“No.”God no.“I was looking for one of my students.” He nodded like that made more sense. “Three years here and I got my first athlete,” I added, keeping my tone neutral.
David snorted. “And you thought you’d find them insciences?”
Biggest asshole.
“You sound like you’re talking from experience.” I hoped my smile didn’t look too fake. “Ever had to tutor an athlete, like a football player, before?”
He gave me a dry smile. “Football players? Once. Don’t expect them to suddenly impress you.” He checked his watch again, and I knew my time was limited.
“I should maybe lower my expectations then,” I said, biting my lip as I pretended to look concerned.
David shrugged. “Do that,” he said with a nod. “You’ll do your job, write up your notes, no one wants them filed, and the rest, well...” He waved it off.
“The rest?” I hoped I looked appropriately baffled and intrigued for him to part with hissuperiorknowledge.
David looked at his watch again and shouldered his satchel. “Look, Savannah, let’s just say the athletic department has its own way of making sure players stay eligible.”
My pulse jumped. “What does that mean?”
He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “It means you won’t need to lose sleep over whether your guy or girl passes or fails. Don’t waste energy thinking otherwise.”
“So why am I bothering?” I heard the bite in my tone and hoped David didn’t.
He didn’t. Instead, he gave me the same patronizing look he reserved for his student. “You don’tbotherwith them, Savannah. They’re agift. Your academic record looks good, and they pass. It’s a win-win. I need to go. Great to catch up.”
He left, but his words didn’t. They unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. I hadn’t wanted my suspicions confirmed, and now I didn’t know what to do with the information.
What game had I been dragged into without even knowing it?
Chapter 24
Savannah
I didn’t plan on going to my father’s office. My feet carried me there anyway.
The admin building was quiet, sunlight slanting through the tall windows, the halls lined with framed photographs of Wrighton’s proudest moments. Championship teams. Donors shaking hands with university presidents. My father, front and center in half of them, stern and polished, the picture of authority.
I pushed open his door without knocking. He was at his desk, tie loosened, glasses perched low on his nose as he read a stack of papers. He looked up, surprised.
“Savannah. Did you forget how to knock?” He frowned as he looked me over. “Everything alright?”
I closed the door behind me. “Depends.”
He sat back, eyebrows arched. “Depends on what?”
I crossed the office, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just had a call with the Academic Association. I had to send my students’ progress reports. Dante’s wouldn’t load.”
“Maybe a glitch,” he offered.
“Mmhmm, not a glitch. I spoke with the lady on the phone, and she cleared itallup for me. But you know, itwasso unbelievable, I thoughtthatcannot be right, I must have misunderstood. So, I spoke with others. And...” My throat worked as I forced the words out. “And they basically told me it doesn’t matter what I do regarding tutoring athletes. That the athletic department has itsownway of making sure certain players pass.”
A shadow flickered in his eyes.
“Savannah—”
“Youknew,” I cut in. My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me I’m imagining this, that I misheard, that it’s just bitter grad students making up stories.”
His expression didn’t change. That told me more than any words could.
