“Ask me after,” I mutter, already dreading and anticipating the third period in equal measure.
Ryan, meanwhile, is craning his neck to watch Oliver head down the tunnel. “Do they all shower together?”
Elliot cackles. “And there it is.”
“I’m asking for anthropological reasons,” Ryan insists.
“Anthropological,” I repeat. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“I hate both of you,” Ryan says primly, but he’s fighting a smile.
The Jumbotron is now showing highlights from the period, including Gerard’s spectacular ass-plant. Elliot groans. “He’s never going to let me forget this.”
“Look at it this way,” I offer. “You’re a part of BSU history now.”
“I’d prefer to be a footnote,” Elliot grumbles, but he’s smiling too as Gerard’s fall plays on repeat from multiple angles.
“Does his ass ripple?” Ryan asks, squinting at the Jumbotron through his glasses.
“Indeed, it does,” Elliot sighs reverently.
Before I can vomit, my phone buzzes, distracting me.
Drew
Nice cheering, babe The guys think you’re gonna lose your voice by the third period.
Also, Kyle wants to know if you’re always this aggressive about penalties.
I stare at the texts, my brain short-circuiting onbabe.
What’s the appropriate fake boyfriend response here?
“You’re overthinking,” Elliot says, reading over my shoulder. “Just text back like a normal person.”
“I don’t know how normal people text their boyfriends,” I hiss.
“You know how to text girlfriends, right?” Elliot stares at me inquisitively.Shit. Does he know?
“Sorry, you’re right. I’m overthinking.” Deflection is key here. Elliot is a genius. He could probably sniff the truth out faster than the Ice Queen, and he hates getting involved in other people’s drama.
But I’m not like other people. I’m his best friend.
God, I hate secrets. Nothing good ever comes from them. But I have to keep this to myself, for Drew.
“I need alcohol,” I announce.
“It’s a dry campus event,” Ryan reminds me.
“Then I need to leave.”
“You can’t leave.” Elliot grabs my jersey when I stand. “Drew’s boyfriend doesn’t abandon him mid-game. The Ice Queen would have a field day.”
I hate that he’s right. I slump back in my seat, trying not to think about how I have to do this for every home game. And probably away games. And practices. And team parties. And?—
“You’re spiraling,” Ryan observes.
“I’m fine.”
