Draw Play: A Sports Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    I dreaded the meeting with Coach, and the dull first day of class didn’t help. Intro to Theatre—my advisor, had told me to take it, said it would be an easy A. I’d agreed since I needed all the A’s I could get. The professor was a short, bald man with wire-rimmed glasses and stick up his ass. I was glad to see a few jocks like me in the class. We all looked at each other with one of those “Oh, you too?” looks. The professor said we would have to go to every show that semester and the three shows were listed on the syllabus. I tried not to groan out loud. I could imagine what the rest of the guys at the frat house would think.

    * * *
    M y next class was right after. Shakespeare. I was sort of interested in that one since I had read a few of his plays in high school and thought they were pretty good. Most people didn’t “get it,” but I did. Sometimes I had answered questions my classmates asked before the teacher could. And I was always right. Again, the professor didn’t cover anything since some people wouldn’t even enroll in the class until the end of the week when the add/drop period ended.
    After that, I grabbed a quick lunch at the student union. It was embarrassing, the way people recognized me there. I wasn’t one of the guys who liked being popular and treated like a celebrity because I played football. Max loved it. Zack fucking lived for it. They were the stars, so that was expected. The rest of the team was well-known, like me, and they all seemed to like it. I wished people didn’t know who I was everywhere I went. It would just make failing and getting kicked off the team worse.
    I couldn’t help worrying about that, even as I waved at people. What would happen if I fucked it all up and failed, even with a tutor? What if the tutor was a piece of shit who only wanted to get credit or money, or whatever they were in it for? What then? What if I didn’t have it in me to do well? My classes were getting harder, and the pressure wouldn’t help my confidence.
    My stomach was in knots the entire way to the Athletics building. Music blared from the stereo—this time, it was Guns ‘n Roses.
    I walked down the hall, past the locker room and showers, to Coach’s office. I heard voices coming from the inside. One of them was a girl’s voice. A girl! I perked up a little. This could be more interesting than I thought.
    Then I stepped through the open doorway and saw my tutor. All hope disappeared when I saw her. For some reason, Jenny’s face flashed through my head. The two of them couldn’t have been more different.
    Coach was smiling from ear to ear, and I could have knocked him on his ass for it. He loved seeing my reaction. “Well, look who has arrived!”
    “Hey, Coach.”
    “Jake Jennings, this is Claire McKinnon.”
    I gave her a short wave then shook her hand when I realized what a dick move that was. I didn’t need her hating me and telling Coach I wasn’t cooperating or some shit. I got a frigid vibe from her, and her grip told me she was disgusted by me. One of those. The first impression I got was of some standoffish feminist. I was surprised she didn’t wear combat boots.
    “I was just telling Claire how glad we are to have her on the team.” I could have puked, he was so over-the-top. He never talked that way except when he was trying to impress somebody. I was surprised he didn’t bow or kiss her hand, maybe pull out a top hat and cane.
    “Are you a football fan?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but the only thing I could think to ask. Was there a student at our school who didn’t love football?
    “No, I’m not.”
    Coach and I went silent. The office got so quiet I thought I could hear myself blink.
    “You’re kidding,” Coach gasped.
    She shook her head. He was at a loss.
    “I have never seen a game,” she admitted. She looked embarrassed, at least, like she knew we would be insulted. I wasn’t—I was surprised, more than anything. I’d breathed