Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“You’re aggressive on the field, you’re working yourself too hard, and you’re not in sync with Chris like you usually are. You don’t even want to know how many incomplete passes I’ve counted today. You’re a mess, Dylan. You know it, I know it, the whole team knows it. Do you think you can afford to be reckless this season? This is your future you’re playing with, kid, and for what? A girl you won’t even remember a month from now, much less a year from now?”
With every word out of his mouth, I could feel my shoulders tense further and further. Football was my life. I was a damn good player, the best wide receiver out there. I worked hard to earn that.
“Do you think it’s all fun and games in the NFL? You think they’ll give a shit about you throwing a temper tantrum about your teammates? The NFL is a whole new level. If you can’t settle your differences with a few of your teammates, forget about your differences and play as a team on that field in college, you should forget about the NFL. You’re good. We both know you’ll get there, but not everyone has what it takes to stay there. It won’t matter who you play for if all you do is sit on a bench because you can’t get along with your teammates for whatever reason. Unless you’re out on that field, giving it all you got—”
“Sir, with all due—”
“Shut up, Dylan. Shut up and listen to me. This is it. This is your last year. Do you understand that? You either make it or you don’t. You have eyes on you. You know it’s not just the media either. You’ve had eyes on you since your second year here, and don’t forget that you were the one who chose to finish school before moving on to the big-boy league. The season starts next week. You have a shot, but you know every game counts. Don’t screw everything up, not for something stupid like this.”
“Sir, I have no intention of screwing anything up. I’m working on it. I promise the next time you see me on the field you will—”
He straightened from the desk and walked back to his seat behind it. “The next time I see you on the field, you better have your shit together. If you don’t, I’ll assume you’re itching to get benched.” Pulling out a small key from the back pocket of his jeans, he unlocked the top drawer, took out another key, and tossed it to me.
My hand shot out, and I caught it in my palm before it could connect with my face.
“I know you take part-time jobs here and there whenever you can find the time, especially during the off-season. I’m assuming you send whatever is left after your expenses to your family and you’ll do the same this year, too?” I held the key tighter in my hand, felt the edges biting into my skin, and gave him a silent nod before he continued. “Then you can’t afford your own place. It’s too late to apply for campus housing, and I can’t have one of my top players sleeping on the floor at one of his teammates’ houses.” Leaning back in his seat, he gave me a long look. “I have an apartment just off campus. I had a—it’s empty now. You’ll be staying there. I need you to get your head back in the game. We need you this season.”
And I needed to have football in my life. I wouldn’t cope well if he decided benching me was a better idea.
“I’ll have my shit together for the game.”
“That’s what I want to hear. We’re done. Now get up and get the hell out of my office. I’ll text you the address by the end of the day.”
I opened my palm and looked down at the key. I wasn’t looking for a free handout—hell, I hated the fact that I was even considering it, but I was out of options since everyone I knew had gotten their housing figured out months ago. I still could bunk up with a teammate or classmate, but I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t affect my game or my classes. I needed a party-free, girlfriend-free last year of college if I was going to make my and my family’s dreams come true. My decision already made, I got up to leave.
“Thanks, Coach,” I mumbled, just loud enough that he could hear me.
“Dylan.”
With my hand on the door handle, I stopped and looked back at him over my shoulder.
“I don’t want Chris knowing about this apartment or my involvement in you getting it. Sometimes when it’s too late to head back, I stay over, and his mom doesn’t know about the apartment. I want it to stay that way. Do you get me? I’ll be staying there from time to time so make sure I don’t see any of your teammates around either. I already see enough of your ugly faces to last a lifetime.”