Chapter 1
BRANDON
Isit in the driver’s seat of my Bronco, visor flipped down. My reflection is gaunt, my sandy mop disheveled and in need of a trim as my blue eyes stare back at me in the small mirror.
“You got this,” I say to myself, glad no one is around to witness my pathetic attempt at a pep talk. “She’s your best friend. She cares about you, which is why you owe it to yourself and to her to be honest.”
I exhale.
“And the truth is that you love her. You’vebeenin love with her.”
I swallow at the thought of what I’m about to do.No matter what happens, you won’t lose her.
I scrub a hand down my face as my pulse quickens.But whatif you do?
Pissed at myself for not telling her sooner, I flip the visor back up with a snap. Maybe I should’ve gone with Chris’s plan. After all, he’s one of my best friends, one hell of a running back, and landed a girl who once thought he was an obnoxious ass?and heisan obnoxious ass. Maybe I should’ve accepted his stupid fucking Love Playbook instead of shoving it back in his face.
No.I shake my head.
The truth is my friend. The truth is all I have. Tatum is my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. She deserves honesty, not some manipulative game plan designed to win her over, like she’s a prize to be claimed.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white. The evening sun casts long shadows across the dashboard as I stare at her apartment building.
We’ve been back at school for a week now, and for one week, I’ve grappled with what to do about my feelings in light of her new boyfriend.
The truth is, summer changed everything for me. Three months of busting my ass in the weight room and on the football field while she was back home in East Lansing, getting to know her new boyfriend, Ethan. Three months of missing her laugh, her terrible jokes, the way she steals the butteriest pieces of popcorn in the bowl, and never fails to wish me good night.
Three months of finally admitting to myself what I’ve always known but never spoke out loud. That what I feel for her is more than friendship. It always has been.
“Fuck it.”
No risk, no reward, right?
I yank the keys from the ignition and shove the door open, stepping into the balmy September air. The walk across the parking lot feels like crossing a football field in slow motion, each step heavier than the last.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I enter Oakridge Hall and punch in the code she gave me freshman year, entering the lobby and passing the attendant with a wave.
The elevator ride to the third floor stretches like an eternity, each one dinging past with agonizing slowness. By the time I reach her door, my palms are slick with sweat and I’m second-guessing every word I’ve rehearsed.
I raise my fist to knock but pause when I hear Tatum’s voice through the door. She’s talking to someone, her tone light and intimate in a way that makes my stomach clench.
“I know, I miss you too,” she says, followed by a soft laugh that I’ve heard a thousand times before. “It’s only been a week, but it feels longer.”
My knuckles hover inches from the wood, clenching tighter into fists because I know who she’s talking to, and I hate it more than I have a right to.
I should leave. This is a mistake,I tell myself to move, but my feet remain rooted to the carpet as her voice continues.
“Yeah, I know. We’ll talk about it more when I see you this weekend.”
Fuck that.
I clench my jaw and force my knuckles against the door before I can talk myself out of it. Three sharp raps echo in the hallway. With any luck, after I confess my feelings to Tatum, Ethan will be a nonissue. A thing of the past I no longer have to worry about.
“Hold on,” Tatum calls out, then softer, “someone’s at my door.”
The muffled sound of footsteps approaches, and I straighten my shoulders, wiping my damp palms against my jeans as the door swings open, and there she is. Raven locks pulled into a messy bun, she’s wearing an oversized Ann Arbor sweatshirt and leggings, and looking so fucking good, I could eat her.
With any luck, if I succeed today, maybe I will.
