"You're going to put a hole in my ceiling," Tyler says without looking up.
"Haven't yet."
"Key word being 'yet.'" He flips a page in his textbook. "Last night you and Seb were looking cozy."
Catch. Toss. A grin spreads across my face.
"That good, huh?"
"Doc's... yeah." I catch the ball and hold it against my chest. "He stayed. Even after his friends left. Max basically ordered him to sit on my lap and enjoy himself."
"Max is the tiny terrifying one with blue hair?"
"That's him."
Tyler finally looks up, smirking. "You've got it bad, man."
"Shut up."
"You do! Look at you, you're blushing. Gavin Robins, defensive end, two-hundred-and-eighty-plus pounds of muscle, blushing over a pre-med student who barely reaches your shoulder."
"He reaches my chin," I correct. "And I'm not blushing."
"You absolutely are." Tyler tosses his pen at me. I catch it without looking. "It's cute. Disgusting, but cute."
I throw the pen back. Miss on purpose. "How are things with Ethan?"
"Deflecting. Nice." But he's smiling now, too. "Things are good. Really good. He's coming to the exhibition game with me next week."
"I've almost convinced Doc to come too."
"Look at us. Two guys off the market."
Catch. Toss. "Yeah. Look at us."
My phone buzzes on Tyler's bed. I ignore it.
Toss. Catch.
Buzzes again.
"You gonna get that?" Tyler asks.
"Probably just spam."
Third buzz. Tyler raises an eyebrow.
I sigh, setting down the football and reaching for my phone. The screen shows Dad, and my stomach drops straight through the floor.
"Shit."
"What?"
"It's my dad." I stare at the screen like it might bite me. Fourth buzz. "He never calls. Like, ever."
Tyler sits up straighter. "You gonna answer?"
No. Yes. Fuck…
