“I got an email from one of your professors.”
“Okay.” I gulp down a cold breath of air. That’s never a good way to start a conversation. “Which one?”
“Astronomy. They’re worried you’re falling behind.”
“I promise, I’m trying, Coach.”
“It’s only a few weeks into the semester. Don’t dig yourself a hole you can’t get out of. You know my policy.”
“I know. I’ll make sure I don’t.”
“Good. Now get out of here.”
Fuck. I head down the tunnel to the locker room, my mood souring fast. School has never come easy to me. And if my grades start dropping, I’ll lose my starting position. It’s Coach’s way of making sure we don’t slack off in our academics. It’s never been an issue before, but with only two semesters between me and graduating, a lot could happen. Like scouts not seeing me play.
The mood in the locker room is boisterous as music blares from a portable speaker. Red carpeting lines the circular locker room floor. The Sand Sharks mascot sits in the center of the floor—something no one ever steps on unless you want the team to lose.
Wooden lockers line the walls with lights to show off everyone’s name. It’s the nicest locker room I’ve ever been in.
Grabbing my towel from my locker, I strip out of my gear and head toward the showers. The last thing I wantedwas to start this year off on the wrong foot. It seems no matter what I do, it’s not good enough.
Hockey comes easy to me. It’s everything else that I struggle with. I put off the classes I didn’t want to take until now, figuring it might be easier. Of course I got the hardest professors who don’t take shit from anyone.
And now it might royally fuck me over.
Taking a quick shower, I wrap the towel around my waist and head back into the locker room.
“You up for going out tonight, Troy?”
“Can’t. I have my calc test to study for tomorrow and an astronomy paper to write.”
“Already? It’s only the third week of school.” Marcus eyes me like he can’t believe it.
“Shit. You have Professor Smith, don’t you? He’s a dick,” Isaac chirps from down the bench.
I nod my head. “He really is.”
“Dude, Gladiator, he has it out for hockey players.”
“Not just hockey players, all athletes,” Marcus quips. “He hates any student athlete.”
“Great,” I moan.
It’s going to be a long semester if these first few weeks are anything to go by. Math has always been my worst subject in school. No matter how many tutors I’ve gotten, it never makes sense. I can do just enough to skate by, but I don’t know with this professor.
And if I want to stay on the team and not risk my chances of going pro, I’m going to need to buckle down and study every chance I get.
“You sure you don’t want to go out? I’m sure there’ll be some chicks to pick up.” Randy waggles his eyebrows at me. Dude has never met a puck bunny he turns down. He gets around more than any guy on the team.
“Can you show them a little more respect?” I roll my eyes at him. Jesus, sometimes these guys can be assholes.
“You’re really telling me you’ll pass up a chance for some ass tonight to study?”
He says it like it’s the worst thing in the world.
“Yes. Because if I fail calc, then I can’t play.” I pull my T-shirt on over my head. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Grabbing my backpack, I head out of the locker room and into the bright, San Diego afternoon.
