You need to eat. Be glad I’m not there, or I’d make sure of it.
Is this what fake boyfriend duty entails?
Well, feeding you might be my love language. Fake or not.
The locker roomsmelled like sweat, adrenaline, and whatever protein powder had exploded in West’s bag. Again.
“I swear to God,” Bronx muttered, grimacing and peeling off his hoodie. “You should be banned from bringing anything Fruity Pebbles flavored within ten yards of this place.”
“It’s plant-based,” West said, as if that was supposed to make it better. He grinned, already half-dressed in his gear, his pads askew and his brown hair doing whatever the hell it wanted. “Organic pea protein. Great for muscle recovery and shit.”
“And terrible for nostrils everywhere,” I said.
“Yeah, peas shouldn’t smell like fucking feet,” Bronx said flatly.
I laughed, tugging on my compression shirt. “Just be grateful he’s not on another liver cleanse. Last time, he looked like he was on the brink of death.”
“Jealousy.” West threw a towel at my head. “That’s what I’m hearing.”
“You hearing voices again?”
I chucked the towel back at him, and he caught it midair.
“Might be time to lay off the pre-workout,” I said.
“No pre-workout. That shit’s full of nasty chemicals.”
Bronx and I gave him a look.
He shrugged. “Sorry, I care about what goes into my body.”
Bronx cracked a rare smile, tapping his fingers on the top of his locker like a drummer warming up. “So anyways. Tell us about Ellie.”
I groaned, already bracing myself.
“Oh, now you don’t wanna talk about her.” West’s eyes lit up. “As if you didn’t call me last week screaming, ‘Ellie came home with me. She’s so pretty and so smart. I think she might actually like me.’”
“She’s dating you, dumbass.” Bronx glanced at me. “Of course she likes you.”
I glanced down at the jersey in my hands. I trusted my guys, but when it came to Ellie, I wasn’t ready to put it all out there yet. From the outside, it was real—like maybe I was finally the guy who actually got the girl, even if the world didn’t know the whole story.
“Come on,” West said. “You can’t just announce to the world that you’re dating her and then give us the silent treatment.”
“We’re just…spending time together when we can. Getting to know each other.”
West scowled. “Wow, lamest answer possible.”
Bronx leaned a shoulder against his locker, his arms folded. “But you like her.”
“Of course I like her.” I shoved my pads into place. “She’s smart and funny. She actually listens when I talk—and not just about football. When I say something dumb, she doesn’t make me feel dumb. She rolls with it. Makes me feel...” I trailed off.
“Less dumb?” West offered.
I pointed at him. “Exactly.”
“She’s cool,” I said, my voice softer. “It’s easy being around her.”
Bronx gave a thoughtful nod. He always caught the stuff beneath the surface. “Is she coming to the game?”
