He let out a breath. “Really, son?”

“Would you like me to write four more?”

“You’re going to write a ton more.” He gestured toward the chair. “Have a seat.”

“Wait.” I looked at my watch. “I have an important meeting with someone in twenty minutes. Can I come back after that for my next dose of punishment?”

“Kyle fucking Stanton.” He looked like he was seconds away from losing his shit. “Your next hookup can wait.”

“This girl isn’t a hookup, Coach,” I said. “I mean, did you not catch a word of what I said a few weeks ago? Granted, she’s sexy as hell, but she’s not into me.” I tapped my chin—envisioning her pink lips and deep brown eyes, the way her latest violet-colored dress clung to her curves. “I don’t think she’ll ever sleep with me, though.”

“Sit down, Kyle.” His head looked like it was about to explode. “Now.”

I didn’t dare risk seeing what the next stage of his anger might be, so I reluctantly gave in and took a seat. I pulled out my phone to let Courtney know that I would be late, but Coach snatched it from my hands and tossed it into his drawer.

“That can wait, too.” He picked up his desk phone. “You can bring Professor Kline in for us, Coach George. Kyle is ready to listen and take notes on the theme of the play now.”

Five essays and three long lectures later, Coach finally returned my phone.

I started to message Courtney to apologize for missing another Wednesday, but she’d already sent me a slew of emails.

 

* * *

 

Subject: Today’s Session.

Subject: We’re still on, right? It’s seven-thirty.

Subject: SERIOUSLY? It’s TEN o’clock.

* * *

 

Shit.

Courtney: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

I should’ve known …

I drafted a second email to Miss Hopewell, taking out all the curse words and “I refuse” lines in my previous version.

She’d called me twice this week, saying, “I can’t wait to read what you find on Kyle!” And “Ask him if he’d be willing to sit for a photoshoot with The New York Times at the end of this. I’d love to have his picture on my wall.”

She’d also sent me several texts a day asking how the process was going, as if I’d been doing this for longer than a month. She was honestly making me choose her as my honorary guest advisor.

Kyle Stanton is not a topic worthy of my thesis, and I’m not sure what type of strange, older woman, younger man fantasy you’re trying to re-live through my work, but …

I let out a sigh and removed that line, too.

I wasn’t just upset with her and Kyle. I was upset with every person on The Pitt News staff for leaving early. Again.

Just as I was about to change course and work on a mass email to them, heavy footsteps filled the office.

“Why weren’t you still at Fuel & Fuddle for my interview?” Kyle suddenly stepped in front of my desk.

“I was there.” I looked up at him. “I was there for three freakin’ hours, so I decided that I should leave before closing time.”

“Well, is now a good time for you to ask me questions?”

“Never would be better.” I was done with him and this thesis topic that I’d never asked for. “Look, I get it. Your future is pretty much set and you don’t have to worry about trivial things like grades, your forever girl, and graduation, but I do. So, to save us both the time and disappointment of working together, I’ll research the only interviews you’ve done via ESPNU and College Football Magazine and craft some type of piece about the system of college football as a whole.”

I shrugged and slid my purse over my shoulder. “You know what else? I’ll even let you read it before I send it in to my advisor. Good luck with the rest of the season.”

I walked straight to the elevators. Pressing the down button, I let out a sigh of relief once the doors glided open.

“Okay, wait. Wait.” He stepped onto the car before the doors closed. “I don’t want you to email me the questions.”

“You’ll come off way better in the piece if you do.”

“I honestly doubt that.” He had the audacity to smile. “I think that your style of writing combined with my real answers will be the best bet for this. I also think that I can compel you to help me with my Vagina Monologues punishment paper.”

“Ha! I’ll pass. I can’t keep making time in my schedule for you. I have a dating life, Kyle.”

He looked somewhat surprised by my last line, but he cleared his throat. “How about if I did something to make up for the past couple of weeks?”

“Something like what?” I desperately wished there was a “straight to the bottom’ button for the elevator. “I do need help in my Orthopterology class, but I doubt you’re the right person to help me with that.”

“You’re wrong.” He pulled out his phone. “The team gets access to the best tutors on campus, in any subject, and we get to let one friend take advantage as well. So, seeing as though we’re now friends—”

“We are not friends, Kyle.”

“I can put your name on my list and the team counselor will get whatever you need. He’ll even have the tutor meet on your terms.”

“Wait a minute.” I hesitated to accept. “If you have tons of tutors at your fingertips, why don’t you make straight A’s every semester?”

“Because that’s not a requirement to get into the league.” He followed me off the elevator. “What do you say?”

I sighed. I could use the help, but dealing with Kyle for another day was something I needed to think about for months.

As if he could sense my hesitation, he placed his hands on my shoulders. “In addition to that, how about letting me help you with something else?”

“There is literally nothing else that you can help me with, Kyle.”

“How about being friends?”

“Excuse me?”

“I noticed on your Facebook that you don’t have any, and my best friend is currently M.I.A. as fuck, so…”

“So, you’re willing to be my friend with sympathy?”

“More like with benefits.”

“Yeah, okay, hell no.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You had tons of stuff written on that ‘Things I Want to Do During My Senior Year’ status you posted, and you can’t do all of it alone.”

“How long did you spend going through my profile?”

“Long enough to know that I’m making you an offer you shouldn’t refuse,” he said. “What do you say? Friends?”

“No.” I shook my head, sighing. “I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” He looked me over again. “How about you make up your mind after I answer some of your questions? To show you how serious I am, I’ll answer eight of them via email before requesting another sit-down session with you.”