Chapter One - Zander
As I rush from the gym to my first class, I’ll admit I’m anxious. Not only am I on the verge of being late, but today we’re getting our first paper back. I must pass this class and the next to graduate, but with the season well underway to get us back into the championships the pressure is on.
Usually, when pressure builds, I handle it. I’m an excellent multi-tasker and always keep my eye on the prize. But in this particular class, when the pressure hits—so does my dyslexia. Give me numbers, I’m your man. I easily pass advanced math courses in my sleep. Make me read articles on psychological studies and write ten-page essays, yeah not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I can do them, but I need extended time—which is something I’m short on with extra practices, watching tape of my competitors, and keeping up with my other courses.
Since freshman year, I’ve had a tutor who reads all course material that isn’t already digital aloud for me. I can read, but I process and retain text at a much faster pace if it’s read aloud as well—especially when I’m stressed. But Cameron, the lucky bastard he is, graduated last term and is eagerly starting his new life in Seattle. I wish him the best, but he picked one heck of a time to up and move away. We had a great system and I’ve been able to pull top grades—he not only helped with reading, but he talked me through my thoughts before I wrote each of my papers.
I’m hoping I won’t need a tutor. There’s only one class, in particular, I’ll require assistance with this term—psychology. I’ve spread out my heavy reading courses over the last three years keeping my load manageable—but somehow this class was missed. I need this course and another psychology class, to graduate. With it only being offered this semester, I can’t put it off.
I’ve spent days working on this paper. I think I managed my time well, but after a while, the statistics and specific facts may have gotten the better of me. I guess I laid my cards on the table, and the chips will fall where they may. But if things go the way I fear, I won’t have time to waiver. I’ll need to suck up my pride by reaching out to the learning center for support. Hopefully, I can meet with a new tutor sooner than later.
“Hey, Z, what’s up?” comes from a familiar voice, causing me to stop in my tracks.
It doesn’t take long to place the greeting from DeShawn. Together, we stand a full head taller than most of the students on campus here at Columbia River University. He and I have been playing ball together since freshman year. Over the last three years, he’s also become one of my closest friends on the team. He, Grey, Drew, Tre, and I make up the starting five at CRU. We have to be in sync both on and off the court if we want another championship this season. There’s almost nothing I won’t do for this man, so of course, I stop and greet him.
“Hey, man. I’m off to class over in Deacon Hall. You’re welcome to walk with me, but we gotta keep movin’.”
Nodding, DeShawn grins. “I’m heading that way. What time are you done today?”
“I’ve got class until three. Then I’m meeting with a trainer to work on keeping my shoulder up when I shoot from my non-dominant hand.”
Nodding, DeShawn grins. “Alright. We need you in top shape if we’re gonna get CRU another championship this season.”
“That’s the plan.” I won’t say more than that, as I’m not about to jinx us. The eyes of the nation are waiting to see how we’ll come back after that amazing win last season and I prefer to just focus on one game at a time as we make our way through this season.
“Grey and I are grabbing dinner at the Thai restaurant next to campus, wanna join us?”
“Where’s Drew?” I ask of their other roommate. Those three are usually thick as thieves.
DeShawn shrugs as if I should know. “He’s studying—what do you expect?”
Drew’s been applying to med schools all around the country and we’re all proud of him. But that doesn’t mean we don’t throw shade his way to give him a hard time. “Should’ve known. I’d rather stop by your place for his cookin’ but if he’s busy, I guess Thai will work.”
No joke, if Drew wasn’t set on being a doctor, the man should open his own restaurant. I’d gladly eat at his place over any restaurant in town. But I’d rather hang with my boys than eat in the dining hall on campus, despite the fact that athletes get one heck of a meal plan.
When we arrive at Deacon Hall, I nod in the direction of my class. “I’ll text you when I’m done with the trainer.”
“Sounds good, man. See ya then.”
And with that, I take the stairs two at a time rushing into the building. I land in my seat and press record on my audio device just as Professor Easton begins her lecture. Though I’d prefer the back of the room, I typically sit up front to get better sound quality when I review lectures later.
