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CHAPTER TWENTY

Cameron

The week flies by in a wave of uneventful boringness.

Since Mason is on lockdown to prepare for midterms, Payton used her days off and left for the beach house with the baby to visit her brother and the others.

Paige had an emergency at her dance studio back in Oceanside, so she ended up heading that way, too.

Ari has been hit and miss with her own classes, so we mostly hang out at night before bed.

And while Chase is in the same boat as Mason, Brady has gone full force into training.

I guess the team we’re playing this weekend has one of the strongest lines, and he’s determined to break his way through it to keep himself neck and neck with that guy from Brighton.

The two have been trading each other for first each week in stats, but only one can take the record for the most sacks at the end of the season.

So yeah, my entire crew is busy, and basically, I need more friends.

I didn’t even see Alister in class today.

At first, I thought maybe he didn’t show because of the whole me and Brady kissing on the field thing, but then I remembered the boys have an early away game on Saturday, so they’ll be traveling tomorrow.

Because of that, they get to take some midterms early.

There were several players I know who were not in the classes I have with them all week.

I smile at the little figure in my palm as I make my way to the weight room.

My professor let me stay a little later in art yesterday to finish my second clay project, since I didn’t need my station to put the final details on it.

So I missed my usual study session on the bleachers yesterday afternoon.

In all fairness, I might not have gone anyway, since Ari was busy, but it’s whatever.

If I hurry, I can catch Brady just as he finishes up.

With a little more power behind my steps, I get there in no time, and as the gym comes into view, I slow my pace.

Brady is already outside, shirtless and sweaty, with a towel wrapped around his neck, hanging over his pecs—and hanging all over his arms are two volleyball players, if the kneepads they’re wearing are anything to go by.

I mean, those pads could be pretty useful for extracurricular activities too…

When Brady laughs, I decide one of them told him exactly that, even if I have no idea what was actually said, because I seem to have stopped walking altogether, instead watching the three of them like a creeper from a distance.

Brady grins down at the blond one, so tiny her head hardly reaches his shoulder. If he tucked his arm around her, she’d fit under it like the perfect little puzzle piece: Goldilocks and the big, badass bear.

Man, I must seem like an ogre compared to her. Pretty sure my chin can rest on his collarbone. I bet she’s so small, she couldn’t even manage a proper sixty-nine position. I mean unless his dick is massive.

My eyes fall to his gym shorts, and I tip my head in thought.

They are pretty long, and now that I think about it, I’ve never seen him wear those short shorts some of the guys like to run or workout in. So yeah, there’s really no telling what could be hiding under there.

Not that I’m wondering.

Okay, yeah, time to walk away, Cameron. What the hell?

I spin, yelping when I’m met with a hard chest .

Soft hands wrap around my biceps to steady me, and I meet Alister’s gaze.

“Hi.” He smiles.

I guess I didn’t know I needed him to smile at me again, as the moment he does, my muscles ease.

I smile back. “Hey. Missed you in class.”

His brows jump and I tense all over again.

“I mean,” I rush out, “I didn’t miss you. I just meant it?—”

“It’s all good.” His expression is gentle. “I know what you meant, but I will admit that I wouldn’t mind hearing you missed me if it were true.”

I look away a moment. “You’re not…mad at me, right?”

Maybe I shouldn’t care if he is, but I can’t help that I do, and to be frank, I would understand if he was.

The expression on his face seems to mirror my thoughts, as if he’s not sure why I would care—though he’s not upset that I do. The opposite, really.

His smile is forgiving. “I’m not mad, Cammie. A little sad for myself, but I can take it, and I’m well aware I made the bed I’m in.”

“I don’t want to intentionally hurt you, Alister. I’m just…” Doing what I can to let you go? Using Brady to help me do that? Enjoying being with someone I can trust, even if it’s not real?

I don’t know what I want to say here.

He reaches out, pushing my hair behind my ear, and my eyes close of their own accord.

When I reopen them, he’s gazing sweetly at me.

“I know you don’t. That’s not who you are and that might be part of what’s so hard about all this.

You’re good. Sweet. Spicy.” He smirks a little, and a low chuckle escapes me, but a hint of sorrow falls over him in the next moment, though he tries to hide it. “What I mostly feel is regret.”

I swallow. “Is it okay if I say same?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It is. Is it okay if I say I’m a little worried about you? ”

A small scowl builds. “Why?”

“Why did you stop where you did?”

I open my mouth but then close it.

I didn’t stop for any reason. I was just…watching.

Alister holds my gaze a moment but then curses as he looks down at his phone. “I hate to run off, but if I don’t go now, I’ll be late for my session. I’ll see you in class next week?”

I nod, watching him walk away.

I spin back around to find the girls are no longer standing there, and neither is Brady.

With a deep breath, I tuck my little trinket back in my bag, head to my dorm, and crawl into bed with the TV remote.

And that’s where I stay all weekend.

Brady

“What the hell do you mean, you’re injured?

” I jump up from the chair I only just planted my ass in, my frown snapping from Mason to Chase to Coach and back to the man in question.

“How? You kicked ass out there. Walked off with your head high and got on a damn bus. How did you get injured in your fucking sleep, because I know for a fact all you did was go straight to Payton’s and crashed when we got in last night? ”

I’m sure they fucked first, but that has no bearing on this damn conversation, so I don’t mention it.

Coach sighs, uncrossing and recrossing his legs where he’s perched against the desk. “Sit down, Brady, and lower your damn voice.”

