Page 60 of Necessary Roughness

“All of the above.” I frowned. “We don’t have any clean wine glasses.”

Roman popped the cork on the champagne and quickly gulped down the foam that poured out of the bottle. “We don’t need glasses.”

“Gross, dude,” Logan said while turning on the TV. “I don’t want to put my lips where yours have been.”

He blinked, realizing what he’d said, and then we all erupted into laughter.

Roman handed him the bottle. “So this is fine?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Logan took a swig and passed it to me. “Should we discuss next semester?”

“You’re serious about getting your master’s?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah I’m serious. Now we just need to figure out where we’re going to live.”

Knox settled on the other side of me with the bottle of chardonnay held in both hands. “Tampa Bay is only forty-five minutes up the coast. An hour with traffic. We could buy a place in the middle. Maybe a nice house on the beach.”

“You’d have to commute up into the city for games, and practice, and everything else,” I pointed out. “You’re willing to do that?”

“If it means all of us sticking together? Yeah. As long as you don’t mind commuting twenty minutes to class.”

“Actually,” I said with a grin, “I don’t mind. I just signed up for my fall classes, and all of them are on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I have Tuesdays and Thursdays off. Which means I only have to commute three times a week.”

“Here’s one!” Logan said, staring at his phone.

“That was fast,” Roman muttered.

“It’s right on the beach, with a big deck,” Logan read out loud. “And it’s only three million.”

That number made me choke on my champagne. Roman rubbed my back.

“You seem awfully eager to spend my money,” Knox said dryly.

“If the four of us are together, like, for the long-term, then it’s our money. Besides, buying a place in the middle was your idea.”

“That’s not how this works at all,” Knox said.

Logan ignored him. “This one is only two-point-eight mil! What a steal!”

I took the phone from him and squinted. “Eight bedrooms. A wrap-around porch that faces the ocean…”

Roman took the phone next, then passed it to Knox. “Huh,” he said. “That’s actually really fucking nice.”

“Right?” Logan exclaimed.

“How does your signing bonus work?” Roman asked.

“I won’t get it until we officially sign a rookie contract in a few weeks,” Knox explained. “But my agent says it’ll be between seven and eleven million.”

“Oh baby!” Logan hopped up and did a little dance. “I should’ve ordered ten entrees tonight.”

“You still need to put your leftovers away,” I pointed out. He’d dumped them on the table when we got home and immediately went into my room.

“That’s why I love you,” he said, winking as he hurried to put the food away.

“Again,” Knox said loudly, “this isn’t your money.”

“Shut up and press the button,” Logan said from the kitchen.

“What button?”

“The buy house button,” Logan explained. “I’ve never bought a house, but I’m assuming that’s how it works.”

“A few more bottles of wine,” Knox said, “and I just might do that.” He was staring at the phone with the same expression he’d had right before inviting me to move in with them last fall.

He’s actually serious about this .

He glanced up at me, and grinned. For a few heartbeats, I was struck with a vibrant image of our future: the four of us living in a house on the beach, happier than anyone had a right to be.

The sea breeze blowing in our hair as we laughed and drank wine and made love on the porch.

Raising a handful of children. Four sounded nice—one for each man, plus a wildcard fourth.

Watching them learn how to swim in the ocean under the watchful eyes of their fathers.

Or better yet: teaching them to play football in the driveway.

I blinked, and the image was gone. But based on the way Knox was smiling at me, he was imagining something similar.

Logan hurdled the couch and landed next to me. “What movie are we watching? Die Hard?”

“We just watched it,” Knox complained, snuggling closer to me.

“In January! For Christmas! That was three months ago!” Logan whined.

“I’m vetoing it,” Roman said, sitting on the floor in front of me and resting back between my legs against the couch. “But I’ll do another eighties movie.”

“Something cheesy,” I said, gently stroking Roman’s hair.

Knox reached across me and stole the remote from Logan. “It’s my big day, so I’m picking the movie.”

“Check your watches.” Logan looked at his wrist. “It took Knox exactly eight hours to let his fame and fortune go to his head.”

“I approve of Knox choosing the movie,” Roman declared.

“Me too,” I said.

“ Ferris Bueller’s Day Off ,” Knox said, selecting the movie and hitting play.

“I retroactively approve of your decision,” Logan said.

Roman craned his head back to look at me upside-down. “You good with this, Sloane?”

“Hey!” Logan said. “Sloane’s the name of Ferris’s girlfriend in the movie!”

“I love this movie,” I said. “But I hate Ferris.”

All three looked at me while the opening credits played.

“Please elaborate,” Roman said.

“Ferris is a little brat!” I explained. “He slacks off, skips school, and gets everyone in trouble—including his friends. Ferris is the bad guy.”

“If he’s the bad guy, then who is the good guy?” Knox asked, an amused look on his face.

“Principal Rooney,” I immediately replied. “Duh.”

“Ohhhh,” Roman said, drawing out the word. “I get it. You’re taking Rooney’s side because you’re going to be a teacher.”

“Yes! Teachers are good, hard-working people who just want kids to learn, and boys like Ferris ruin it for everyone!”

“Of course you empathize with the teacher,” Logan muttered. “It’s a good thing you’re hot.”

“I feel like I’m taking crazy pills right now,” I said. “Ferris is the worst protagonist in the history of movies.”

“But you like the movie,” Knox said, retrieving a bag of pre-made popcorn from the pantry. He sank back into the couch next to me.

“It’s a good movie,” I admitted. “But I’m rooting for Ferris to get caught the entire time.”

“Unbelievable,” Roman said, shaking his head.

I flicked the back of his ear. He whipped his head around and gave me a warning look, and I responded by sticking my tongue out.

“It’s okay,” Knox said. “You’re allowed to be wrong about one major thing in life. I hope you’re happy that this is what you’re wasting it on.”

“I hope you don’t take the kids’ side when I come home from work and complain about my teaching job,” I said.

“Shh, the movie is starting,” Roman warned.

“Toss me a piece,” Logan said to Knox.

The newly-drafted NFL player leaned away from us on the couch, held a piece of popcorn between his fingers, then threw it in a high arc. Before Logan could catch it, I jumped up and caught it in my mouth.

“Intercepted!” I announced, fists held in the air. “I bet this is what it feels like to catch a touchdown pass.”

“Stop it,” Logan said, putting a hand on my face and pushing me out of the way. “Give me another one.”

Knox tossed another piece, but it bounced off the side of Logan’s wide-open mouth.

“Damn,” Knox said. “You’re losing your touch. Maybe I shouldn’t let you onto the Buccaneers’ practice squad.”

“ Shut up ,” Roman hissed. “The movie is starting, and you’re ruining it.”

Logan glanced at me and made a face, mocking what Roman had said.

I snuggled up against him, and Knox leaned into me from the other side. Roman reached back and gave my ankle an intimate little squeeze while I resumed running my fingers through his hair.

There had been a lot of passes and receptions in the past year, but I felt like the luckiest catch of all.