The Hardest Fall

“Hit it.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Hit it?”

“Yes. Come on, don’t leave me hanging. Buddies occasionally do fist bumps.”

When I wasn’t fast enough because I was busy trying to figure out how she had come into my life out of nowhere and how I was going to survive her, she gave her little fist a shake and tilted her head, pointing at it with her eyes, urging me to…hit it.

So, I fist-bumped my new friend and laughed all the way through it.

What else could I have done?

* * *

After I left the apartment and met up with the guys, we pushed through a three-hour practice. Not everyone on the team was happy about getting their asses kicked every day, but I wasn’t one of them. At least fall camp was over; it had been…ruthless, to say the least.

More than a handful of times, I had come face to face with both Kyle and Maxwell and had managed to ignore them just fine. On the field, I had to be their teammate, but as soon as we stepped off that green turf, I didn’t know them. I was getting better at compartmentalizing.

The second practice was over and we were walking to the showers, sweat literally dripping off of our bodies, JP started in on me. It went on for ten minutes, even during the showers, and by the time we made it into the locker room, he still hadn’t stopped.

“Don’t lie to me, man. Where are you staying?”

“For the hundredth time, I found a new roommate. I’m fine, chill out.”

“Where did you find him?”

I looked up at the ceiling and let out a breath. “Online.” No sense in telling him she was a, well…a she and not a he.

“You just went online and moved in with some random dude? Why? Are you too good for my air mattress?”

“I really can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but just to let you know…you snore, man. It’s okay when we’re staying in a hotel for away games—I can handle it for a night or two, but for a year…”

His arms crossed over his chest and gave me one of the perfected fuck you looks he usually reserved for referees. He continued to stare down at me, trying his best to catch something from my expression. His damn mouth opened yet again, but I shook my head. “If you ask me one more time, I’m gonna make you regret it.”

“What’s going on?” Chris asked as he walked straight out of the showers and into our little huddle.

I yanked my sweatpants up and sat my ass back down on the bench.

JP turned all his attention to our starting quarterback. “Do you know? Because if you do and you’re not telling me, I swear to God, Chris—”

Apparently getting his ass kicked out on the field hadn’t been enough for him. He was asking for seconds.

Frowning, Chris looked at me and then at JP. “What the hell are you talking about? I just came in.”

“Fighter boy over here has a mysterious new roommate and he’s being all weird about it,” JP announced.

Not even bothering to lift my head up, I reached for my shirt. “If anyone is being weird around here, trust me, it’s you.”

“He’s not staying with you?” Chris broke in, ignoring my words. “I thought he was staying with you. Where are you staying, man?”

Groaning, I stood up and pulled my shirt down my stomach. “Are you two fucking kidding me right now? I swear to God, if either one of you asks me where I’m staying or if I’m doing okay again, I’m gonna beat your asses.”

“Do you see how defensive he’s getting?” JP asked Chris. “He’s still…”

Tuning them out, I reached for my phone when it started vibrating in my pocket. Chris went to his own locker, two down to my right, and started to put on his clothes, all the while going back and forth with JP about my ‘situation’.

I opened my text and saw it was from Victoria. I ignored it, just as I’d been doing with all her I want to talk to you texts, and pushed the phone back into my pocket. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I walked away from the guys.

“I’m out of here. If you two ever end up finding your balls, you can find me at the food court. I skimped on breakfast so I’m starving.” I turned around and kept walking backward, leveling a death stare at JP. “Don’t even come near me if you’re planning on asking more questions.”

“Do you wanna go for In-N-Out?” Chris yelled before I could make it out.

It was always hard to be careful with my diet and especially to say no to cheeseburgers, but I didn’t want to miss my class, so this time it was an easy choice. There was also the fact that I always had to be careful with money if I wanted to keep sending some back home. Not having to pay rent would help with that. “Can’t today. I have a class at two then a study session around five. You two go on without me.”

“We’ll see you at Jack’s place tonight?” JP yelled as I pushed open the door. Jack was our kicker.

“I’ll text you if I can make it.”

When I slammed the door shut and rounded the corner, I could still hear JP shouting after me.

I had taken only a few steps when I heard a loud thump echo in the quiet building.

A brunette caught my eye as she exited one of the meeting rooms at the other end of the hall. I only realized who it was when she whipped her hair back while holding the door open for someone. Coach walked out next, right on Zoe’s heels. Both of their shoulders were stiff, and neither of them looked particularly happy as they moved as far away from each other as they could get. Coach’s face turned toward her and I saw his lips move. Even though I was walking toward them, there was no way I could catch up before they made it to the lobby and exited the complex. I didn’t notice Zoe replying to Coach, but I noticed her posture stiffen even more. He turned around and disappeared into the team viewing room. Zoe picked up her pace, passed the trophy displays without lifting her gaze from the ground, and walked out…unaware that I had stopped moving and was standing completely still, full of questions.

Chapter Eight

Zoe

The weekend after Dylan and I made the bet passed in the blink of an eye. His team won their second game, which I heard about from Jared, and the whole campus was buzzing with the sweet taste of victory. Me? Not so much.

I had watched the first half of the game before heading out to meet up with Jared, and even though I didn’t know much about football—I had a hard time following where ball the was, who had the damn ball, who tackled who, who lost the ball, who caught the ball, etc.—even I could see that Dylan became a whole other person out on field. At least, with my limited football knowledge, I thought so. His movements were sharper. He seemed super focused, super attractive, super aggressive—in a hot way, not in a Hulk way. Did I mention super attractive? He was super strong, super fast—the guy could run—and again, just in case you weren’t following, super attractive. I was very appreciative of it as a viewer. It was probably the uniform and those damn shoulder pads that made him look like a sexy beast. Even the black face paint under his eyes that was supposed make him look ridiculous did the exact opposite. He looked like a warrior out on that field.

Obviously…obviously it would be a lie if I said it wasn’t hot as fuck to watch him play. When he made his first touchdown—a forty-five-yard run, according to the announcers—I was all caught up in the excitement and did a little jump in my seat with the biggest grin on my face. I laughed when all his teammates rushed over to him as he did a little dance with his hips and they bumped chests and fists—see! Friends do fist bumps all the time. Then I saw number five run toward him—Chris. He hooked an arm around his neck as they pushed each other around, and my heart warmed at the sight. When the camera panned to the face of their coach as he paced the sideline, I turned the TV off.