Whispered Promises

The Deal

Jackson's POV

"Jackson, we need to talk." Coach's voice was firm, cutting through the locker room chatter. My heart sank before he even said another word. This couldn't be good.

I followed him to his office, the sound of cleats on the tile echoing behind us. When the door clicked shut, the weight of what was coming settled in my chest like a boulder.

"Honestly, that was too much. You're slacking in the games, skipping training, and your grades..." Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're tanking, Jackson. If you keep this up, you'll lose your scholarship for college."

I didn't need to hear the rest, but he went on anyway. "These girls aren't worth sacrificing your future. Get your head straight, or I'm taking you off the team."

Coach's voice is gruff, like gravel grinding underfoot. He gives me that disappointed dad look that makes me squirm. His office feels smaller every time I'm in here—walls lined with old trophies and team photos staring back at me like judgmental ghosts of athletes past.

I knew something like this was coming. Coach pulled me over right after practice. Now I'm stuck listening to another one of his speeches. But, hell, as always, I'll walk out of here and pretend nothing happened.

I shrugged, leaning back in my chair, trying to play it cool. "I get it, Coach, but come on. Who can say no to all the attention? I mean, girls literally line up for the football captain." I smirked, but it didn't reach my eyes. The truth was, it was easy to get lost in it all—the parties, the one-night stands. The girls didn't care what happened after. They were just happy to have a piece of me, and that made it easy to keep up the routine.

Coach isn't most people. He shakes his head, and I swear he's holding back the urge to smack some sense into me. His eyes narrowed. "Is that your excuse? You think that makes you invincible? Let me tell you something, Jackson. Those girls won't be here when you lose your future. You're wasting your talent, and I'm not watching you throw it all away."

I swallowed hard, my bravado faltering for a moment. It wasn't just Coach on my back; I'd heard the same speech from my trainer, my teachers—even Marques.

"What about Marques? He's out there too, and he's not getting benched."

"His grades are still good. His reputation isn't in the toilet like yours. Don't think I'm not on his case too, but right now, you're the bigger problem."

I roll my eyes. "So what? You want me to stop having fun? Abstain from sex? Yeah, not happening." There's no way I'm missing out on what's basically being handed to me on a silver platter.

Coach leans in, elbows on his desk, and narrows his eyes. "Then get into a relationship. At least until you pull your grades up and get your head back in the game."

I let out a sharp laugh. "Me? In a relationship? Coach, come on—you know that's not my thing."

His tone drops, dead serious now. "It better become your thing. If I hear about another blackout at a party or another one-night stand, you're off the roster. I don't care how good you are on the field. Got it?"

I blinked, the gravity of his words settling in. "You're not serious."

"Try me," Coach snapped. "Now get out of my office."

I grabbed my stuff, my mind racing as I walked out of the building. Marques was waiting for me by the truck, arms crossed like he already knew. Sometimes we carpool to practice since we live close to each other. Today, I was grateful for the company, even if I wasn't in the mood to talk. I toss my bag in the back and slide into the passenger seat, still stewing over Coach's ultimatum.