“So you’re not redshirting this year.”
It wasn’t a question really, but I answered anyway. “I’ve already wasted four years away from the game. Can’t see the point of wasting another one.”
I didn’t add that I planned to finish my degree in four years so I wouldn’t hold Taryn back. As it was she had one more year of undergrad followed by two years of grad school, which meant we’d have to make some plans for my last year anyway. I didn’t need to complicate things with an extra year so I could “grow into” the game. I wasn’t some gangly freshman. At 6’2” and 215 pounds, I was already the size college coaches looked for in a receiver. They didn’t need to redshirt me in order to grow me.
“You don’t advertise your cockiness, but you sure are packing some.” He laughed.
“I know how to stand out without being a jerk.” I tugged my T-shirt over my head and stepped into my jeans. “Makes it easier to fit in with a houseful of hotshot players who’ll be playing on Sundays long before I graduate.” I smirked.
Callahan grinned back at me. “Glad you decided to join the Wildcats, Danny.” He sat on the bench to lace up his sneakers and asked casually, “What made you decide to come to Mountain State?”
“I bet it’s a girl,” Finn said as he joined us.
Giving my attention to lacing on a pair of work boots, I schooled my features into something bland. “What makes you think that?” I asked, relieved my tone sounded unconcerned.
“Tamatoa saw you walking down the street on Saturday with a brunette with a sexy-as-hell walk,” he said, his eyes dancing.
I seared him with my glare, and the grin on his face dropped right off. “How would you know how she walks?”
He put up his hands. “The warrior child’s words, not mine.”
“She’s a friend from high school. And she deserves your respect.” As an afterthought, I added, “Tamatoa’s too.”
Bax wandered over to join the conversation. “Think you hit a nerve, there, Finnegan.”
One thing I’d noticed about the big middle linebacker was his insightfulness despite his penchant for wearing funny T-shirts. Today’s iteration read: “I’m not an electrician, but I can light up your day.”
“Not at all,” I said. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
Glancing down at it and back up, he smirked. “Truth in advertising.”
I cracked up at his cockiness, which had me clueing in to the tension in my shoulders. I pulled in a discreet breath and consciously relaxed.
“Anyway, I learned a few things while I was in the military. Showing respect for women shows respect for yourself.” I picked up mine and Callahan’s wet towels and walked them over to the hamper at the end of the row of lockers. “We had a female captain, one hell of a pilot. The enlisted guys who focused on the sexy way her hips moved when she walked across the tarmac rather than on the orders she issued were real sorry when she made sure they got assigned the shittiest jobs for KP.” I chuckled.
Speculation crossed Callahan’s face. “You still haven’t answered the question. Why Mountain State?”
I shrugged, not willing to let him see the truth of what Finn had guessed. “Wildcat football. Everyone at Central Valley High was a Wildcats fan. Hard not to get caught up in the team.” I picked up my duffel bag, giving my roommates a clear hint. “Plus, MSC has an excellent rep for taking care of vets who come to school here. And a kick-ass engineering program.”
All of that was true, but the reason I wanted to play for the ’Cats had everything to do with the gorgeous brunette with a sexy-as-hell walk I’d fallen for more than five years ago.
Mercifully, they all took the hint, picking up their duffel bags too, and we headed out of the facility.
“What are your plans for this afternoon?” Finn asked as we neared our vehicles in the parking lot. “ACODrematch maybe?” The hope in his voice was almost pathetic.
From what I’d seen so far, Finn was addicted to playing video games. I gathered Callahan and Bax were more casual about them, which left Finn on his own more often than not.
“Can’t. I’m headed out for a job interview.”
“I hope you can function without sleep, dude, ’cause you aren’t going to get much between classes and practice and a job,” Callahan warned.
“Can’t be helped. Until someone wants to sign a walk-on to an NIL contract”—I smirked—“I don’t have another choice if I’m going to pitch in my share for groceries.”
“Where are you interviewing?” Bax asked.
“Got something lined up with a tire shop downtown. Hopefully, the manager is a ’Cats fan or a patriot—or both. Someone who’s willing to work around my schedule.” I tossed my duffel bag into the trunk of my Mustang.
“Good luck, I guess?” Callahan said.
