My heart beat in my throat. “Why is Tory Miller’s dad threatening you?” I asked as Callahan hastily switched the screen on his iPad.
His tightlipped response didn’t make me feel better. “He’s not. We have a difference of opinion is all.”
“That’s what the kids are calling it when a major alumni donor says ‘You know what to do to keep your sponsorship,’ huh?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Sounds like a threat to me. What does he want you to do?”
“It doesn’t matter because I’m not doing it.” He pulled up a screen where we’d listed all the Regency manners we’d decided were relevant to our project. “That ass could do with learning a few of these,” he muttered under his breath. Turning his attention to me with a brightness that sounded fake, he said, “I was thinking we could tell a marketing story about the necessity of good manners for keeping a society together. Something along the lines of the old ‘Got Milk?’ ads that ran in the nineties. From what I’ve seen of the first presentations, doing something a bit out of the box will give us the ‘wow factor’ Dair dared us to show him. What do you think?”
“Callahan—”
He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “There’s nothing to talk about. Miller wants me to do something I refuse to do. That’s it.” Leveling me a look, he said, “Can we please work on our project? Our turn is coming up the week after next, so we need to settle on how we’re presenting our research to give ourselves enough time to practice.”
Though he was right about our project, he was wrong about whatever was going on with Buzz Miller. Something Tory had said when she flounced over to Chessly and me in the Union nudged the back of my brain, but Callahan was talking over my thoughts, and I had to let it go.
For now.
The next morning while Callahan showered, I wandered down to the kitchen in search of coffee. How the guys did these early mornings was a mystery for the ages. It wasn’t normal to expect someone to roll out of bed and be ready to work out at a high level before the sun managed to peek over the horizon. It wasn’t normal to expect someone to roll out of bed before sunrise, period.
When I caught sight of Finn pouring a cup of joe, I slapped my hand over my hippo-size yawn. “Good morning. What’s that delicious smell?”
“Got breakfast burritos warming in the oven.”
My eyes might have done that cartoon thing where they shot out of my head and snapped back like elastic. “You woke up in time to make breakfast?”
He chuckled. “’Han and Bax make ’em on the weekends and freeze ’em. All I have to do is put ’em in the oven to reheat.”
“Nice.” I blew across my cup of coffee and sipped, happy for the jolt of caffeinated energy.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, frowned at the text on the screen, and stuffed it back in his sweats. The action reminded me of Hotshot with his iPad the night before. “Um, Finn. Do you know anything about the threats Tory’s dad is making to Callahan?”
Clearing his throat, he glanced away from me with a guilty expression. “Has he said something?”
“No. I saw something on his iPad before he pulled it away from me last night. What’s going on?”
“Ah, Jesus. I don’t want to get crossways with my roommate.”
“Tory made some vague threats when she barged in on my conversation with Chessly in the Union yesterday, so I think I’m involved somehow.” Raising my brow, I gave him my best “out with it” stare. “You have an obligation to tell me what you know.”
He sort of danced from foot to foot and looked everywhere but at me.
“Finn.” My tone demanded an answer.
“Tory’s dad wants ’Han to dump you for her.” Something like guilt lurked in his pained expression. “If he doesn’t, Tory’s dad is going to force Copper to drop their sponsorship for him.”
My heart fell into my stomach. “That means—”
“’Han has to find another sponsor or a job that pays a shit-ton of money for very short hours so he can buy groceries.”
I staggered against the countertop. “The sponsorship pays his rent?”
Finn looked as miserable as I felt. “It covers what he needs to stay in school and play football.”
“Why? Why is her dad doing this?”
Finn shrugged. “He has a thing for hooking his daughters up with players who have a real chance at the pros. Tory set her sights on ’Han last spring, and I guess she hasn’t changed her mind.”
Those words I thought I’d heard Hotshot say when I was half-asleep after the most intense sex of my life came back to me: I’d do anything for you, Jamaica. Was he talking about giving up a sponsorship that kept him on the field? Was he talking about giving up his dream to play in the NFL?
Oh, sweet Jesus. I couldn’t stand in the way of him achieving his dream. Before I met him I didn’t see the point of sports, couldn’t understand why players were so dedicated. After watching most of a season’s worth of games and Callahan in action, I saw the allure of playing the game. I marveled at an athlete’s drive. Listening to his excitement as he broke down a series of plays with his buddies while they watched the pros on Sunday afternoons, I had no doubt he couldn’t wait to have his turn playing in front of millions of fans.
After years of work and sacrifice, he deserved his dream. How could I live with myself if I let my feelings for him interfere with the one thing that drove him—the thing that made him who he was?
