Fuck, I’d forgotten. I never forgot.See! This is what he did to me!
Quickly, I pulled out my notebook and sat right there in the middle of my shed floor, hurriedly typing up all the notes for each of my students. Thankfully, I was experienced at this, and it didn’t take long; I knew the format.
I uploaded the first two through the portal, but Dante’s resisted. “Of course you’d be difficult,” I grumbled at the document, ensuring it was saved in the right format.
The error message popped back up.
“Oh for God’s sake.” I hit the number for the liaison office.
“Hi there, it’s Savannah Cole, I’m trying to upload my students’ tutoring progress reports, but the site’s glitching on my end. Is there a known problem?”
“Hi, Savannah, nothing wrong on our end that I know of. Do you have them saved in the right format?”
I bit back the snarl. “Yup.” I forced out a laugh. “I double-checked and everything. Two have gone through, but one’s resisting. Okay, I’ll try later.”
“Well, that’s strange,” the woman on the phone answered. “For two to go through and one not.”
Yes, I know, that’s why I’m calling.
“Which student are you having difficulty with?”
Oh, how long have you got?
“Dante Spence.” Had my voice sounded as shaky to her as it did to me?
She laughed. “Oh, that’s fine,” she told me cheerfully. “You don’t need to worry about his. Coach Sutherland has already assured us that Mr. Spence’s academic eligibility will remain secure.”
“Excuse me?”
She cleared her throat. “You don’t need to upload that progress report, these guys usually get what they need to pass.”
What was she saying? It didn’t matter if he showed up for sessions? Was the work I logged just a formality? Or did I not have to log itat all? Was my role to polish the image of their star quarterback the same way I polished steel — buff out the imperfections until the shine blinded everyone else.
“Anything else I can help you with today?”
“Um, nope,” I managed, though the words tasted like rust. “All good.”
“Excellent. Thank you for calling.”
The line clicked — dead.
I set the phone down, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My stomach felt queasy. Her words lingered —these guys usually get what they need to pass.
I had a horrible thought: had he known all along? Is that why he was so laid back? I’d told him he could pass this class without me, and he said he knew that. I’d thought it was arrogance. I’d accused him of being too lazy to do the work. I’d thought it wasjust the way he was.
Or was it because heknewthey’d pass him anyway?
These guys usually get what they need to pass.
Was having sex with me part of that? Or was I an added perk?
“Am I really such a fool?” I asked the empty shed. “For a jock?” But the name-calling didn’t help my anger. It just made me angry with myself. Some of these guys had a better work ethic than most; just because they were jocks didn’t mean they were dumb.
Dante was most definitely not dumb. But was he a conniving, backstabbing asshole?
Fuck, I didn’t know.
I’d never tutored anyone in the athletic program before. Dad didn’t like me ‘wasting my time’ on them. Was this why? Did he know?
