Here goes nothing.
“I’m changing my major.” I swallow, pushing the anxiety down. “I want to work as a sports agent.”
“Where is this coming from?” my mother demands, voice high and tight. “I thought you wanted to be a sports commentator?”
The old me would’ve wavered, but I’m not that girl anymore.
Or, at least, I don’t want to be.
“That was Papá’s dream, not mine. It just took me some time to realize it.”
After a lifetime of being judged and critiqued in the gym, I don’t want a career in the spotlight. One where my employment is contingent on looking and behaving a certain way. I want to work on the other side of the sport, helping women like Brooke maximize their potential and their earnings. I want to be someone who stands for other women.
“I don’t understand,” my father says. “Why do you want to work as an agent?”
It’s a fair question.
“My friend Brooke recently had a bad experience negotiating an endorsement deal, and it made me realize how little support student athletes have when it comes to protecting their interests in the new world of name, image, likeness. I want to help. To make a difference.” I smile, though they can’t see it. “After all, I was raised by a man who negotiates contracts for a living. Some of that business savvy was bound to rub off on me.”
I hope.
He huffs a laugh and I can practically see him shaking his head on the other end of the line. “What about your schooling? Will you graduate on time?”
I bite the inside of my lip, but I can’t stall forever. “I may need an extra semester.”
Or two.
“I see.” He sighs. “Your mother and I won’t be able to help with the extra schooling. Not with your sister’s training expenses…”
“I get it.” I’d expected as much, but hearing it still sucks because my gymnastics scholarship—and my eligibility—expires after four years. “I’ll take out loans if I have to.”
Which means I really need to get my ass in gear and start studying for finals, because my grades are going to be more important than ever.
45
PARKER
“Get focusedor get off the bench.” Vaughn grabs the bar, immediately relieving the strain on my chest and biceps as he slides the barbell into the upright with a clang. “We can’t afford any injuries right now.”
He’s right. I’m distracted. Have been all week. Ever since my fight with Sutton.
If Vaughn wasn’t such an attentive spotter, I’d have probably been crushed by three hundred pounds of steel.
“Sorry.” I sit up on the bench and use the hem of my t-shirt to wipe the sweat from my brow. “My mind wandered.”
“It’s been doing that a lot lately.” He narrows his eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about the Peach Bowl.”
It’s true enough. With our win over Michigan Saturday night, we claimed the Big Ten Championship and earned a spot in the CFP semi-finals. We’ll be facing Clemson on New Year’s Eve and there’s no doubt it’ll be a tough game.
“I’m not talking about football. I’m talking about the fact that you haven’t gone sneaking next door since you got back from Pittsburgh.”
I freeze, but Vaughn’s gaze is unflinching. The big man just stares me down, waiting for a response.
Fucking fuck.
“Noticed that, did you?”
