Page 3 of Calm Before the Score (The Players of Springs U #1)

3

Violet

E ven though I’m feeling accomplished from my classes, when I get back to the apartment, I’m excited to spend the rest of my afternoon organizing my notes and syllabi from the first day. My plan is to color-code my folders and make a schedule for the week, but as I lay out all of my school supplies on the furry rug in the living room, my mind keeps drifting to today’s lunch debacle. Why did he feel the need to say I’m not his type? Besides the brief intro Hartley gave him, he doesn't even know me. Did I do something wrong? Say something wrong? And here I go… Down my obsessive rabbit hole of thoughts. This happens to me a lot more than I would like to admit. The only person who knows how bad it actually gets is Hartley. He’s had to talk me out of a panic more times than I can count. My thoughts are scattered into a million pieces, and I scream as Hartley busts through the door, “Vi, Ryan is a jerk. It’s nothing against you, I swear. He’s like this with everyone. Don’t take it personally, please.” He drops down to his knees with dramatics and grasps his hands together to emphasize his begging. He’s loyal, and I love that about him.

“Hartley, it’s fine. I’m ok. I just worry that everyone we hang around will be like that. You know how hard it is for me to make friends. I just pray that some of your other teammates are more welcoming and not as… blunt.” Hartley stares daggers into my eyes, and I know what’s coming next.

“You forgot something, Vi.”

“As a friend, Hart. You know this.” I throw my favorite decorative pillow at him, and it hits his head with an oof .

“Vi, I promise they aren’t all like that. Actually, just Ryan is like that. Come with me to a party tonight. It’s the back-to-school bash for the team and friends of the team. I want to introduce you to everyone.”

“No. I’m organizing my notes from class today,” I answer quickly, but I know he won’t stop until I say yes. He’s persistent. He stares at me and juts out his bottom lip, giving me the best puppy dog impression he can.

“Come on. It’s a great place to meet new people. Didn’t you say that’s your goal this year?”

“It was, but I changed my mind.” I smirk down at my notes.

“Please, please, please.” He’s still on the ground, ridiculously begging.

“Fine. Who am I to deny an invitation to the almighty football players’ party? What do I even wear?” I ask reluctantly. You wouldn’t typically ask your guy best friend for fashion advice, but I don’t have any girlfriends here. I didn’t have any at home either. Our dynamic is complicated.

“Let’s go, I’ll help you pick something.”

We stand up from the floor and walk to my bedroom. In typical Hartley fashion, he bulldozes into my closet and starts throwing things out.

“Yes.” He takes out an oversized shirt and tosses it my way. “No.” He shoves one of my favorite rompers to the pits of the closet. “No. We’re not going to church. Absolutely not. We’re not going to the strip club either,” Hartley mumbles to himself as he raids my closet.

“Stop!” I grab him playfully and grab the strip club outfit. “This is what I’m going with,” I say with a small smirk. If Hartley doesn’t want me to wear it, that means it’s cute.

“Don’t yell at me tonight when I have to push someone through the wall for staring at you.” He says it like he’s joking, but I know he’s not. I just hope tonight goes well. I can’t handle another unexpected encounter on my first day of college. Lunch was enough of a mental spiral for one day.