I shake my head. “At this school. Why I was denied a scholarship and acceptance, then suddenly handed one a year later with everything magically covered—meals, housing, tuition. Why your father swept my incident under the rug.”
Alex’s silence is louder than the café’s espresso machine.
I lean in. “I’m grateful for the scholarship, I am. But it feels like there is something more to it, and everyone I’ve asked in administration brushes it off. You don’t find that suspicious?”
His jaw works, like he’s chewing glass. “You shouldn’t question my father.”
I sit back. “Yeah, well, I shouldn’t be your guys’ personal punching bag either, but here we are.”
He shrugs again, playing with the wrapping of a straw. “I’m sure you’re just overthinking it. The school has lots of programs to help those who qualify. Just take advantage of it.”
I watch him. That answer is too polished, rehearsed.
“Right,” I murmur.
He grabs his notebook, flips it open, ready to move on. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. We’ve got pregame in two hours.”
I want to push, force him to tell me what he knows, make him promise to help. But it’s the dreaded look at the mention of his father that makes me think twice about it. There’s something there, something I’ve seen before. He hates that man. I know because it’s the same reaction I’ve had myself. So instead, I put my focus on the textbook, hesitantly accepting that I’m going to have to do this on my own.
Eventually, the hour winds down, and once we’re done, I pack up fast. The café isn’t as busy now as it was when I first arrived, so the noise has dissipated some. As I shove the rest of my things into my bag, I make eye contact with Alex.
He stands, reaching for his backpack and unzipping it. I try not to watch as he reaches inside for something.
“I’m thinking our next session should be Wednesday. I only have one class, so I’ll be pretty wide open that day.” The moment I finish that statement I regret it. I snap straight, staring at him with wide eyes.
Alex tips his head to look at me, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Shut up,” I quip before he can get a word out.
“I didn’t even say anything.” He pulls something from his bag and tosses it in my direction.
I catch it. “You were thinking it.”
“Damn, a guy can’t even have thoughts.” He smiles while licking his lips.
“About me. No.” I unfold the fabric. “What’s this?”
“Don’t worry about the ruined team shirt from last night. You have to wear a jersey anyway.” He rezips his bag then flings it over his shoulder. “And I’ll see about getting you some extra ones, so Coach won’t be on your ass.”
I stare at the jersey, confusion pulling at my features. “But does it have to be your jersey?”
He shrugs. “It’s regulation, but—” He yanks it back. “If you want to go out there in that bleached shirt, be my gu—”
“Fine.” I snatch it back.
Alex chuckles. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to campus.”
He steps around me, deliberately brushing against me. I hesitate for a moment, not sure if I should decline or follow behind him. Quickly, I check the time. The next bus isn’t for another twenty minutes, and the ride is double that considering all the stops.
I choose the latter.
“I’m coming.”
Alex spins and walks backward, the cocky grin back on his mug. “You did last—”
“Shut up!”
He holds the door open for me and I try not to meet his eyes.God, he’s infuriating.We step out into the cool air, and I stop to take in a breath.
