Noah
I've been in trouble before. Every athlete has, at some point, some noise complaint or a stern talking-to after a party got too loud. I've never been summoned to the president's office at seven in the morning with a split eyebrow and a text from my own coach that just says *don't say anything until I get there.*
I get there first. I sit in the hallway outside the president's office with an ice pack pressed to my eye, and five minutes later Ethan walks in looking just as wrecked as I feel, jaw bruised, lip split, one eye swollen enough that he's squinting even in the dim hallway light. We don't say anything to each other. There's nothing left to say that wouldn't get us in more trouble than we're already in.
The office is full when they finally call us in. President Whitfield behind
