“Fake kindness and friends are equally as exhausting. And I’ve been told I’m intimidating.”
“By who?” Imposing, sure, he’s a six-foot-something black dude who plays football, but he would have to not look like a cuddle teddy bear if he wanted to be intimidating.
“People.” He shrugs. “You ready to face them?”
“Do I have to?”
“I’m cool to hang out with your mom’s cooking and your stress baking, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you skip.”
“I thought you came to make me feel better, not more pathetic.”
“Come on, let’s drive to the dorms and I’ll walk you to class.”
“That sends a message—” I go to argue.
“Yeah, that I have your back. So does the entire football team. Honestly, a lot of this could have been avoided if you’d gone for Collins.”
“He looks really cozy with Jen.”
“She’ll never be as cool as you.”
“You’re biased by my food bribes.”
“And other things,” he agrees. “By the way, Lacey Hansen asked for your number. I said I’d ask you, but she’s good people. And she’s fierce. Pretty sure she’s why they used your grad pic instead of the one Kinsey posted.”
Though we’ve removed the tags, her post is still out there, with comments like:
FutureMrsJames<3 You’re telling me this slob is related to not one, but two professional athletes? #geneticsareabitch
“Is she on the paper or did she threaten them?” I ask, remembering Friday night when Lacey took on Kinsey like it was nothing.
“She makes the crosswords. Better than the New York Times, if you ask me.”
“Because you were the answer last month,” I remember. “Do all athletes know each other that well? Because I didn’t see any of you at?—”
“Apparently, drunk me told Noah not to dare let anyone know, or let on that he does.” My breath catches at that reveal, that Noah was doing what Parker asked…but then I remember the ball’s no longer in my court, so it doesn’t matter. “I think he either avoided us, or you, depending on who he was with first.”
“And sober you thought that was a good plan?” I try not to sound reproachful, because ultimately, Noah and I are the ones to blame. But still…
“I didn’t find out I’d said that until it was a little too late to backtrack.”
“It’s never too late to be honest,” I argue, then avoid his pointed look. “Do you and Noah hang out after hockey games?” I hate how hopeful I sound, and pray he doesn’t notice, but maybe Noah wasn’t waiting to see if something better came along after every game, he was just making sure wherever he was safe for me and what he thought I needed.
“Not usually…unless we end up at the same parties, but your guy hasn’t been coming to any since my birthday. Probably because he’d rather avoid us than you.”
“He’s not my guy.”
Parker goes to roll his eyes, thinking I’m still in denial, before he sees my face.
“Do I need to make good on my ‘hurt her and I’ll kill you’ threats?”
“Pretty sure we hurt each other,” I argue.
“In my experience, an apology goes a really long way.”
Most of my classes have at least one football player enrolled, who would usually just smile at me when I walked in, before I’d go off to sit on my own, but today they wave me over and don’t take no for an answer. Which feels like overkill at first, but then the whispers start, and the few words I make out feed my insecurities.
“They’ve clearly never heard your brother sing,” Manning points out when a group across from us in the library is loudly comparing me to Dallas, mostly finding me lacking.
