Yeah, right. The girl can eat, but she never seems to gain any weight. I’d kill for her metabolism, but maintaining a strict diet is a small price to pay for the sport I love and the thrill of flying through the air and landing the perfect vault.
“Come on.” Maddie spins on her heal. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we get ice cream.”
A slow smile curves my lips. “From The Creamery?”
The Waverly U dairy makes thebestice cream. It’s smooth, decadent, and made with whole milk. Which is why I only eat it on special occasions, because…gymnast.
“From The Creamery.” She nods decisively. “We deserve a treat to celebrate our first apartment. Plus, we’re going to work it off moving all these boxes.”
Truth.
Who needs conditioning when you can drag all your crap up and down the stairs in ninety-five-degree weather?
We trek outside for another box—the prospect of Alumni Swirl is a powerful motivator—and are greeted by the thumping bass of hip hop music and a blast of air so hot I swear it scorches my lungs. The sun is blistering and I shield my eyes, squinting against the bright light as Maddie grabs my arm and lets out a high-pitched squeal.
“Do you know who that is?” she whisper-hisses, gaze locked on a couple of guys playing frisbee next door.
“No clue.” They’re big and beefy. Probably student athletes. No surprise there. College Park Apartments has a notoriously long waitlist because of its proximity to the athletic facilities. “And unless they’re going to move all these boxes, I really don’t care.”
I turn my attention to the mountain of cardboard filling my ancient Ford Explorer as Maddie ogles frisbee dude.
“You know,” I say, pulling a box to the edge of the trunk. “If we each take one, we can do this in half the time.”
Not to mention half the trips.
“No way.” Maddie shakes her head, ponytail bouncing. “If you fall down the stairs and break something, Coach will kill me. Then I’ll be dead, you’ll be benched, Coach will get suspended, and Michigan will kick our asses at the Big Ten Championships in the spring.”
I snort-laugh. “You really think Coach would get suspended?”
“Fair point.” She sighs and grabs the other side of the box. “Gymnastics is life. They’d probably just slap her with a fine and tell her not to miss a practice.”
Laughing, we slide our cargo out of the trunk and shuffle toward the townhouse. This time, I walk backward, relying on Maddie to let me know if I’m going to crash.
We’re halfway to the door when she says, “Don’t look now, but I think Cooper DeLaurentis is checking us out.”
There’s a giddy thrill in her voice and I instinctively turn to the frisbee players, all of whom are shirtless and glistening like gods under the midday sun. Sure enough, Waverly’s star wide receiver is watching us—probably because Maddie’s staring like a creeper—and my stomach drops.
Puñeta. Please don’t let Parker be among them.
I took precautions. I wrote a strongly worded letter. I—
Heart pounding, I scan the guys’ faces, searching for the one that haunts my memories.
DeLaurentis. Reid. Smith. Some dude I don’t recognize.
Relief washes over me like a Gatorade shower. They’re all football players, but I don’t know them. Not personally, anyway.
I draw a steadying breath and steel my resolve.
It’s fine. I can do this. There are thousands of people in this complex. It’s not like I have to socialize with the neighbors. I’ll mind my business and they’ll—
Maddie groans. “I said don’t look!”
“Which basically guaranteed I was going to look.” I peek at my roommate over the top of the box. Her cheeks are flushed, but I can’t tell if it’s from the heat or embarrassment. Oh, who am I kidding? Maddie hasn’t been embarrassed a day in her life. The girl has no shame, which is why I love her. “If you didn’t want me to look, you shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Yeah, but then you would have missed the eye candy.” She flashes me a mischievous grin. “You’re welcome.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s back to admiring the view as we inch our way toward the apartment, cardboard digging painfully into the palms of my hands.
