Page 63 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
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Slade
Ifeltbad for missing the morning time slot to hand in the project, but I felt damn good about getting this project write-up finished, just like I’d told Cassidy. A lot had suffered because of this restaurant gig, but I walked into the business school about an hour before the cut-off time, and with a damn good piece of work as a final write-up in my hand.
Cassidy was sitting at one of the tables as I walked through the cafeteria, nursing a coffee as usual. I hadn’t done a good job of keeping her in the loop, or returning calls or texts from her. With all of my other commitments, I had to keep tight control over my time to get this work done and keep up with everything else. Cassidy of all people needed to understand that. I saw the angry yet aloof expression on her face and decided I had a lot of making up to do after the SECs were over.
I was still spooked about the way my chest would clench up when I was with her, and this gut sense that I had to have her. I couldn’t fight it, though, so I figured maybe this was the real deal. I cared about her, and she’d been so patient with me. It was time to step up and let her know what was on my mind.
Walking up to the table where she sat, I proudly handed her my write-up.
She looked at the paper then up at me. “What’s this?”
“What do you think it is? It’s the write-up. I did it, just like I promised.”
She flipped through it without reading it. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come through with it.”
“I told you I would.”
“That’s rich.”
“Just read it.” I was pretty sure it was solid.
She looked at me over the paper. “I did the write-up too.”
“What? Why’d you do that for?”
“Because I need to get a decent grade. You never answered my texts and I’m just supposed to believe you’ll show up and have it ready?”
“It’s not my problem that you can’t trust me. Anyway, just read it.”
“We don’t have time now. It has to be handed in before this hour’s up.”
“So start reading. I’m sure you and I looked at this from different angles, so we can hand them both in.”
“You should have had this to me sooner.”
“See that’s the difference between you and me. I don’t have to see you every second to trust that you’re doing what you say you are.”
“That’s low, even for you.”
“And you think you’ve been fair?” She wasn’t happy, but hell, I was tired of her writing me off as some lazy ass jock who didn’t pull my own weight.
She let out a breath and passed me the write-up she had done. “Here’s what I did when I never heard back from you. I’ll read yours while you look at mine.”
“Cassidy—” I started, but she silenced me by holding up a hand.
“I’m reading. You should be doing the same.”
I took a seat and took a look. It wasn’t surprising. Her work was concise, well written, and backed up with data. Just like the pitch, it was detached and factual, demonstrating her analytical style, which again illustrated the differences in our individual approaches to the project. I liked it, but it would be that much better if it included what I had put together.
She looked up from my paper. “This is great. I like how engaging it is. You did a great job summarizing the high points like the benefits and long term gains for the broader shelter community.”
“Just like yours has the concrete analytical stuff. Dr. Taylor wants to see both. He’ll get both with our joint content.”
“Okay. We can turn them both in.”
I nodded. “Put mine at the back so we can close with a little excitement.”
