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Then the front door opened to a shirtless Reese Cain, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that seemed to be holding on to his hips by sheer will.

When I agreed to stay to eat a slice of pizza and watch one episode of “I Didn’t Mean to Join a Cult,” I meant it. That was two episodes ago and the pizza is long gone. Ninety percent eaten by Reese, but still, I had two slices.

I’d panicked when Coach Green called me into his office this morning. I was embarrassed and terrified I was about to lose everything I’d worked so hard for the past few years. So when Reese cornered me in the storage closet, I was willing to do whatever it took to save my position. Including telling him that we were done.

It’s not like he needs me anymore. As far as I know Shanna has left him alone, and his little ploy at the animal shelter worked. Before we left that day, Logan got my number and we’ve been texting all week, sharing our favorite songs from The New Kings, and getting to know one another.

But after seeing the hurt expression in his eye as I told him it was over, and then tending to his injury during the game, I had a long bus ride home to think about everything. First of all, fuck Coach Green. Would he tell a male intern he couldn’t become friendly with members of the team? I don’t think so. Reese and I are friends. We work together. Who gives a fuck if we hang out and watch documentaries and eat pizza? How is that different from any other friendship?

The friend in question shifts next to me, adjusting the melting ice pack against his side. The bruise is a mess, but I agree that I don’t think it’s anything serious. The movement draws my eyes to the hard-packed muscle of his abdomen, and the fine line of dark hair that vanishes under his waistband.

Get a grip, I tell myself. Reese is abnormally attractive. It’s normal to get a sweaty, fluttery feeling in your lower belly when faced with a body like his. I’m reacting like any other female would.

I refocus on the screen, where this small man in wire-framed glasses talks endlessly to his followers.

“This guy is a douche,” Reese says, fingers absently scratching his lower belly. “Nothing he says makes sense. It’s like gobbledygook.”

I laugh at the word and the irritated expression on his face. “It must make sense to those people; they can’t get enough of it.” The camera passes over one of his followers. “That girl said she gave him ten thousand dollars and had to live in her car because she couldn’t afford her rent.”

He presses pause. “Did you ever see the people that lived over in that community just off campus? Serendipity or something?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sit up. “Serendee. Every time I walked past their office or whatever, they tried to get me to come in for a free class.”

“Definite cult vibes. All the girls wore those weird, old-fashioned dresses and had the same long hair.” He lifts his chin. “You know, Axel used to buy his weed from one guy and he’d show up at parties. He was scary as fuck.”

If Reese was intimidated, they must have left an impression. “I heard they got shut down. Tax evasion or something.”

“I heard the same thing.” His lips twitch. “Guess we’ll have to wait for the documentary to find out what really happened.”

“You know,” I say, leaning back on the couch, “Nadia took a couple of their classes. She kind of bought into it until they pushed a whole celibacy thing.”

“Seriously?” he asks, looking away from the TV and over at me. “How are things going with her?”

“Okay, I guess. The other day we had a civil conversation about the grocery list.”

“I guess that’s a start.”

“I just want her to acknowledge what she did was a dick move, you know?” My anger has dissipated, and now I’m just more sad than anything else. He nods and I continue, “She’s sleeping at the house a little more—at least when she’s not hooking up with Brent Reynolds.”

He snorts. “He’ll get bored soon. Trust me. We go to the football parties sometimes and I’ve never seen him with the same girl more than once.”

“I know!” I cry, hating how frustrated I feel. “I’ve told her a dozen times that if a guy doesn’t want to be seen with you during the day, he’s only looking for a booty call.”

Reese’s lip quirks. “What do you know about booty calls?”

I roll my eyes. “I know that when a guy calls you to come over after midnight it’s just for sex.” He grins and curiosity gets the best of me. “Have you ever done that?”

“Sure, a few times in the last year, mostly when we got home from a game too late to go out.” He shrugs. “But everyone involved knows the deal going into it, which makes it cool.” He gives me a pointed look. “Even Nadia. She knows what she’s getting into with a guy like Reynolds.”

“I know,” I grumble. “She, and all the other girls that think they have a chance with you, choose ignorance.”

He shifts, and the couch cushion sinks under his weight, drawing our knees toward each other. “What about you, Sunshine? Any desperate late-night calls from guys asking you for a hookup?”

My jaw drops. “God, no.”

“Not even the ex? What’s his name? Eric?”

“Ethan. And no.” I lean my shoulder into the couch cushion. “But just to put it out there,” warmth spreads over every inch of my body, “I’m not a virgin.”