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I tilt my head toward the booth, where the emotions seem to have settled down. Nadia glances over at me and my heart skips a goddamn beat. Whatever they’re discussing needs to wrap up soon. I’m ready to be out and proud with my girl.

“By the way,” I say to Reese, as I start across the bar, “you owe me a box of condoms. I’m gonna need them.”

17

Nadia

“Sorry I’m late.”I shove my bag under the front counter. “I stopped to grab a coffee and the line took forever.”

“It’s fine,” Abby says. She’s sitting in front of the main computer, entering data. “It took me twenty minutes to find a parking spot this morning. They keep closing lots for all the construction.”

I remove my coat and stuff it next to the bag. “I swear this campus gets more crowded every year.”

“That’s what happens when you have multiple championship teams. It happens every time we have an impressive season, like the football and hockey team have had over the last few years.”

“Are you saying people pick a college based on sports and not academics?”

She laughs. “I’m definitely saying that. Why do you think the school spends more on the athletic programs than anything else?” She nods toward the back of the gym. “It also doesn’t hurt to have guys like that walking around campus.”

I follow her gesture and see a couple of guys lifting weights in the back corner. I don’t know what or who I expected, but the flip flop of my gut is instantaneous when I realize it’s Axel. He’s in one of those T-shirts the guys at the gym wear with the arms and neck cut out for more room. His arm muscles flex as he goes through a set of bicep curls.

I haven’t seen him since the night before, when we “went official” at the bar to Twyler and everyone else. After her initial freak-out, she’d handled it pretty well, but I thought it may be best for Axel and I to stay at our own places that night. Give everyone a minute to acclimate to us as a couple.

Givemyselfa minute to acclimate to having Axel Rakestraw as a boyfriend.

“You know him right?” Abby asks.

“Yeah, I do. We’re uh…” I don’t have to look to know he’s staring at me. I feel it and my skin gets warm and hot, “friends.”

Okay, I guess maybe I haven’t fully acclimated.

“I need more friends like that,” she says, then catches herself, “you know, if they were four years older.” Her eyebrow raises. “Does he have an older brother?”

I grab the bottle of antibacterial spray and a clean rag. “Just a sister–younger.” A sister he seems to care a lot about. I’m curious about Axel’s family–the dynamic seems intense. My family isn’t religious, no more than hitting the big holidays at our local methodist church. Although he and his father seem miles apart, it’s also not completely impossible to reconcile Axel with the charismatic man I’ve seen clips of online.

Twyler had asked me where this relationship was going–was it long term. I told her that we were dating for now. Axel was honest with me about his future plans–how he’ll go home to Texas to minister with his father. But I can tell it weighs on him, a conflict he’s carrying if he doesn’t want to fully admit it. I know athletes, and Axel is good. He has what it takes to go pro, butonly if he wants it. That’s what I can’t discern about him. Does he want it? Because what I’ve learned about him is that he’s a man that goes after what he wants.

He pursued the hell out of me.

I struggle to reconcile that with the man covered in tattoos–including the letters YOLO on his fingers. He doesn’t seem like the type to compromise.

“I’m going to go wipe down the machines.”

“Thanks but first, can you do me a favor?”

“He really doesn’t have a brother, Abs, I promise.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, that’s not the favor.”

“What’s up?”

“There’s a prospective student tour coming through in about fifteen minutes. They’d be thrilled to see a star Badger in action,” she explains. “Will you ask if he’ll stick around? Maybe even talk to the group? If I can get a picture I can submit it to the social media page.”

The campus tours make a stop at the gym every day–it’s a big selling feature for the university. “Yeah, sure, I can ask him.”

With my bottle of cleaner and rag, I cross the gym over to where he’s moved away from the other guys and is sitting under the leg press machine–mid press. His shorts slide down, revealing his thighs and god, they’re thick and muscular from all that hockey.

“Hey,” he says, grunting as he lowers the weight. Sweat beads on his forehead and he lifts the hem of his shirt, wiping his forehead, showing his slick abs. “I was hoping you’d come by.”