Billionaire Flawed 2(110)

“Reynolds. Christine Reynolds.”

He pulled a folder from the cabinet and pulled a few papers from it.

“Have a look for yourself; it shouldn’t be hard to figure out why you have a ‘B.'”

I took the papers from him and started to read. All the categories had numbers and checks except for one; participation.

“Is this saying that I don’t participate in class?”

“That’s to say that you never engage your peers. It’s a class. I may be your teacher, but you’re actively choosing to play by yourself. You seem to go out of your way to avoid the other students.”

I scoffed. “I participate in the class activities. Isn’t that enough?”

He stood himself up and came over and leaned on the desk in front of me, snatching the papers out of my hands.

“School is about more than accomplishing the task at hand. I like to think that my class also teaches students how to handle situations in life that may be overwhelming. You have to know when to ask for help and know how to help others. It’s part of being human. Self-reliance is a great asset, but being a team player is what most sports and athletics are about.”

I sighed and stood up.

“So you’re saying all I have to do is engage with the other students, and I’ll get an ‘A’?”

“Yep, that’s all I’m saying.”

I gathered my things, including my athletic journal.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” I said as I made my way toward the door.

He smiled and nodded.

As I grasped the handle, the door tore open, pulling me along with it and causing me to collide with the person on the other side.

My face was jarred so hard that my glasses flew from my face and fell to the floor. The world became blurry as I did my best to focus my eyes to make sense of what I was seeing and possibly find my glasses.

“Excuse me,” I said.

I could feel my glasses being thrust into my hand, which I gladly took and replaced. In my panic to find my glasses I hadn’t realized the person whom I had struck; it was Hollis.

“Hollis?” I questioned, meekly.

He didn’t even say anything, just pushed past me into the room and shook the coach’s hand.

“How’s the arm?” said the coach.

“It’s doing well. I iced it for a while, and it hasn’t swelled much.”

“Good, good. We got a career making game coming up, and I want you ready for it.”

Hollis looked pleased.

“Alright, I’ll just be going now,” I said.

Neither of them acknowledged me, but I couldn’t help but take a quick look at our local football star now that he was so close.

I felt so tiny by comparison; he was more than a foot taller than I was, and I was almost 5’7”, which according to statistics is above average for a woman. Strong, sinewy muscle ran up and down his arms and back, pushing through his shirt in all the right places. I admit it, I was swooning.

I felt a bit feverish as my pulse quickened a bit. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, and I had a feeling that I should lie down. I left the room, closing the door quietly behind me as the two bonded and talked about the upcoming game.

My thoughts were hard to sway from the thought of Hollis’ physique, but the anxiety over my grade was helping. If he wanted a girl who would participate in class, then that’s exactly what I would do.



2.

The morning was chilly before class; so I thought it best to bundle up. I had always liked running; it was the easiest way to settle my mind before starting my day. Even so, I hated having to wear contacts to enjoy a calming run. But, some things are necessary evils, so I pushed the horrendous things to my eyes.

It showed that I liked to run, and I received compliments all the time about my skinny arms and toned legs. It’s nice to feel like you’re doing something right, and compliments are a great measure. It was like getting an ‘A’ in personal health.

I popped my headphones in my ear and grabbed my room keys. It was nice living alone, fewer people to deal with, less drama to get involved in, and more time for me to get work done.

I lived near the track, which was actually a premeditated measure on my part as I knew I would be jogging almost daily. As I stepped out onto the street, the cool air struck me hard. It stung my nostrils and burned my lungs as I breathed.

A light fog had accrued over the night, instilling a silence on the block. Statistically speaking I had less a chance of being attacked in the morning during daylight, but that did little to dissuade me from looking over my shoulder every few steps.

Across the street, the track was mostly empty, save for a few people that I didn’t recognize throwing footballs around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them in the morning. Dedicated players practiced anytime they could.