As she begins her lecture about a case of a woman with factitious disorder imposed by another or FDIA as she calls it—she explains that it was formerly called Munchausen syndrome by proxy. I’m disgusted that an innocent child was abused in such a way to gain attention for their guardian. There is zero excuse for child abuse, and hearing about this case makes my gut roil. I doubt I’ll have to listen to this lecture again as it’s seared into my memory. I seriously don’t understand how people like this can keep their children. I’m so engrossed in our class discussion, the hour passes by before I know it.
Just as it’s about to end, the professor announces, “I’ve got your latest papers. Once you receive it, you’re welcome to leave. Remember my office hours are on Tuesdays and Thursdays at two. Stop by or drop me a message and I’ll be happy to discuss any concerns you may have.”
I watch as she and her TA pass out the papers. Eventually, mine lands on my desk face-down as Professor Easton grimaces.
This can’t be a good sign.
Sighing heavily, I know the best course of action is to just rip off the Band-Aid.
Sure enough—there on the top of the page in bright blue ink is a large D.
This just won’t do.
But I have no one to blame but myself.
It’s time to put my pride aside and ask the coach who’s set me up before for help. Hopefully, someone can fit my busy schedule into theirs. With the semester already underway, I just hope I’m not too late.
Chapter Two - Ari
Learning CTR: Zander Williams will meet you at the main campus library at 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning and study room 3-B has been reserved. Let me know if you have any questions. – Tamara
I’m not sure how many times I’ve read this text. When I agreed to work from eight to five each weekend, I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d be taken up on the offer. I mean, what college student in their right mind gets up this early to study on a Saturday? Thank goodness I didn’t go home this weekend because I can really use the extra cash from this last-minute add to my schedule. My best friend’s getting married and we’re taking a girls’ trip later this month before her big day.
Zander Williams.
The world must be playing a cruel joke on me.
There must be another Zander Williams on campus, right?
This can’t be the star basketball player who’s hot as sin but has a reputation for being a player both on and off the court.
There’s no way he would need my help.
Sure, I’m a fan of basketball. I also happen to know most of the team’s stats because I’m typically the scorekeeper at home games. Not only do I get court-side seats, but it keeps me involved in a game I love. I play basketball myself, but I’m by no means good enough for a D-1 school, so I’ve joined a rec league here on campus.
I’m a fan of his game on the court, though not of him personally. Until recently, I’ve been in a long-term relationship so I’ve never dealt with him on a personal level, but I’ve watched plenty from the sidelines as he’s gone through a gaggle of women over his three years here at Columbia River. Don’t get me started on the pranks he and his buddies pull on one another. Thank God, I’ve never let myself get close enough to be the butt of one of their jokes.
Glancing at my clock, I’m disappointed to find my time is running out on my peaceful morning. I’ve got twenty minutes to drive on campus and be at the library. Normally, I’d walk but it’s a damp and dreary spring day in the Pacific Northwest, so instead I’ll just park in the underground garage. Sighing, I dump what’s left of my coffee in the sink, then quickly rinse my cup and place it in the dishwasher. I’ve already had my quota and I’m just not feeling it today.
With eight minutes to spare, I easily spot Zander already waiting just under the overhang of the building staying out of the rain. Being six-seven, he stands out in any crowd, but as the campus is deserted at this hour, he’s the only one in sight. His face is buried in his phone, so I use this opportunity to take him in.
He’s wearing long black athletic pants that fit his sculpted muscles perfectly. I’ve seen him enough times to know what he’s got hiding underneath. He’s also wearing an oversized CRU sweatshirt and sneakers similar to what the players wear off the court after practices.
When I stop right in front of him, he looks up from his phone and grins.
Before he can utter a word, I quickly introduce myself. “Hi, Zander, I’m Ari. Has the library opened yet?”
“Ari?” Zander’s jaw drops as he looks me up and down. Not in an, I’m checking you out way, but more out of confusion.
“Yes?”
Suddenly he shakes his head and stands to his full height. “Sorry. Coach said a guy was meeting me this morning and I wasn’t expecting… well, you.”
Cocking my head to the side, I meet his eyes. “Will that be a problem?”
