“Like you’d knowanythingabout it,” Dawson snarked back.
Cam’s eyes went wide. Surprised. “Why, you wanna show me, Daws?” he teased.
Shit.
Joey started to laugh, even though they were all exhausted.
“Yeah, he called your ass there, bud,” Joey said.
Dawson rolled his eyes. But he felt it, the press of Cam’s suggestion against his skin, even if it was a joke, as he stripped down in the locker room and staggered into the showers.
Clearly, he needed to get laid. Especially if he was thinking about showing the rook the pleasure of a well-placed bruise. Of a grip that was a shade too tight.
He was still feeling it after grabbing his burrito bowl at the cafeteria. Knew he should go sit with Aidan, who was pressedthigh to thigh, laughing at something Levi was showing him on his phone. That was definitely the safer choice. Maybe a slightly aggravating one, if only because the pair of them were so smug. Trevor and Lane were sitting at the same table, exchanging glances like they were currently eating shards of glass. So they were being likethat.
But then he looked over, at one of the far end tables, and Cameron was sitting there—not alone, that would have made the decision easy—along with a few of the backup defensive guys.
Brynn had never believed him when he’d told her about the semi-rigid hierarchy of the NFL cafeteria situation. “It sounds like we’re back in high school and I’m worried about the popular girls,” she’d said, rolling her eyes.
But it could be exactly like that, andworse.
It was up to leaders like Dawson to make sure that it never got that bad.
He sighed heavily and took his tray over to where Cam was sitting.
“Hey,” he said to Cam, who looked up in surprise. Like he’d written off Dawson ever sitting with him. Like he’d just expected Dawson to take his stupid ass right over to where Aidan was sitting.
“Hey,” Cam said, through a bite of chicken caesar wrap.
The two defensive guys eyed him like they thought he was lost.
And wow, that was a problem. How had things gotten this bad without Dawson even realizing it?
He gave them both a nod and then told himself he could do better than that. “Hey, I’m Dawson,” he said, and took in their surprise that a vet and a starter, probably a guy that would end up in the Hall of Fame with a gold jacket one day, was acknowledging their existence.
Double shit.
“Hey,” the one with the broader shoulders said. “I’m Duke.”
“Jack,” the other one said.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Dawson said. There were only fifty-two other guys on the fucking roster. There was no excuse for him to not know everyone’s name.
“I was on the Ravens’ practice squad two years ago,” Duke said. “Good team.”
Dawson barely held back the face he wanted to make.
Real nice fucking team. Letting him go like he was washed up and old, just because he’d missed a few kicks.
But he was trying not to be bitter about it. Not succeeding, maybe, buttrying.
“Oh yeah,” Dawson said, trying for casual agreement.
“Come on, dude,” Cam argued, “you can’t think that, not after they treated Dawson here like a piece of trash.”
Dawson’s eyebrows skidded up, but Duke didn’t look surprised.
“Yeah, we know you’re obsessed with Hall,” Duke teased.
