Page 2

Chapter 2

Left Out

Logan dropped his backpack by the bed and threw himself onto the mattress, kicking off his sneakers to drop with a pair of hollow thunks to the floor. They were the new Series Sevens and deserved better. But while he knew later he'd regret treating them so badly, just then? Logan couldn't bring himself to care.

This morning's practice had been wind sprints across the training field. Then three hours back-to-back of getting his ass handed to him in class, followed by an entire afternoon of karaoke drills in the heat. By the end, Logan nearly threw up like Stimmons and O'Keefe had.

"Rough day?" Wally asked from the top bunk where he'd been typing something on his laptop.

Logan just grunted into his pillow, too tired to respond. He knew he'd feel better if he could drag himself into the shower to clean off. But that required moving, and therefore was more effort than he was capable of right then.

Usually, he'd shower in the locker room after practice, maybe have a soak in the team's hot tubs or sit a spell in the steam room. The facilities at San Morado University of Technology might not be as top of the line as some of the division one schools, but they were still pretty dope. Far better than the fraternity house's tiny, rinky-dink shower that shared a wall with the room they'd assigned him.

At least it didn't see much use. Ashton hadn't been lying when he said most of the guys would stick to the newly refurbished showers on the second and third floors at the front of the house. He had, however, conveniently left out the bit about it being supposedly haunted.

According to the story, it was some ghost of a former frat brother who'd had his number called during the Vietnam War; who couldn't get a deferment even after he'd gone and shot off his toe.

If I died in someone's messed-up war after being sent overseas, there'd be a whole list of people I'd haunt before picking on a bunch of college guys

All the frats and sorority houses on campus had a story like that, though. Some ghost or poltergeist just spooky enough for the seniors to frighten the pledges with, but not so much to turn anyone away. Logan was almost positive it was complete bunk, except that there'd been a couple of late-night trips to the bathroom where he —

Well, he couldn't say for certain it wasn't Drafted Danny Ninetoes he'd seen out of the corner of his eye, could he?

At least it turned out to be just as quiet as Ashton had promised. But between the supposed ghost and the three-flight walk-up, it was easy to see why the little attic room had been available. Calling it a two-man was a stretch, though. They couldn't even fit a desk for both Wally and Logan; so they took turns on the tiny one shoved into the corner, or headed downstairs to the dining room if either needed to write a paper.

Still, having only a single roommate meant they could turn off the lights when either wanted to sleep. Unlike the 10-man room on the second floor, affectionately known as 'Party Central' by the rest of the house.

Fun as it had sounded at first, by the third week, Logan's envy had cooled completely. Honestly, between all the reading, and papers, and classwork the professors here seemed to expect of them — much less the all-night Smash Knights marathons and music spilling out into the hall — he didn't know how those guys weren't going mad from sleep deprivation. Probably helped that they only had classes and house stuff to worry about, and not the full-time grind on top of it all that came with being on the football team.

But still. The size of the room aside, it made Logan thankful he hadn't been given a bunk closer to the action. Or hell, one that shared a wall with that ruckus. The other fraternity brothers might call him an old man for clocking out at midnight, but Logan was shit on the field if he didn't get at least a few hours of sleep each night.

Like to catch them awake and running laps at six am in the cold. See if they come banging on the walls, screaming and hollering at three am then

At least Wally hadn't turned out to be a completely awful roommate. Just as big of a nerd as he'd been in high school, of course, filling his share of the bookcase with an entire shop's worth of robots and anime figures. None of the ones with hilariously big tits, much to Logan's disappointment.

Not out on display . That's probably what he's got stashed in that lockbox at the bottom of his closet. The one shoved under his laundry bag last week that he didn't want me to see

Did he think Logan was going to turn him in for having a secret stash of porn, in whatever form it took? Not fucking likely.

But even then, the one normal thing about the guy and he goes about it in such a bass-akwards way. Can't have a folder buried on his laptop like most guys. Has to go and lock his dirty mags in a fucking safe.

Oh, now maybe that was it. Videos were all well and good — very, very good, as Logan's newly liberated search history could attest — but there was just something about holding vintage porn…

Must be pretty hardcore not to share, though, Logan thought, shifting to a more comfortable position as he considered what kind of kinky stuff Wally might have locked up in that box. But even if it did turn out to only be some naked catgirl figures, it was probably for the best Wally hid it away. Especially given how often the alumni liked their impromptu tours to 'drop in and see the old place'.

And every one of them dropping in specifically to 'say hello to the pride of Minotaur House' . All with some ancient, dusty-ass memory that means I gotta put a pause on my homework yet again, just to shake another old dude's hand and be bored to tears with stories of his so-called 'glory days'

Would they leave off if they knew all those missed and interrupted assignments were about to cost 'the pride of Minotaur House' his spot on the team?

