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I scoff. “No, I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if she was there. But I’m not going for her.” Lies.

“Okay, buddy. Keep telling yourself that. You know, it’s okay to like someone as more than just a fuck.”

Shaking my head, I turn to walk into the living room and toward the front door. My favorite cowboy hat sits on a hook in the entryway, so I head over to grab it. I brush the hair back from my face and put the hat on. It’s a hat night.

“Arch, you know I’m just fucking with you,” he yells from the kitchen.

I sigh and walk back into the kitchen. Pitz looks at me.

“Look, if you’re coming with me, let’s roll.”

“Okay, give me five. I just need to change my shirt. A pepperoni fell off my slice and the grease stained it.” He pulls his shirt off as he walks out of the kitchen toward his room down the hall.

While I wait, I check my phone and see a few texts from my brother Aiden. He plays hockey in a major junior league in New England, but it looks like he’ll be getting drafted this year too. He’s not even eighteen yet, but he will be by spring and won’t be playing college hockey.

Aiden: Sup, brotha?

Archie: Yo. Where are you? You’re on the road this week, yeah?

Aiden: Yep, we’re in sunny Wisconsin. We have a two-game series here, and then we’ll head back to NE. I didn’t catch your game, but saw the score. Congrats.

Archie: Yep. Thanks, bro. I have a feeling it’s going to be a good season.

Aiden: You heading out to celebrate?

Archie: Yeah, we’re just leaving now. I’ll text you tomorrow night.

Aiden: Later. Be careful. Gotta keep everything on the straight and narrow.

Archie: Where’s the fun in that?

I pocket my phone when Liam walks back into the kitchen.

“Let’s go, Griff. I’ve been waiting on you for hours.”

I shake my head and laugh. “Let’s do it.”

“What, no pre-party speech tonight?” he asks.

“Nah, I probably won’t stay long. Maybe just a few beers.” In truth, if Emma isn’t there, I’ll stay for a beer and check in with my teammates, but I won’t hang around.

I walk out first, and Liam shuts and locks the door. We don’t have far to go. Our friends live pretty much around the corner.

“How you feeling about the last few games?” I ask Pitz.

Our coach has been playing our rookie more and more in games, but Pitz got the win tonight.

He shifts his head from side to side. “I don’t know, man. I’m psyched that I got the win today, but it’s pretty clear that Coach is going to be using Callaway more. And I get it; I want to go all the way this season too. Just sucks for me if I don’t get the playing time, you know?”

I nod.

“I need to do some serious thinking about it though. I can’t sit on the bench this season if I want to enter the draft next year.” He looks over at me. “No joke though, it’ll kill me to leave Walker if that’s what I need to do.”

“Listen, try to stay focused on one game at a time. Keep working hard and prove to Coach you are a killer QB. Because you are. I hope you aren’t doubting yourself. Callaway is good—I can’t deny it—but you are too. Coach will do what he thinks is best for the team, but whatever he decides, try not to let it get in your head. Whether you stay or go, you need to show thecoaches you’ll do whatever it takes. You feel me?” I put my arm around his neck and pull him in. I rub my knuckles across his short brown hair.

“Fucker! Don’t noogie me.”

We both laugh.