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“No morning class?”
“I canceled it.”
“No training sesh with West?”
I blow out a breath. “We’d already decided we’d have to pick those up after homecoming. Our schedules got really busy this week.”
“And let me guess, he hasn’t contacted you today either?”
“He didn’t leave on the best terms,” I grumble, picking at an imaginary thread on the arm of the sofa. She’s well aware, but I guess she figures he’d reach out to me before now. “Plus, he’s…busy.”
Which I’m sure he is, but I wish I knew what he was busy doing. I could help. Probably…
“You should contact him. He needs you and doesn’t know how to admit it. Men are like that. They want to seem all tough, but they’re just like us.”
“Which is what I thought an hour ago, so I texted him. No response.”
“Did you call him?”
I nod.
“Huh.”
“Pretty much,” I agree. He said he’d contact me, but when shit hit ESPN, I figured I needed to say something. I gesture toward the TV. “They’re making it out like he’s a privileged asshole who’s hoarding all this money.”
Sydney moves around the sofa and sits. “Which reminds me…holy shit, did you realize he was making that much money?”
A pit forms in my stomach. I shake my head. It’s hard to admit, but I feel betrayed. West comes off like he’s this normal guy trying to get by. He said he didn’t have any money. He told me when he grew up that his mother’s car was a piece of shit. But hell, he has enough money to buy a crap ton of cars!
Three. Million. Dollars.
I knew the start of all these NIL deals for college athletes would change the face of sports. It just goes to show what you can accomplish if you’re in a popular sport that you’re really, really good at. I’ve never heard of divers making that much money. Then again, there aren’t pro diving meets either. It’s college and Olympics. That’s it. If you’re lucky enough to make it to the Olympics, you’ll probably get a sponsorship deal, but we’re not talking anything like the money you can make in pro football, basketball, or baseball.
I turn toward her. “I guess I can understand why he never said anything. Seems like a weird way to start a conversation, let alone a relationship. ‘Hey, by the way, I’m already pulling in three million, and I haven’t even been drafted yet.’ ”
She takes a sip of her drink. “It’s probably not something you want known around campus either. They already have girls who fawn all over them just because they’re football players. Add in the money aspect? He wouldn’t know who to trust.”
I shake my head. “I’m exhausted, and it totally sucks that things were going in a great direction. Now all of this. It feels like a direct hit, sending the two of us right back to the beginning.”
“Like when you hated football players and wanted them to all get VDs so their dicks would rot and fall off?”
“Exac—”Wait, what did she just say? Dicks falling off?“Maybe not that far.”
“I knew it,” Sydney states, standing on the couch. She looms over me. “His dick is like a balm to your injured soul.”
I pat the couch. “I’ve never told you this before, but I think you have issues.”
She shrugs, plopping back down again. She takes another drink of water and then places it on the coffee table in front of us. “In all seriousness, what are you thinking? I know yesterday was awful, and this is just the beginning. That boy is going places, and that means more people will know his name. More opportunities to be thrown in the spotlight, and I know you get weirded out by your scar.”
I rest my head against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “West helped me feel comfortable in my own skin again. But when he didn’t stick up for me yesterday, I was hurt. It was all about football. ‘Oh, we have to get West out of here before he blows up and ruins homecoming.’ ‘Oh, we have to leave because they’re recording and if West gives them anything, they’ll plaster that video all over the internet. It’ll be so bad for the team’,” I mock.
She reaches over to grip my hand in hers. “I get that. And on top of that, West doesn’t talk very much. He almost looked shell-shocked yesterday. I’m not sure he could’ve said something even if he wanted to.”
Which is a symptom of abuse.
West’s personality makes so much more sense now that I’ve met his father. “I feel for him. I really do.”
“I sense a but…”