The Probation

4

GAVIN 

“Mr. West.” Professor Igor called just as I reached for the exit.

Around me, students slowed down.

Some openly stared while others whispered behind cupped hands.

I didn't need to guess why.

By now, everyone in Wolveridge has already seen the video.

The cheating scandal topped by the kiss. Every gossip page on campus had a field day.

I ignored them and glanced over my shoulder. 

“Yes, Professor?”

“Can I have a moment with you?”

My hand tightened around the strap of my backpack, and I slipped one hand into my pocket and walked back to his desk, while the last few students lingered, pretending to pack their bags just so they could eavesdrop.

Nosy bastards.

Professor Igor waited until the room had almost emptied before reaching into his briefcase. He placed a single sheet of paper on the desk between us 

“Last semester's results for this course will be out next week.” He said calmly. “You failed the paper. Again.”

I glanced at the grade for barely a second before looking away.

“I figured.”

He arched his eyebrows as he watched me. “You don't look surprised.”

I shrugged, positioning my backpack properly on my shoulder. 

“I wasn't expecting a miracle,” I mumbled.

He nodded once and leaned back on his chair, rolling a pen between his fingers.

“Do you know what this means for you?” He questioned.

“I'll retake it,” I uttered and turned to leave.

“You can't.” He said, and I slowly turned around, 

My brows furrowed as I turned to face him. “What do you mean?” 

He folded his arms. “You have exhausted every opportunity the department allows.” 

Is he fucking pulling my legs?

Silence settled between us before he continued. “If this grade stands,” he said and shrugged. “You will be placed on academic probation.”

My jaw tightened. My brows pinched in a deep frown as I tried to understand all the things he just spilled.

“And if you're on academic probation…”

“I lose my eligibility,” I said, and he nodded his head.

“If you are on academic probation, you'll lose your captainship title and also lose your place in the Wolveridge Knights.” 

The word hung heavily between us. 

For the first time in weeks, my stomach tightened.

Hockey wasn't just another sport for me. It was my life!

My career. My everything.

“I already explained to your coach and made a suggestion to him.” He continued. “If you're interested, you can call me or come to my office for a proper negotiation.”

Professor Igor studied me for a long second before speaking again.

“I've been teaching in Wolveridge University for over eighteen years now, and I've witnessed plenty of talented athletes throw away their careers because they are too arrogant or too shy to ask for help.” He uttered, and I huffed.

“I don't need a lecture.” 

“No,” he nodded in agreement. “You need a tutor.”

Oh, hell no.

I laughed and shook my head. “No.”

“It isn't a suggestion.” He added.

“It is if I'm the one paying for the damn tutorial,” I responded harshly and slapped my hand on my forehead. “Fuck.”

“You won't be.” He answered and slipped another file across the desk. “The university’s athletic department approved a private academic arrangement.”

I stared at the file across the desk and glanced up at Professor Igor.

I dragged a hand across my face and swore under my breath.

Mom would lose her shit if she heard this. And Dad….. well, he'll give me hell.

I needed to make a decision soon, and quietly too.

“Think about it.” Professor Igor said, his lips widening in a smile. “If you maintain your grade until the end of the semester, your probation recommendation would be withdrawn.”

Until the end of the semester.

Even though the semester just started, I couldn't stand losing my Number One spot on the NHL draft pick just because of a course that would barely add to my career.

“Who's the tutor?” I finally asked.

Professor Igor smiled lightly, almost proudly. “The best student in the Business department.” 

I scoffed. “Another honor student who would look down on me.” 

“She has a one hundred percent pass rate.” He added. 

“I've had several tutors before.” I muttered, “What makes her different?”

“Every athlete she had tutored passed,” he said, and rose from his seat and placed his hand around the handle of his briefcase, pulling it closer to him.

“If you check the program arrangement, you'll see all that it entails.” He said and started walking towards the exit. “You have 48 hours to make a choice.”

Well fuck me.

I tucked the file beneath my arm and walked out of the lecture hall.

The whispers followed me through the business building, across the courtyard, all the way to the parking lot.

“He's the one. Gavin West.”

“The one she kissed.”

My key fob beeped once. My matte black Lamborghini revuelto flashed its headlights before the door unlocked. 

More whispers erupted behind me as I threw my backpack to the passenger side before I slid behind the wheel.

People always stare for different reasons.

Some stared because of my last name, while others stared because of my position on the hockey team and my personality.

Today, they stare because a girl had kissed me in front of the whole team.

I took in a deep breath as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Forty-eight hours. 

That was how long I had before I lost everything I'd spent my entire life working for.

As I drove through the school, speeding toward the highway, my phone dinged inside my pocket.

I reached for it and arched my eyebrows.

Coach Andrian.

“COME TO THE ARENA.” The text says. I sighed and tricked my phone back into my pocket.

Another lecture on how I would lose my eligibility and everything I had worked for if I refuse to step up.

I tappe

d my fingers on the wheel continuously as I drove towards the arena.

Getting tutored two hours a day or so should not be that bad. Right?