Denying the Bad Boy(7)

Oh, who was she kidding to even play with an idea like that? Forcing everything that was Alex out of her head, she made herself relax and finally felt herself drift to sleep.

****

“Sheppard, I want to talk to you.” Coach Marx called out from across the field. Alex tipped his chin in acknowledgment and walked over to the bench to grab one of the towels sitting in a stack on the metal seat. He took off his jersey and equipment and wiped the sweat from his face and chest. Then he tossed the small strip of cloth over his shoulder and headed to where Coach stood talking with a few of his teammates.

“Damn, Sheppard, even hung over like a motherfucker you played like a beast.” Harley, one of the linebackers and a mean asshole on the field, slapped Alex on the back and made his way with the other players to the locker room.

“You wanted to talk to me?” He stopped in front of Coach Marx and breathed out roughly, trying to calm his respirations from the grueling exercises.

“You came to practice hung over again.” It wasn’t a question. Coach didn’t want any of the players to drink, because he said it polluted their bodies and made them sluggish on the field the next day, but he couldn’t stop them from having a good time, and they just had to deal with the shitty feeling the next day. Alex knew in order to succeed in this sport, this career, he needed to kept to a strict regime and diet, but the truth was that as much as Alex loved playing football it obviously wasn’t in his heart if he couldn’t just stop the fucking partying and focus.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Alex didn’t offer any more of an explanation. He respected the hell out of Coach Marx, but even nauseous like a bitch after drinking all night he kicked ass on the field. “I mean, we still played good today.” It hadn’t just been Alex that was hung over. There had been a handful of other players that had dragged their sorry asses out of bed and busted their balls in practice.

Coach ran his hand over his buzzed dark hair. Alex knew something was wrong for him to look almost hesitant. “Listen, I’ve seen that you’re slacking in your studies, and have fallen under the grade point average that is required for you to play with the team.”

Shit.

Alex knew he was slacking in some of his classes, but the last time he checked he was passing them all, at least he thought he was. Clearly he had been wrong. Although this was his fourth and final year at OSU before he could graduate with a Bachelor’s degree in Sports Therapy, he had only been thinking about exactly that: this was his final year. He hadn’t even realized he had been fucking up so much that he was now at risk of getting kicked off of the team. “Shit.”

“Listen, this is totally out of my hands. You know the rules the university requires for all players, and the fact you need to keep your grade point average at an optimal level in order to stay on the team.” Coach started pacing in front of him. “Alex, I have to put you on probation until you bring your average up.”

Anger built deep inside of Alex even though this was totally his doing.

“Are you fucking serious?” His voice was raised, but Coach didn’t even blink at his outburst. “You want to put me on probation?” Alex was now the one pacing. Football had been his life for as long as he could remember, and in one fucking semester he had fucked it all up. Yeah, he had read the rules which he had to follow if he wanted to stay on the team, but fuck he hadn’t actually thought this would happen. “How the fuck did this happen?” It was an empty question, more for himself than anything else, but he said it regardless.

“Alex, this isn’t anyone’s doing but yours. You know how strict the University is about this, and it pains me to have to suspend you seeing as you’re one hell of a player, but my hands are tied on this. All I can say is get your average up at midterms, and then when that happens I’ll throw you back in the games. Go talk to the academic advisor and see what you need to do, and maybe get someone to tutor your ass so you can get your grade point average up.” Coach slapped him on the back and walked away, cutting off any further conversation, and not bothering to hide his disappointment. Fuck, he was disappointed in himself.

Well, motherfucking shit.

****

“What time are you coming in?” Mary held her cell phone between her shoulder and ear and adjusted her shoulder bag. She kept her exasperated sigh to herself at hearing Margo’s clipped words. Her sister’s normally snotty attitude was to the nth degree with her upcoming wedding.

“Margo, that’s like a month away.” Her sister didn’t bother hiding her frustrated sigh.