Page 1

CHAPTER 1

ZANDER

I am so wrecked.

My muscles curse me out as I roll over in bed with a groan.

Yesterday’s away game was brutal. And it didn’t help that I got sacked in the first quarter. The crowd had a field day, screaming in triumph as I lay crumpled under the big-ass defensive end who got through our offensive line like they were welcoming him in for a fucking party. For a guy that huge, he was a stealth ninja. I didn’t even see him coming. But I felt every ounce of him.

The tackle knocked the air right out of me, but I played the rest of the game, because that’s what you fucking do when you’re a Nolan U Cougar. Coach asked me if I needed a minute, but hell no. I was fired up and ready to annihilate the Fort Collins team.

Tyrell was so pissed I got sacked, he gave his guys a rocket up the ass, and for the rest of the game, I was protected at every turn. It was like playing behind a wall of titanium warriors, and even though Fort Collins made us work for it, we won.

So, despite the aching muscles, a smile stretches over my face.

Until it drops away when I think about how much studying I have ahead of me today. It’s Sunday, which means no games, no practices, and a shit ton of schoolwork to catch up on.

“Fuck.” I scrub a hand down my face and force myself out of bed. It’s already eleven thirty, and I can hear guys up and about downstairs. I wonder if they’re mainlining coffee the way I need to right now.

I should have gone to bed as soon as we got home last night, but Grady started up the Xbox, and you don’t just turn your back on a Call of Duty invite. We needed to unwind anyway, and Coach had warned us about not getting off the bus and going out to party.

“You need to let your body replenish. Take some downtime, rest up, and get yourself ready for a new week on Monday. I expect you all to be in class, on time, your work up-to-date.” He clapped his hands while we all stifled groans. He was about the only college coach in the country who went on about classes and shit. He wants us to do well in every area of our lives. We’re constantly getting lectures and pep talks about our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being, and it’s not all to do with football. Coach Jones wants us to be more than just athletes. “I’m training you for life, remember. It’s more than just a game.” He pointed at us like he always does, his finger wagging in the air like a drumstick. “And I’ll see you at practice on Monday afternoon.”

Carson rolled his eyes, growling in his throat. I don’t know why. He was going to ignore Coach Jones anyway. The guy never followed the rules, much to my annoyance. I was constantly having to cover for him when all I wanted to do was smack him up the side of the head and tell him to watch himself. He’s the best wide receiver I’ve ever worked with, and if he’d stop fucking up so much off the field, I’d be a happy man. I just don’t want to see him get benched… or end up dead because of some drunken, reckless stunt he pulled at a party.

Stretching tall, I glance at my desk and the stack of books beside my laptop. I have so much work to do, but I can’t think about that right now.

“Coffee,” I croak, pulling on a pair of sweats and a crumpled T-shirt.

Clomping down the stairs, I peek my head into the living room and spot Carson slumped on the couch. He’s wearing shades and nursing a coffee mug. He must have gone out for a hookup after we finished Call of Duty . Idiot. I shake my head and raise my chin at Wily, who’s grinning at me like he woke up on a ray of sunshine and danced through white puffy clouds on his way downstairs. His laptop is on his knees, and he’s obviously trying to study while watching The Punisher with Carson. No wonder the guy is always on the edge of flunking out. He hates schoolwork with a passion, but Coach is a hard-ass. He will bench our asses if our schoolwork isn’t up to scratch. I’m sure the guy has gotten into plenty of arguments with the AD over it, but he refuses to let up.

“They’re not just players, dammit!” I heard him yell once. “We need to give these guys a chance at real life too!”

A grunt comes from the TV, and I spot Frank Castle punching some asshole in the face before I glance back to Wily.

“Sup, Cap?” I don’t know how the fuck he does it, but the guy is always cheerful… sometimes to the point of being fucking annoying. His big dopey smile can win over anybody, though.

“Nothin’ much. Need me some coffee.” I stroll into the kitchen and find Grady frying up a feast.

I sniff the air, my stomach rumbling. “Can I have in on that?”

“Make your own fucking breakfast.” He grins at me.

I laugh and lightly punch his shoulder before pulling out the bacon and slapping it down beside him. “Thanks, bro.”

“How many slices?”

“Gimme five with two eggs and I’ll make the toast.”

“Any hash browns?”

“Nah.” I untie the bread bag and start manning the toaster while also pouring myself a much-needed coffee.

I sip that hot brew and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Yeah, I feel ya, man. Those fuckers were like a horde of zombies yesterday,” he mutters. “I only got tackled once, but it was like being hit by a slab of concrete.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumble, turning back to the toaster. “Hey, do you know where Carson went last night?”

“Not sure.” Grady shrugged. “I went to bed and just hoped like hell we wouldn’t get some phone call at four in the morning telling us to come to the hospital.”

“What the fuck are we gonna do with him?” I huff. “I thought he’d gotten his shit together after nearly getting kicked off the team last year.”

“Yeah, he definitely improved there for a while. But then summer happened.”

I clench my jaw.

“But he played like a demon yesterday, man. At least he’s lightning on the field.”

“Yeah.” Refilling my mug, I pull out the plates and butter the toast before Grady loads us up.

We eat in silence, Grady scrolling through TikTok videos and smiling at clips of… probably morons in cars or dogs acting crazy. The guy loves to watch mindless shit.

