Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I headed to the private dining area where the gathering was going to be held, seeing plenty of alumni filing inside to take their seats and prepare for a luncheon full of ego-filled speeches about how great everyone was doing post-graduation. I supposed it was good that they were putting money back into the university.
It didn’t take long for me to find my father seated toward the front, already talking with Coach Jacobson. I breathed in through my nose to prepare myself before walking over to them, reaching out to shake Coach Jacobson’s hand.
“Nice to see you, Coach. Dad,” I said as I greeted them before sitting down.
“Peter was telling me you’re heading to a tournament soon,” my father stated as he angled his body to face me. He was wearing a suit from some high-end store like Tom Ford or Brooks Brothers.
I didn’t particularly like the idea of blowing hundreds of dollars on a stiff suit, but image was important to my family. So, I sucked it up and wore the damn suit.
“We’re ready,” I confirmed. “We’re going to perform well.”
“Hope so. Lot of money is going into your team,” my father replied. “I heard the women’s team is attending as well.”
My jaw tensed slightly. So, it was confirmed that the women’s team had enough funding to go. I knew that they were working hard to secure sponsors, but I didn’t know that they gathered that much money in such a small amount of time.
This was going to be an interesting trip across the country.
“We’ll make you proud,” I assured him. “We’re playing better than ever before.”
Coach Jacobson nodded.
“They are doing well,” he agreed. “They just can’t let the pressure get to them.”
Before the conversation could go any further, the spokesperson of the alumni association stood at the front of the room to address everyone. I didn’t listen as closely as I should’ve because my mind was filled with scenarios of what this trip was going to look like. Both teams would be traveling together. Staying in the same place together. Playing in the same tournament.
That was a lot of time together. And Leah would be there the entire time, right within reach.
That was probably a bad thing, but I couldn’t help the twist of excitement that gripped my stomach. Who knew what the hell would happen on this trip? It could either go well, or it could be a total disaster.
After the spokesperson finished up his welcome speech, lunch was served. Salmon, wild rice, and asparagus or chicken with baked potatoes. I loaded up on as much protein as I could, wanting to make these last few days count before the tournament. I had to be in the best shape possible.
My father turned to me while Coach Jacobson spoke with another woman at the table.
“Peter mentioned there has been some tension between the men and women’s team. Is that still a problem?” he asked.
It would probably always be a problem. We fought for funding and attention, and the new captain had proven to be a giant thorn in our side. A sexy one, but she was sharp and dug in deep as hell.
“No,” I lied. “I’ve actually talked to their new captain, Leah Carney, a few times now.”
“I don’t recognize that last name. Are her parents alumni or what do they do?” my father asked as he cut into his salmon.
Of course, he was only interested in knowing about her background. Her level of wealth. Like a teenage girl, if he could seek out gossip and drama, he would.
“I’m not sure. I just know that she’s from a small town and I heard she’s here on scholarship,” I replied.
My father released a sound of amusement, shaking his head a little.
“Small town girl thinks she can make it in the big leagues,” he commented.
Since she was my rival, I should’ve been agreeing and piling onto his comments, but I couldn’t get them out. He was making low blows, ones that even I wouldn’t make. Her background didn’t have anything to do with her athletic skills.
“It’s been done plenty of times before,” I replied as I poked around at my chicken. I wouldn’t mind leaving soon because I already knew where this conversation was headed since I defended her.
My father put down his fork and knife and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“How often are you seeing her?” he asked.
“Not that much. We just run into each other every so often,” I said, meeting his eyes with a steady expression.
My father narrowed his eyes slightly.
“You shouldn’t be spending so much time with her. Marc Daniels’ daughter goes here. You should meet her,” he told me.
He only said that because Marc Daniels was a successful investment banker sitting on piles of cash, and I suspected that his daughter was treated like a princess. She was probably sent here to meet a rich husband because there was no way that she needed to work a day in her life thanks to her daddy.