Zander visibly appears as if he’s backpedaling and if I wasn’t slightly annoyed by his question, I’d almost laugh at how his expression morphs from confused to quickly sputtering, “No… not at all. That’s what I get for making assumptions. I… uh have no problem with you being my tutor, I was just expecting a dude. All I was given is your first name and since my last tutor was… well… that’s not the point. The point is I’m sorry I mistook you for someone else. That’s totally on me.”
Huh. That’s unexpected.
“Well, I’m Ariadne—but I’ll only ever answer to Ari as no one ever pronounces my given name right. My mom was a huge Greek mythology buff. She met my dad during a semester abroad in London and with their love of literature—whelp, here I am.”
“Is your dad British?”
“Nope. He’s actually from Tunisia. He was there on business and when Mom’s visa expired, they relocated here.”
Geez… why did I just give him my entire backstory?
Slowly Zander says, “Ar-ree-ad-nee. That’s not so hard. It’s a beautiful name and it suits you.”
Why did the way his lips curl at the end make my belly flip?
Nope. Shut this down. You’ve already said too much.
Jutting out my chin to prove a point, I quickly speak before what-ever-the-hell I was feeling just then can have any merit. “Well, it’s Ari – like Are-ree. No need to worry about my given name. I’m only called Ariadne by solicitors and when I’m in trouble so let’s stick with Ari, got it?”
With a quick nod of his head, his smile disappears. “Got it.” Then he turns to the door when the distinct sound of the bar unlocks. “You ready to get started?” Leaning in, he reaches for the handle and opens it for me and I walk through it.
Wordlessly, I walk into the library and head straight to the study rooms. I’m familiar with room 3-B, but the moment Zander enters the room with me, it’s suddenly much smaller than I remember. The ventilation must not be working either as the room fills with his scent and it’s all I can do to focus on the task at hand.
As he sits in the middle of one side of the long wooden table, I quickly walk around to sit across from him. There’s a total of six chairs around this table as it’s a room meant for groups. By the time I grab my laptop and notebook, I find Zander has his notebooks, voice recorder, and laptop out as well.
Just as I place my pen on my notebook, Zander’s deep voice fills the room as his dark brown eyes pin mine in place. “So that we don’t waste anyone’s time, why don’t I tell you what I’ll need help with the most. You see, I have dyslexia. I can read and write, but my processing speed when I’m stressed out slows down even further than usual. I typically record lectures as well as my study sessions with my tutor, so I can go back and listen to everything before assignments as well as assessments. Do you mind if I turn this on?” He points to his digital voice recorder.
“No. Go ahead.”
Smiling, he continues, “Thanks. Since freshman year, I’ve had the same tutor. We had a system that kept me on top of my grades and sometimes even at the top of my classes.”
Cautiously, I ask, “What did that entail?”
“Honestly, my working memory kicks ass. If I can hear things once, I typically remember it. But when I’m stressed—which let’s face it I am—during basketball season, it takes me longer to read and retain information. I’m not dumb. But I’m man enough to know I need help from time to time, too.”
Zander’s bluntness about his disability tugs at my heartstrings and I wonder if I’ve misjudged him.
“What exactly do you need me to help you with? Is it the content for your psychology class or something else?”
Zander’s long intake of breath is all that can be heard as he leans forward, placing his elbows on the table, and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth in a fist. “Look, like I said. This isn’t something I spend a lot of time talking about but I’ve got a game later today and I need to get my focus on that, sooner than later. By the way, thanks again for meeting with me on such short notice. If you don’t mind my schedule is a little chaotic, so hopefully we’ll find times that work for both of us.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question. What exactly do you need… from me?”
Rolling his eyes, his lips form a small grin, then he exhales heavily. “In the past here’s what’s worked. I’m good with any content that’s already in digital form and lectures as I record them. What I need help with is having someone read the additional text assigned that isn’t already in digital format. It also helps when someone walks me through my assignments and helps formulate my thoughts before I complete them. I thought I could do it on my own, but this D on my first paper proved otherwise,” he says as he points at his closed folder. “I can’t have grades like this and play. Thankfully, I aced the quiz last week so my overall grade isn’t in the toilet, but I must do better.”
“That seems easy enough. Where should we start today?”
He pulls out his course syllabus along with two articles that he’s already printed. I take a moment to familiarize myself with them. I haven’t worked with this professor in particular, but as I took the class last year, I’m confident I can help.
