heads to me with WTF expressions, I broke down the inflated language by saying, “You throw punches and you’re both stuck at the shelter all day for the rest of the summer—maybe even forever.”

  The rigidity of their bodies loosened slightly as I could almost see the wheels in their heads turning. While The Ark wasn’t a country club, it certainly beat the shelter.

  When Jasmine took a step back, I exhaled in relief. After flinging her hair over shoulder, she said, “Guess when you have a hot man, bitches gonna be looking.”

  Arianna rolled her eyes. “Get it straight. I wasn’t looking at your skeezy boyfriend.”

  At Jasmine’s fist clenching, I wagged a finger at the two. “Don’t make me give you solitary time.”

  Solitary was something I had come up with when I’d started at The Ark. It was a way to give kids time to cool off as well as working on their writing and communication skills, which most of them desperately needed. While it might’ve sounded like some harsh, prison-type torture, solitary at The Ark basically consisted of sitting in the director’s office while writing a summary of what you did wrong. You also had to write an apology letter to the person or persons you’d had a conflict with. It wasn’t so much that they were scared of Tamar, the director—she was a mother figure to most of the kids there—but more about the being alone and having to actually express their emotions without yelling or punching. I was going for the whole ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ kinda thing.

  Jasmine’s lip curled in disgust as she spit out, “Sorry.”

  I motioned for Arianna. “Your turn.”

  “I’m sorry,” she spat.

  “Good. Now go do five laps around the track.”

  Both their eyes widened in horror. “But Ms. P!” they both protested in unison.

  “Then what about watching something together on TV?”

  “What’s the catch?” Jasmine questioned curiously.

  “There’s no catch. You two just end up spending some quality time together without fighting.” When they both continued giving me skeptical looks, I added, “Most of all, it keeps you away from the boys in the gym.”

  “Fine. The last thing I wanna do is have Antoine see me all hot and sweaty from being outside,” Jasmine replied.

  “Good. Then go enjoy the TV in the cool.”

  Although the girls didn’t hug and make extra nice like in some sugary sitcom, they did at least sit down together to watch some trash TV on E! For the dysfunctional life at The Ark, you could consider it a happy ending.

  I’d barely gotten seated when Renee asked, “Are you gonna answer my question now, Miss P?”

  “Um, yeah. Sure,” I replied.

  “Avery, can I see you for a second?” my boss, Tamar Deegan, called from her office doorway.

  A chorus of “ooh” rang around me as I thanked my lucky stars for being saved yet again. “Uh oh, Miss P. You’s in trouble,” Serena chided.

  “She’s not in trouble,” Tamar countered with a grin.

  I wagged a finger playfully at Serena. “Ha. Guess she told you.”

  “Whatever,” Serena grumbled as she went back to her coloring.

  After following Tamar down the hallway, I slipped inside her lavender-infused smelling office. She was a firm believer in the power of essential oils, and she had the calming lavender running through the diffuser from morning until night.

  As the do
or closed behind us, I jumped. For a moment, my stomach coiled with anxiety like it was back in the day and I’d just been called into the principal’s office. While I might’ve been called into the principal’s office now and then, I’d never actually been in trouble; it was usually to tell me about an award I’d won.

  I licked my lips. “You weren’t just putting the kids off, were you? I’m not really in trouble, am I?” I questioned, my voice wavering with the trepidation I felt.

  Tamar smiled at me, her pearly white teeth contrasting against her caramel-colored skin. “Honestly, Avery, I can’t imagine there ever being a time when you would be in trouble with me.”

  The breath I’d been holding whooshed out in a relieved rush. “Really?”

  “Of course. I can’t even begin to imagine this program running without you. Why I even get a little anxious when I think about you graduating and leaving us.”

  “Oh, I see.” Warmth rushed to my cheeks under her praise, and I ducked my head. The truth was I couldn’t imagine my life without The Ark either. It wasn’t just about the fact that the program was tied to one of the scholarships that paid a chunk of my hefty tuition and without it I probably couldn’t attend the extremely expensive pre-law program at Emory University—not to mention the monthly stipend I received helped pay for my apartment—but it was also about feeling I was making a difference in the world through the lives of the kids.

  I had chosen law as my major not because I would get a fat paycheck, but so I could have a career that would allow me to stand up for those without a voice. Growing up relatively poor, I had seen too many times how people in power and those with money took advantage of those without it.

  I met Tamar’s gaze and smiled. “Thank you for the compliments. It means so much.”

  “I meant every word.” She shifted some papers on her desk before picking up a manila folder. She tapped it with one of her French-manicured nails before speaking. “The reason I brought you in here deals with a community service request I received a week ago.”