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“Hayden. Yes.” Reeve points at me. “That’s your girl. It would be never-ending blow jobs through the whole recovery.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Get your mind right, man.”

“No, I’m serious. It would get the blood flowing, speed up healing, all that shit. Instead of lying around stagnant for a week.”

“He’s not wrong,” Cash says. “You’re too high-minded about these girls, Lor. You want to take them to nice dinners and ask them questions and figure them out like there’s some big mystery to them when—spoiler alert—there isn’t. They don’t want that.”

“What are you even talking about?” I ask. “I’m trying to figure out who’s gonna stay with me after surgery, and you’re over here lecturing me about how not to respect girls.”

When it comes to girls, most of my friends are at one end of the spectrum or the other: hooking up with any rando with a decent ass or settling down with a long-term girlfriend. Somehow I always end up in the messy middle. I’m not looking to commit to anyone. But hookups aren’t exactly my thing. I’ve learned the hard way I need to know what I’m getting into before I have sex—too many times, I’ve found out too late the girl I slept with wanted more from me than I could give or less from me than I was hoping to give or wasn’t even single in the first place. But avoiding that mess takes getting to know girls a little bit, which makes it harder to just fuck and walk away like it never happened. Add to that not partying much anymore and yeah ... somehow it’s never cut-and-dried with me and girls.

Cash bends over my burrito bowl, the chain he wears around his neck pooling on the table. “I’m saying let Hayden or whichever one of those girls you’re into take care of you. These chicks would push each other in front of a bus just to be the one to pick you up from the hospital, and you don’t want to ask any of them because you think it’s degrading or something.”

“I don’t want to ask any of them because I don’t want any of those girls in my space. The jersey-chaser bimbo schtick is so old.”

“It’s not a schtick,” Cash insists.

“I’d help you if I wasn’t heading out of town tomorrow,” Reeve says.

“Lor, you know I’d take care of you if you couldn’t find someone, right?” Cash asks.

“Yeah, man. Appreciate it.”

“Just don’t be surprised if I use the opportunity to extract revenge on you for kissing my sister freshman year.”

Reeve and I look at each other and bust out laughing.

“What?” Cash asks.

“Have you ever read a book?” Reeve says. “It’sexactrevenge.” He turns to me. “Dude, you are not seriously about to let this fucking bonehead nurse our star middle linebacker back to health, are you?”

I shrug, grinning at Cash’s confused expression.

“That’s it, I’m calling Ruby.” Reeve pulls out his phone.

“Relax,” I say. “Mr. Extract is off the hook. I have other options without bugging Ruby.”

“Like who?” Reeve asks.

I think, but no one comes to mind.

“You could ask Alli,” Reeve offers. To a chorus of crickets. “We all know she’d do it.”

“No?” Cash asks.

“Might as well be a marriage proposal in Alli’s mind,” I say flatly.

Cash eyes me. “You think you’ll get back together?”

“No,” I say quickly. She’s been bugging me about getting dinner ever since she’s been back from France, and I’ve been avoiding it because I know that’s exactly the topic she’s going to bring up.

Reeve smiles. “Man, you better get your shit together.”

“It is. I just said no.”

“Does she know that?”

“Well, we broke up months ago, and I’ve never once hinted at getting back together. So yeah, she knows. Whether she wants to accept it is another thing.”