At least some of them came bearing gifts. They weren't supposed to, strictly speaking — the college football association was very clear on their rules about athletes receiving money or anything because of their status as a student athlete. But as a fellow fraternity brother, they'd found a shoelace-sized loophole. Especially since someone had figured out Logan was a something of a sneakerhead, and…

The university gets to splash my name and face on the wall behind the ticket counter without me seeing a dime. And that company is coming in to do a scan on all of us next month so they can put the team in a video game, too. They can all, respectfully, suck it

What the athletics department didn't know about the half-dozen pristine shoe boxes hidden under his bed, the better, in Logan's book.

But it wasn't like most of the guys in the house weren't playing some video game or the other. So what if Wally's were filled with elves and dragons? Means he wasn't yelling through his headset at his squad for failing a level in Call of Honor. Or loudly heckling some trash-talking kid who was wiping the floor with him in Mudder Football.

Logan could turn over and bury his face in the pillow if the glare from Wally's laptop got to be too bright when he was trying to sleep. Kept him from stubbing his toes in the dark when he woke up in the middle of the night needing a piss, too.

"Mmm?" Logan hummed into his pillow at something Wally said, his tired brain sluggishly attempting to process the missed question.

"Is it going to bother you if I play my game?" Wally repeated, as if he thought he needed Logan's permission. For a moment, Logan was tempted to tell him that ' yes, it would bother me ' — just to see how Wally reacted.

Eh, what the hell. Probably just that fantasy bullshit he loves, anyway

"No more than usual," Logan replied. "But keep it down, alright? Think I'm gonna crash and get some sleep before the party later."

"Oh," Wally said, sounding startled. "Right. That's tonight, isn't it?"

Logan cracked open a bleary eye.

"I mean, it is Thursday, right?" Logan asked, suddenly unsure. He'd had Algebra this morning, though — at least, he thought it was this morning — so… Yeah, he could smell the fish frying for dinner downstairs. It had to be Thursday. "You're not going?"

"No one to go with," Wally said, and Logan could practically hear the shrug in the guy's voice. "Was going to, um.. To hang out with some friends."

"You have friends?" fell reflexively from Logan's mouth.

"Screw you," Wally muttered back, the words just sharp enough to deliver a dose of guilt beneath Logan's ribs.

Oh hell, why not? I'm stuck living with him. Might as well extend the olive branch, right?

"Ditch your nerd thing. I'll text Madeline and see if she has a friend who's free tonight," Logan said, digging out his phone. He was trying to remember the name of the blond sorority sister from Tri-Pi who'd been sitting next to Madeline when Logan had asked the cheerleader to tonight's party. It was on the tip of his tongue…

"Don't bother," Wally snorted. "Not into blind dates, much less a pity date. Besides — no offense, but any friend of your girlfriend's isn't likely to, uh… to be my type."

Logan and Madeline weren't dating, actually. But they'd hooked up a few times after games, which he figured was a solid enough excuse to ask for her help fixing up his… friend.

And for fuck's sake — who turns down a chance like this with one of the cheer squad chicks? Any other guy in the house would offer to do my laundry for a month. And here Wally — fucking Wally , who's probably never had anything remotely like a girlfriend unless she came with a literal remote — is here being a snob about it, as if he's got better options lined up around the corner

"S'not a blind date," Logan huffed, frustrated to have his plans for a nap thwarted in favor of Wally's love life, of all things. "Not even trying to set you up with her. Someone to mingle with, that's all. No use your plus-one going to waste, right? And what is this, a game show? Who cares about types ? If she's Madeline's friend, she'll be a cheerleader, which means she's hot. Hot and athletic . And if it so happens that you two hit it off…"

Then maybe you'll finally get laid, and can stop being so sketchy and weird all the time, Logan didn't say.

Instead, he let the idea dangle temptingly. Wally being a not-horrible roommate didn't mean Logan was suddenly invested enough in the guy to push, after all. Though, he had to admit that, for some reason, the notion of Wally with a girlfriend was a strange one. Even just trying to picture him with some girl on his arm at the party tonight sat oddly in Logan's head.

"Not sure the other guys want me there, anyway," Wally responded, yanking Logan's attention back to the present.

"What? It's a house party. You live in the house," Logan pointed out slowly, struggling to work out what Wally was on about. "Of course you're supposed to be there. Hell, you've got more right than any of the guys who live off campus."

"Try telling them that," Wally muttered under his breath, so low Logan barely caught it.

His attention was on the clock, working out how long he could sleep for and still have time to shower and shave before Madeline arrived for the party.

Long enough

He turned over and punched his pillow, the conversation already fading from his mind as exhaustion pulled at him hard.

"Whatever, man," Logan told Wally offhandedly. "Do what you want. Or better — do who you want. Show up at the party, or fuck off wherever you go to with your weirdo friends. I don't fucking care."

Even if he wasn't half-asleep, there'd be no way from this angle Logan could've seen the stunned expression that'd landed on Wally's face at Logan's words. Nor the intense look Wally shot his former bully, current roommate, and longtime…