“Okay, let’s start by going over what your next assignment is, then I’ll read these case studies before we leave.”
“I’d like to say I’m not usually in such a rush, but I won’t lie to you. I’m due at the coliseum in less than two hours and I’m not sure how far we’ll get. Would you mind giving me your number so we can meet up another day as well? I need to nail this so I can make up for my idiotic attempt last week.”
Zander’s no-nonsense approach to his studies is a breath of fresh air. Typically, I get involved once a student is severely behind and pride gets in their way, so every excuse known to man as to why they’re behind in the first place is made. I respect his proactive stance and I’m eager to help.
“I think that can be arranged.”
We spend the next twenty minutes going over the expectations for his next paper. Not only is it a ten-page paper, but his sources won’t easily be found in audio format—as it’s centered around case studies from years ago. It involves a group of children and their biological basis of human social behavior—which essentially means his paper is about the start of developmental psychology. In our limited time, we get through one article and we discuss how he can use it in his paper.
When I realize the next article is over twenty pages long, I quickly suggest meeting again. “I’m not sure we’ll get through this one and get you to your game on time. I’m free in the morning if you’re available. Then we can give this all the time it deserves.”
“I’ve got a workout with the guys, but I’ll have time afterward. I typically spend Sundays studying. Wanna meet here again?”
“The library doesn’t open until noon, but I’m only available until three.” I’ve got a fitting for my bridesmaid dress at four. We should be done by then.
“Noon works for me. Thanks,” he says on a nod as he gathers his papers. “I don’t mean to cut this short, but if I don’t get my head in my game soon, coach will have my ass.” Standing he stops to look me in the eye. “I mean it, Ari, thank you. I really couldn’t do this without you.”
I nod in understanding, still dumbfounded, and in awe of Zander’s bluntness. The way his eyes pin mine, I easily get caught up in them. He may come off cocky and arrogant, but now that I’m getting to know him, I’m fairly certain I’ve misjudged him.
Just as he reaches the door, my manners kick in. “Good luck today.”
Stopping in his tracks, his head swivels as a grin spreads across his face. “I’ll take all the luck I can get. Thanks again, Ari. See you tomorrow.”
* * *
The team has been on fire since the game started. Energy radiates through the coliseum as CRU stacks points on the board. The Huskies are giving us a run for our money, but each and every time they pull ahead, CRU comes back with a vengeance. The boys are in sync and it’s beyond beautiful to watch.
From the moment Zander entered the court for warm-ups, he’s held my attention. Maybe it’s because I spent time with him earlier today, but I’m not sure there’s a move he’s made yet that I haven’t been aware of.
Which is crazy.
I mean, I’ve never paid him any attention before, so why is he all I can think about now?
I’m brought out of my revelry when Zander suddenly steals the ball and makes a fast break for the net. Number forty stays hot on his trail and almost tips the ball as Zander pulls up short and lands a perfect jump shot instead of the expected lay-up.
The crowd roars, and for a fleeting second, I see a quick smile with a nod of his head in celebration. But that’s all. The moment the ball is thrown in and back in play, he’s focused on his next move as he sprints down the court.
The man is in his zone.
Zander’s by far not the leading scorer for this game, as Drew is crushing it. But his points come when they matter most. Besides, there’s no stopping him when he makes a break for it.
When the final buzzer sounds, the walls shake with the enthusiasm of the crowd as the announcer booms, “And just like that, Columbia River University has done it again!”
What he doesn’t say is that we’re one step closer to the division title.
Not one student will speak that thought aloud. We’re proud of our team, but we refuse to jinx them either. It’s a long road to even make it into the sweet sixteen. Nope—our team takes it one game at a time, as they keep their focus on beating our next opponent.
After fist-bumping Aaron, the official timekeeper, I put away the equipment the best I can, then gather my things to leave. By the time I’m done, the players are in locker rooms and the stands have cleared out.
Even though I spent the entire game at center court and Zander passed me several times, not once did he notice me. He nodded once to Aaron when he was subbed back in during the first part of the second half, but I may as well have been invisible.
Is he really that arrogant, or was his attention so focused on the game that he truly didn’t see me?
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