“What kind of service?” the doctor asked at the same time, and it was she whom as I saw she had made an entirely wrong assumption.
“I draw.” I hastily pulled out my phone and opened my photo gallery. “I make posters and flyers for his band.”
“Oh.” She looked entirely too relieved. “You’re very talented,” she said as she passed me the phone back.
“So, you’re stupid after all,” Coach Bowers commented.
I grimaced as I looked at him. “Guess so,” I admitted. “My mom definitely called me that several times when she got hold of me.”
“What did Dean Porter say?” Gray asked me. It was the first time he had spoken to me.
“Um, I have to stop, obviously. I’m on probation so I have to behave even when I want to smack someone,” I said as I glared at him, and he actually grinned. “And he’s making me spend Saturday mornings teaching art to underprivileged kids aspenance.” I sat on my hands to stop from fidgeting. “‘Making me’ sounds harsh; it’s been fun so far.”
“And the incident with my quarterback?” Coach asked me.
“I was really drunk,” I admitted. “I don’t remember meeting him, I don’t remember being with him, but Idoremember the hangover.”
The coach studied me, and then he stood. “We’ve been looking into the drug that was administered to Jett. I need to go coach my team. Doctor Sanchez wishes to talk you through everything. It’s entirely possible you were also under the influence.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Jett’s hard look made me stop. “Okay.”
“Before I leave, I have one more question for Ms. Bryant.”
“Okay,” I said as I swallowed.
“Should it be found that you were also drugged, will you be seeking damages against my quarterback?”
My eyes widened, and I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“The team?”
“No.”
“The school?”
“No.”
He considered me, and I realized this is why he was so sought after as a coach. It was as if he could pull the truth from me. I saw him nod once.
“I hope you were only drunk, Ava,” Coach said quietly. “Thank you for your time today.”
He left without a backward glance, and then Gray and Ash followed him. Jett hesitated, his eyes on mine.
“Santo! Move it!” Coach’s voice bellowed down the hall, and Jett rolled his eyes before he left the office, closing the door behind me.
I turned back to the doctor. “He’s intense.”
“He’s my dad.”
Oh. “Um . . .”
She smiled at me. “Let’s get this over with. Do you want someone here with you?”
“No,” I answered, and then I looked at her. “Do I need someone?”
“This is unofficial,” she admitted. “You’re here under your own choice. You can answer or you can decline, it’s entirely your call.”
I rested my elbows on the desk. “I have nothing to hide,” I told her honestly.
