“Why doesit have to be so fucking hot?” A bead of perspiration slides down my forehead as I lace up my cleats. Practice hasn’t even started, and I’m already sweating. Our locker room may be state-of-the art, but with all my pads on, the air conditioner is fighting a losing battle.
“Because Science,” Vaughn, our resident mountain man, deadpans from the locker to my right. “The prof didn’t cover global warming in Rocks for Jocks?”
I give him the finger, ignoring Reid and Parker, who giggle like a couple of teenage girls. If they weren’t my best friends, I might be offended. But after three years of playing ball and living together, we’re tight.
I’d trust these guys with my life.
But not your secrets?
I shove the thought aside. Distractions have no place in the locker room or on the field. I’ve been in the game long enough to know it takes more than talent to win a national football championship and secure a first-round draft pick; it takes discipline.
“Worried these golden locks are going to get frizzy?” Parker asks, ruffling my hair. I swat at his hand, but he’s too damn fast. “Don’t be so precious. We’ll all look like roadkill by the time Coach is done with us.”
“Speak for yourself. I always look good.”
“Could your ego be any bigger?” Vaughn asks, shooting me a disapproving look.
I meet his stare head-on and grin. “What can I say? Everyone loves me. I’m like a calorie free taco smothered in cheese.”
Vaughn snorts.
So predictable.
“You got the cheese part right,” he says. “I can’t believe women go for that crap.”
“Don’t be salty just because you’re bacon and beef jerky.”
Vaughn freezes, helmet in hand. “What’s wrong with bacon and beef jerky?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “But when was the last time you saw a woman go down on a plate of bacon and beef jerky?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“If by disgusting, you mean disgustingly handsome and wise, then yeah.”
Reid grins and tucks his helmet under his arm. “By mid-November, we’ll all be wishing for another heatwave.”
Truth. Nothing a receiver hates more than cold ass weather and stiff fingers.
I stand and grab my helmet from the top shelf of the locker. No way I’m going to be the last one on the field. Not when it’s hot as balls and coach believes laps are a surefire way to improve punctuality.
“Ready?” Reid asks, holding out his fist.
“Hell, yeah,” I say, knocking it with my own. “Let’s go get ourselves a national title.”
I’m about to push my locker door closed when my phone lights up and the Imperial March fills the air.
Fuuuuuck.
My mood sours instantly. I have no interest in talking to my father, but if I don’t answer, there’ll be hell to pay.
And I won’t be the one footing the bill.
“You good?” Reid asks, a note of concern in his voice.
Not even close.
“Yeah.” I nod toward the exit, all cool confidence and swagger. Reid is an excellent captain and an even better friend. The last thing I want to do is drag him down, especially when I know he’s got his own shit to deal with. “You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you on the field.”
