Page 18 of Touchdown, Tennessee

“My friend doesn’t even go this fast in his Ferrari.”

He was silent for a moment. “That’s because Ferraris are for people who just want to flaunt their wealth. This car’s meant to be used, and I didn’t save up for it to go slow.”

I thought of the bumblebee-yellow Ferrari my dad had bought ten years ago, when he’d finally been promoted to VP of the company where he worked. It had been a little over 300 grand. He’d taken it out a few times on weekends, decided it wasn’t for him, and sold it by the end of the year.

Did my parentsflaunttheir wealth?

Maybe not.

But they definitely didn’t try to hide it.

Once Gray got going on the highway, it was true that he didn’t speed. I actually felt safe in the passenger seat, and he seemed locked in as he drove, paying more attention to the road than most of my friends did.

“Which frat house are you in?” he asked as we eased our way onto the TNU campus.

“Big blue one at the end of Tempests Way. Can’t exactly miss it.”

When he pulled up outside the house I felt a surge of desperate panic.

Control the narrative.

Give him things to write about, so that he doesn’t go poking around elsewhere.

“Get some sleep, Peachel,” he said, looking out the driver’s side window, not making eye contact with me.

“Come inside.”

“Nice try.”

“Not getting out of your sporty little racing car unless you agree to come inside. Just for ten minutes.”

He finally turned my way, looking at me with something between confusion and amusement. The car’s engine still rumbled beneath us as I waited for him to respond.

“God, how bad do youwantit?”

I held his eye contact. “I was hard half of the fuckin’ time I was at the bar, I’ll tell you that.”

“That’s a lot of honesty.”

“Being fucked after a bad game is the only thing that can actually clear my head. Like a reset button. Sue me. I don’t give a damn how much I dislike you. Wouldn’t matter to me.”

“Still not going in your frat house.”

“Come on. Think about how manynotesyou’ll be able to take. A glimpse into my world. Isn’t that all you want? Most of the guys are still out drinking, I guarantee you.”

“Ten minutes,” he said, cutting the engine. “Only because I’m worried you’ll pass out and choke yourself if you go in there alone.”

“Please. I’m not that drunk anymore.”

I led him inside.

Our frat house was big, classic, and full of every good thing about a fraternity: beer cans, football memorabilia, and history.

I took Gray up the set of stairs that led to my room. When we walked in, I saw his eyes scanning the place like they seemed to always do.

He actuallywaslooking for information and details.

When I’d said it, I’d been joking, for God’s sake.