Meanwhile, my mind is racing with all the things I have to get through today. We’re only one week into the school semester, and classes have started with an intensity I wasn’t counting on. I guess no one ever said being a senior would be easy.

“You done?” Grady stands, grabbing my plate and rinsing it off.

“Thanks, man.” I top up with my third coffee and wander into the living area to find The Punisher blowing shit up and Wily snoring in the armchair. His head is tipped back, his mouth wide open, and the laptop is precariously perched on his lap.

I race forward and catch it before it hits the wood, placing it on the coffee table, then plunking down beside Carson.

He grunts and pushes his shades a little higher up his nose.

“How hungover are you?” I mutter.

“Bad enough that I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

“’Kay.” I nod. “So, no LOUD NOISES, THEN ?” I shout into his ear.

“You fucker,” he hisses, trying to punch me in the arm. I laugh, flicking his fist away and getting into a short tussle on the couch as Carson tries and fails to maim me.

I shove him away with a palm to his forehead, and he lunges back, growling like a grumpy dog, his fist raised in the air. I block for the attack, laughing at the look on his face… then we both go still as the front door slams shut.

Wily jerks and sits up with a start, blinking toward the archway just as Tyrell stalks in with a pissed-off scowl… and a milkshake-soaked shirt.

“Whoa.” Grady laughs, standing next to him and doing nothing to try and smother the sound. “What happened to you?”

“Donita happened!” he barks. “I was just trying to do the right thing, and…” He spreads his arms wide.

Carson snickers, then snorts and starts howling like a hyena—the guy has a weird-ass laugh. Tyrell glares at him, which makes me laugh, too, and soon Wily—the most sympathetic guy in the house—is doing his barking laugh that sounds more seal than human.

“Sorry, dude.” Wily struggles to talk. “But that’s epic. A milkshake thrown in your face? That’s like rom-com movie level shit, man.”

And only Wily would know what the hell people do in rom-coms.

“Why’d you break up with her again?” Grady asks, taking a seat on the beanbag while Tyrell strips off his jacket and shirt.

Throwing them onto the wooden floor with a huff, he scrubs a hand down his face and mutters, “Because she was getting too clingy. I don’t want to be with a girl who needs to know where I am every second of every fucking day.”

Carson hisses. “I hear ya, dude. That shit is creepy. This is why I don’t do girlfriends.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a girlfriend.” Grady rolls his eyes.

“That’s because yours is perfect,” Wily argues. “She’s pretty and sweet, and she respects your training and game schedule. She doesn’t ride you about not having enough time for her, and when you’re together, you enjoy each other’s company. If we all had girlfriends like that, we’d be dating too.”

“Fuck off. No, we wouldn’t,” Carson grumbles.

Wily gives him the finger, then looks to me. “Back me up here, Zan-Man.”

“Teah’s great.” I lift my chin toward Grady. “You’re a lucky guy. But girls like that are few and far between. I prefer to play it safe and just keep things light. A casual hookup every now and then is enough for me.”

He points at me. “You say that now, but just wait until you fall in love.”

My stomach clenches and I sniff, hoping no one notices. I arrived at Nolan U my sophomore year and left my past as far behind me as I could. I haven’t told these guys shit about my fuckup of a college freshman year… or how things ended with my high school sweetheart.

Carson groans, whipping off his shades and squinting into the light. His hazel gaze is intense. “Love is bullshit, Grady. Those feelings don’t last. Not for both of you, anyway. Someone always fucks it up.” He turns to Wily and winces. “Remember last year… the serenader who wouldn’t let go?”

Wily runs a hand through his hair, his blue eyes popping wide. “Oh shit, yeah! Damn, that was awkward.”

I can’t help a laugh. “If she’d been able to sing on key, it wouldn’t have been so painful.”

“She ruined ‘I Will Always Love You’ for me,” Tyrell mutters, and then we all crack up and start hassling him for being obsessed with Whitney Houston.

“Laugh all you want, you cheese dicks. Whitney was the best damn singer this world has ever known.” He plunks down onto the couch and mumbles under his breath, “Now that is a woman I’d never break up with.”

“Yeah, I’m sure if she was still alive, she’d be all over your, dude.” Grady smirks.

Tyrell tips his head back, nestling it into the cushions with a groan. “Breakups fucking suck.”

“Whether you’re the dumper or the dumpee, it’s always shit,” Wily agrees.

Tyrell sighs. “I’ve been both, and that’s why I was trying to be so nice about it with Donita, but she flipped out. Went full-blown psycho on my ass.” He clicks his tongue and sits back up. “Women ain’t worth it.” Giving Carson a light slap on the arm, he bobs his head. “I’m going your way, bro. Casual hookups only from now on.”

I nod. “It definitely makes it easier.”

Grady’s shaking his head, disagreeing with me as he no doubt thinks about his hot sorority girl and how great she is.

Yeah, well, it’s not like that for all of us.

A scorching memory burns through the back of my brain, but I shake it off. I can’t go there.

“I’m here to play football,” I grit out, begging images of Sienna not to devour me. “I’m not gonna waste my time on romantic bullshit.”

My nostrils flare, my knee starting to bob as I remind myself how brutal romance can be. I’m not gonna put myself through that again. I’ve only ever loved one girl, and she broke my heart with a fucking sledgehammer.