Jace

I should be fucking terrified.

I should be down on my knees, begging for forgiveness. But Coach Harris wouldn't listen to my plea. And he honestly isn't all that scary. So it's difficult for me to wipe the smug grin I'm wearing off my lips.

The vein on the side of Coach's forehead pulses each time he points his finger at me. Spit flies out of his mouth and lands on my upper lip. So fucking amusing.

I don't wipe it off. I don't even move. The only thing that lets me know I'm not completely paralyzed are my hands, gripping down tightly on the armrests of my chair. They tremble under my strength. Doing the best they can to prevent me from standing up, slamming my fists on his old wooden desk, and telling him to get the fuck out of my face.

But I respect Coach Harris. And he is not wrong for yelling at me. I just wish he would have supplied me with a towel so I can dry off my face.

"Do you think this is funny, Mr. Maxwell?"

"Hilarious," I say, my teeth grind together. "May I go now?"

He lets out harsh scoff and rolls his eyes. "After the stunt you pulled? Breaking onto the baseball field, drunk I might add, and destroying thousands of dollars worth of equipment, you think you can just walk out of here scot-free?" He pauses, waiting for me to respond.

I raise my brows at him because yes, that is exactly what I expect him to do. I feel like I've done so much worse. Considering that last year the campus security guard found me and a freshman fucking on the bleachers, I just got a slap on the wrist and a stern "don't do it again" speech. Last night I just had a few beers, okay maybe more than a few, hopped in one of the baseball team's golf carts, and had myself a little joy ride. I may have crashed it into the shed full of extra equipment. But details. The fact is I had a great fucking night.

"You are suspended from the team, Jace."

"What?" My body practically flies out of the chair and slams against the low ceiling of Coach's office.

"For the rest of the season."

"Come on, Coach, you can't do this to me."

He simply shrugs and takes a seat on the other side of his desk.

This can't be happening. Not now. Not my junior year. This is when all the recruiters come to Bayside University and scope out potential prospects. I can't miss a single game, and Coach knows that.

"Please," my hands slam down onto his desk, knocking over a really old picture of him and his daughter. He scowls at that and I lift my hands off the surface. "Don't do this to me, Coach. You know how important this year is."

"You should have thought about that before destroying school property." Now he's the one smirking and the vein in my forehead is nearly about to burst. "You're lucky you're friends with the Chancellor's son. Otherwise, your ass would have been kicked out of this university."

"Please, Coach," I start, practically on my knees. Now I'm fucking begging. "I'll do anything. Anything. Just don't do this to me."

He cocks a brow at that. His lips part under his dark mustache and curl into a devious smile. It's like he was waiting for me to say those exact words.

"Anything, huh?"

I swallow hard. My throat is dry and my tongue feels like sandpaper as it tries to wet my lips.

"Coach Carr needs an assistant for her women's volleyball team. Her previous assistant coach graduated last semester. Help her out and you'll be allowed to practice with the team."

"Just practice?"

"I'll consider letting you play during games. That all depends on how you do with your new job." He opens a binder on his desk, letting me know this conversation is coming to a close. "Fuck up again, and your ass is done." He glances up at me under his thick brows.

I want to protest. I want to slam my fist down on his desk, but I don't. I need to keep my composure. Coach Harris is a hard ass, but he always looks out for the good of his team and his players. When he says something, you do it, and you be grateful for it.

But I have to be honest, this fucking sucks.

As I leave Coach's office I am hit with the smell of salty air. That's one of the perks of attending Bayside. It's right on the beach, surrounded by crystal clear ocean. And the consistent Florida heat makes the water even more enticing.

The other perk of this school is the baseball team. Number one in the state. And if you want to get into the major leagues, this is the school to attend. Though, I guess now none of that really matters.

"Holy fuck, Jace," Kaden says as he jogs over to me, looking disheveled, wearing the same clothes from last night. There's still even some dirt on his cheek.

Kaden Kell is one of my childhood friends. And now I guess former teammate. Fuck, no, we are still teammates, it's just a minor suspension. But honestly, it feels like the end of the world.

"What the hell happened? What did he do? I shouldn't have let you do this man. It was all my fault. It was my idea to get the beers and break onto the field. And the golf cart. Oh fuck man, I need to tell Coach."

I grab his shoulder, hard, preventing him from taking another step and doing something stupid. Something he will regret.

My jaw clenches but loosens before I speak. "Don't. You have so much more to lose here."

And that is absolutely true. For me, baseball was something I was good at. It was something I did to get out of the house and get away from my dad. When I was recruited onto the Bayside team, it was an easy way to go to college without struggling to pay tuition. I refused to take any handouts from my dad to pay for school.

Kaden, on the other hand, needs baseball in his life. And not even for his sake, but for his father. Kaden has been playing baseball from the moment he could hold a ball. His dad made sure of it. It's like he's trying to live out his dreams vicariously through his son.

I feel for Kaden. The pressure is unbelievable, but he handles it well. Kaden Kell is one of the most careless people I have ever met. He drinks way too much, parties more than he should, and hooks up with an impressive amount of women. But, at the end of the day, when it comes down to his baseball, he's all in. He'd do anything to play.

Which is why I can't let him go down for this. Even though everything he's saying is true.

"But it's my fault, Jace."

I squeeze his shoulder tighter and lower my voice to just above a whisper. "I'm the one that was driving, okay? I'm not letting you go down for this."

"But—"

"But nothing. And will you stop talking about this right outside of Coach's office?"

Kaden sucks in his lips and nods, tugging on the grey beanie covering his blond hair.

I nudge him forward and we walk away from the athletics building.

"So, what is your punishment? Do you have to clean the teams' clothes? Paint the locker room? Be Coach's bitch until graduation," he jokes, but I don't laugh.

"Let's just..." My jaw tenses to the point that it actually hurts. "Let's just talk about it when we get to the apartment. I can't even think straight right now."