THE JOCK’S CONTRACT WITH THE NERD

*LOGAN*

"Logan."

I stared at the papers on the desk in front of me, barely registering the words on the page, and my mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Logan, are you listening to me?"

I blinked and quickly looked up. The woman sitting across from me stared with a serious expression, and she had been talking for the past few minutes, but I hadn't heard most of it.

"Sorry," I muttered. "Yes. I'm listening."

Dr. Rebecca Morgan, my academic advisor, leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over the file in front of her. I knew that look because it was the same look professors gave you when they were disappointed but still trying to decide whether you were worth the trouble, and my stomach tightened.

"What did I just say?" she asked.

I stared at her because I had absolutely no idea what she had just said. I rubbed the back of my neck and let out a quiet breath.

"You were talking about my grades."

"Yes."

She opened the file again and glanced down at the papers. "More specifically, I was talking about your GPA."

Something about the way she said it made me sit up straighter. I had never been the kind of student who worried too much about grades, not because I didn't care about school, and I knew graduating mattered because my parents had made that very clear from the moment I started college.

But hockey had always been different. Hockey was the one thing I knew I was good at, and it was where I belonged. I could spend hours on the ice without thinking about how tired I was, practicing the same move until my body remembered it automatically. I could stay after practice, take extra shots, work on my speed, improve my passes, and push myself until I had nothing left. When I was on the ice, everything made sense, but classes didn't. Assignments didn't. Exams definitely didn't.

Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that I would figure everything out eventually. Apparently, eventually had arrived.

Dr. Morgan turned one of the papers around and pushed it toward me. "Your GPA has dropped again."

I looked down at the page, and I didn't need to stare at the numbers for long because I already knew they were bad. Really bad.

"How bad?" I asked.

She gave me a look. "Bad enough that we're having this conversation."

I picked up the paper and looked at it again, and my chest tightened. I knew my grades weren't good, and I wasn't completely oblivious. I had missed assignments, barely studied for some tests, and walked into exams hoping whatever I remembered from the lectures would somehow be enough, but it wasn't. Seeing the numbers written down made everything feel more serious because this wasn't just one bad test, this was my entire academic record.

Dr. Morgan sighed. "Logan, you're talented. You're one of the strongest players this school has had in years. Your performance on the hockey team is excellent, and the school values what you've contributed."

I remained silent because I didn't know what to say to that.

"But hockey doesn't erase your academic requirements."

"I know."

"Do you?"

I looked at her. She wasn't being rude, and that somehow made it worse.

"You have to maintain a certain GPA to graduate," she continued. "We've discussed this before."

"I thought I had time."

"You do have time."

I looked at her hopefully because I thought she was about to let me off easy.

"But not enough time to keep doing what you've been doing."

My shoulders dropped, and I looked down at my hands. I had given almost everything to hockey. While other students were studying late at night, I was at the rink. While they were preparing for exams, I was traveling for games. While they were sitting in libraries with their textbooks open, I was in the gym working on my strength or on the ice working on my shots.

I had always told myself it was worth it, that hockey would take me somewhere, and that all the sacrifices would eventually pay off. But what was the point of having a future in hockey if I couldn't even graduate? The thought hit me harder than I expected.

I leaned back in the chair and dragged a hand over my face. "This is my fault."

Dr. Morgan didn't answer immediately, then she nodded. "Yes, Logan. It is."

There was no sugarcoating it, and honestly, I appreciated that because I had no one else to blame. Not my professors, not the school, not the team, not my coach. Me. I had made the choices, and I had decided hockey came first and school could wait, and now the consequences were sitting right in front of me.

"If this continues," Dr. Morgan said, "you won't meet the academic requirements for graduation."

My head lifted. "What?"

"If your GPA remains at this level, you will not graduate when you're supposed to."

For a few seconds, I couldn't say anything, and the room suddenly felt too quiet. I looked down at the paper again. Not graduate. The words repeated in my head because I had never seriously considered that possibility. I had imagined losing games, being benched, getting injured. I had even imagined that hockey might not become the career I wanted, but not graduating? No. That wasn't supposed to happen.

I had already spent years here, I was too close, and I couldn't walk away from college without a degree after everything I had put into it.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. "What do I do?"

Dr. Morgan looked at me. "I've already told you what you need to do."

"I mean, is there something else?"

"Something else?"

I nodded. "Extra work. Extra classes. I don't know. Anything."

"There are options."

Relief immediately washed over me. "Okay."

"But you're going to have to take this seriously."

"I will."

"You need to improve your grades significantly."

"I will."

"And you need to start now."

"I said I will."

She raised an eyebrow because I realized how desperate I sounded and lowered my voice. "Sorry."

She leaned forward slightly. "Logan, I'm not trying to scare you. I'm telling you this because you still have time. You are not at the point where this is impossible."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "So I can still fix it?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "Okay."

My mind immediately started racing because there had to be a way. I just needed to work harder. Maybe I could study after practice, wake up earlier, and ask my professors for help. I could figure it out. I always figured things out.

I looked at Dr. Morgan. "I can pay."

She blinked. "What?"

"For help."

Her expression changed. "Logan."

"I mean, if I need someone to help me with the classes, I can pay them. A tutor or something."

She stared at me for a second before slowly shaking her head. "Do not tell me you're trying to bribe me."

"No!" I immediately sat up. "No, that's not what I meant."

"Because if you're offering me money to change your grades, you have a much bigger problem than a low GPA."

My face burned. "I wasn't trying to bribe you."

"Good."

"I meant I can pay a tutor."

Her expression softened slightly. "That's different."

I nodded. "Then yes. Get a tutor. Get academic support. Speak to your professors. Use every legitimate resource available to you."

I leaned back in the chair. A tutor. It sounded simple, almost too simple. But there was one problem.

"When would I even have time?"

Dr. Morgan gave me a pointed look. "That's something you'll have to figure out."

I sighed because my schedule was already packed with classes, practice, training, games, travel, and recovery, and there was barely enough time to sleep, and now I was supposed to find time to study?

I glanced at the clock on the wall. For the first time, I wished I had taken school more seriously before things reached this point.

Dr. Morgan closed my file. "Listen to me, Logan. You still have time before graduation. Don't waste it."

I nodded. "I won't."

"I hope not."

She stood, making it clear that the meeting was over, and I pushed myself out of the chair and gathered my papers. I was almost at the door when her voice stopped me.

"Logan."

I turned around. She was looking at me seriously.

"You are not stupid."

I said nothing because I didn't know how to respond to that.

"You've just been careless."

I looked away, and those words stayed with me as I walked out of her office and pulled the door shut behind me. The hallway was crowded with students moving between classes, and normally, I would have barely noticed them, but today, I barely noticed anything.

I looked down at the paper in my hand. My GPA, my graduation, my future. Everything suddenly felt uncertain. I had spent years becoming one of the best hockey players at this school. I had worked until my body hurt, sacrificed sleep and free time, and given almost everything to the sport I loved. And now I was finding out that none of it mattered if I couldn't pass my classes.

I shoved the paper into my backpack. I needed a plan, a real one, because for the first time since I came to college, hockey wasn't the only thing I had to worry about. I had to save my degree, but as I walked down the hallway, one question kept running through my mind.

How the hell was I supposed to do that?