My head snaps toward Chase, who stares at Mason with a scowl that matches my own.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Woke up about five this morning with a pounding headache and started throwing up. Called Coach to give him a heads-up that I might not make it to practice tomorrow if I still felt like shit in the morning. He hung up on me and thirty minutes later sent me this clip.” Mason turns the tablet in his lap around, and we both lock on to the screen.

Mason presses Play, and I watch as the Sabers’ D-end breaks through our line, knowing what play it is before the clip finishes. Mason gets sacked, stays on the ground for a split second, his eyes closed, but hops up a heartbeat later.

My eyes move to Coach, then Chase, then back to the screen when Mason zooms in, replaying the last four seconds in slow motion.

We watch as Mason’s head hits the turf before his body, bouncing once, twice, his neck crooked to the side slightly when it finally comes to rest against the grass.

“A concussion?” Chase says, and we both look to our best friend.

Mason nods. “None of us even realized how hard of a hit I took until Coach went to check the game film after I told him how I was feeling. Honestly, I should have put two and two together, but it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Fuck.” I rub my hands together. “Concussion protocol puts him out for two weeks,” I say, stating the obvious.

Chase looks to Coach. “Why did you call us in here to tell us this?”

It’s a fair question. Normally, these are private conversations we’re none the wiser about, and unless a buddy of ours tells us beforehand, like Mason would have done, we find out who’s on the IR list as a team at the start of Monday’s practice.

Coach looks at us both, sighs, and kicks off the desk, moving behind it to drop into the seat. “Because the three of you are a unit, and that plays a huge factor in how the team has responded to Mason. With him out, that means?—”

“Alister. ”

Coach nods, a glare quickly forming. “The kid is struggling with the camaraderie of things. That won’t make leading this team these next two weeks any easier on him.”

“What do you want us to do, kiss his ass? The guy is a dickhead half the time, Coach,” Chase complains, crossing his arms.

Coach isn’t aware of the beef we have, but it’s obvious we have one. Shit, we wouldn’t be in this office right now if it weren’t.

“Not kiss his ass but listen when he speaks. Offer ideas. Show the team you’re willing to follow him, and in turn, they’ll follow you.”

Chase looks to Mason, who nods. He lets out a sigh and turns to Coach. “Yeah, all right, whatever. This week should be an easy win even if we don’t use pass game, but next week will be tough.”

Coach agrees, pinning me with an expectant expression.

“What?” I shrug. “I’m on defense now. This has nothing to do with me. I don’t have to hold his hand.”

Coach scoffs, shaking his head. “Wrong, kid. I’m moving your training schedule to align with his.”

“What?” I shoot forward in my seat. “Coach. No.”

Mason laughs and I flip him off.

“Coach, you do know Brady’s sleeping with Alister’s ex, right?” Chase smirks.

Dipshit.

Coach groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Of fucking course you are, Lancaster.”

This is one of those times I don’t mind all the rumors.

“See?” I grin. “I’m more likely to let him get crushed by weights than help him any.”

“You worked Mason through his program all last season and, from what you yourself told me, all offseason too.” He raises a brow.

“I did. Been doing that since I was twelve. This is different.”

“It’s no different. The kid needs someone who will push him, and if it can’t be Mason, it has to be you.”

“Why not Chase? He knows the entire routine. ”

Chase throws his hands up as if to say what the hell, man , but I ignore him. If someone’s getting thrown under this bus, I’d rather it be him.

Love him, but no.

“It’s done and you won’t argue.” Coach has laid down the law, pulling out a folder and flipping it open. “I already checked in on your grades, and you’re on top of shit, so I’m excusing you from all study hall sessions for the next two weeks. You’ll spend that time working with Howl.”

“Damn, Brady, how good are your grades to get a two-week pass?” Mason looks over. “I had to make up the hour I missed when Deaton got sick.”

I shrug, but Coach is eager to share.

“Your boy here has a 4.0. Ended last semester with the same.”

My friends’ brows jump, but I just shrug again and change the subject. “When are you telling the punk?”

He glares at my word choice but looks at his watch. “He’ll be walking in while you’re walking out.”

“You mean we don’t get to see the look on his face when you tell him I’m his new backpack?”

“Out, assholes. Mason stays.”

Together, we head out of the coach’s office. As Coach predicted, we’re exiting the main doors just as Alister is approaching.

He frowns in confusion but quickly wipes it away, nodding hello before slipping inside.

Chase and I stop a few feet from the entrance, both of our shoulders falling.

“Fuckin’ great, man,” he mumbles, running his hands through his hair. “I was supposed to get a good boost in my receiving yards next week against Brighton.”

I shake my head, knowing that’s not likely anymore. Fucking Alister won’t pass half as much as Mason does.

“You gonna tell your girlfriend her ex-boyfriend is your new buddy? ”

I shove Chase, and he chuckles.

We start heading back to the football house in silence, and I catch Chase staring at me from the corner of my eye a few times.

“What?”

He shrugs and looks away, but I scoff.

“Just spit it out, asshole.”

“Just wondering how all that’s going…you and Cam.”

“It’s all fun and games, man.”

Chase points his grin forward, nodding lightly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” I nod back.

But I guess he’s right—I should probably let her know I’m going to be working with Alister this week. Not that she’ll care.

She’s not worried about what he’s got going on, so it’s not like it will matter anyway. She won’t suddenly want to wear his number or hang out with him again now that he’s going to be the starting QB.

Not that I would mind if she did.

My lips pinch together, and I frown forward.

Nope, I wouldn’t mind it one bit.