“You can’t tell him I told you,” Finn warned. “He told me he’d kick my ass if I did.”
Shooting him an “are you kidding me?” stare, I said, “You outweigh him by at least fifty pounds. I doubt you’re in any danger.”
“No one on the team tangles with Callahan. He’s a fun guy and all, but when he tells you not to cross him or he’ll kick your ass, you’d better believe he will kick your ass.” The imploring expression on his face might have been comical if the stakes weren’t so high, the situation so serious. He held his palms together in front of his chest. “Please don’t tell him I told you.”
“Yeah, okay,” I replied absently.
Callahan could lose his sponsorship. Because he was dating me. Damn it.
I’d started a relationship with a player—something I vowed I’d never do because it could only lead to heartache. Specifically, my heartache. It never occurred to me I could be the cause of someone losing everything that mattered to him. And double damn, not only had I started something with Callahan, but I didn’t want it to end. As much as I’d lied to myself over the past several weeks, I couldn’t lie anymore.
I was in love with Callahan O’Reilly.
Now, because I loved him, I had to give him up.
“What am I going to do, Ax?” I dropped my head on my arms resting on the table in the coffee shop at the edge of campus.
I’d called an emergency meeting with my best friend as soon as Hotshot dropped me at my dorm on his way to morning lift. Axel’s expressions had morphed from sympathetic to downright pissed off to contemplative in the space of the twenty minutes since I’d spilled my bad news all over him.
He covered my wrist with his hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “Callahan has an agent for NIL sponsorships, doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” I said into the table. “I don’t have a clue how any of it works.” Sitting up, I stared at where his hand remained on me, a sense of doom threatening to drown me. “Before he took me to dinner at Copper last week, I didn’t even know someone sponsored him.” Tilting my head, I asked, “NIL? Is that something else I’m in the way of for him?”
Axel grinned. “No, babe. NIL stands for ‘Name Image Likeness.’ It’s what the sponsors pay for with athletes.” With one last squeeze he sat back and sipped his latte. “Kids aren’t going to bug their parents to shell out the big bucks for a jersey with Copper across the back, but they all want one with O’Reilly or Patterson or even Baxter’s number on it. That’s what the sponsors pay for. Association with guys people want to be around. It’s why they want him to have dinner there regularly, maybe sign a few autographs for patrons. Show up in a print or online ad.”
“Which pays his rent,” I said, not bothering to keep the sadness from my voice. I’d pretended with Hotshot from the minute he’d jogged down the stairs to grab his burrito until he dropped me back on campus. With my best friend I could be myself, let my fear and sorrow out.
“Have you talked about it with him?”
“I tried to when I saw a text from Tory’s dad hit his iPad, but he tossed it aside and wouldn’t let me in. From the way he tensed up, I know he’s worried.” I spun my cup around in my hands, making circles on the table with it. “Finn said something about how losing this sponsorship could impact Callahan’s ability to obtain another one.” After taking a fortifying drag of caffeine, I said the worst part—the part that hurt the most. “If he loses a sponsorship in college, it will lower his draft stock, make him less desirable to the NFL. Start his career under a cloud he might never step out from under.” My eyes found my friend’s. “I can’t do that to him, Ax. I have to break up with him.”
“But that’s the last thing you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t matter. Even if he thinks he will do anything for me”—Axel’s brow shot up, but I plowed on—“there will come a time when he’ll regret giving up so much of what he worked so hard for to be with a girl who brings nothing to the table.” Closing my eyes, I sucked in air and willed the lump in my throat to go away. My voice came out as a croak anyway. “I can’t face that. I just can’t.”
My friend sat up straight in his chair. “You’re doing it again.”
Furrowing my brow, I said, “Excuse me?”
“You’re scared so you’re making plans to run from the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” His censorious tone had me gripping my hands together in my lap. “Don’t be a dumbass, Jamaica.”
No doubt my nails were going to leave marks on my knuckles for days.
“This isn’t about me, Axel. Don’t you see? I can’t be the reason Callahan loses everything he’s worked for.”
The screech of his chair along the linoleum made me cringe. That and the narrow-eyed glare he shot me as he stood up. “It’s not your decision to make.” He tapped the alarm on his watch, grabbed his empty cup, and chucked it in the trash as he reached the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he jacked a brow and said, “Are you coming?”
Slowly I dragged myself out of my chair, shouldered my backpack, and followed my friend out of the coffee shop. Though we walked across campus in silence, the vibes rolling off him told me all about his disappointment in me. But to make sure he didn’t lose his chance at his dream, I had to walk away from this thing growing between Hotshot and me.
Because I was in love with him.