He shakes his head, his cheeks flushed as he coughs again.
“Fuck,” he says, clearing his throat.
“Wrong pipe?” I ask as I grab my napkin, wiping my whole mouth so I’m sure not to miss it.
“Something like that,” he responds.
“How about now? We good?” I ask.
Cam’s lips press together, and he nods just as the unmistakable roar of Mack, Andre, and Paul echoes in the bar. They’re like a pack of wild baboons.
I turn to see them dressed in their jerseys, looking drunk already. It’s still pretty early in the night, but the three of them pregame harder than any of my other teammates. Don’t know how they manage to play on the field without dropping from dehydration.
“Brewer!” Mack calls out, hollering to me the minute he sees me. Andre and Paul whoop, too, drawing attention like the gluttons they are. I feel more than see the way Cam tenses beside me. It’s no secret his intolerance for milk is similar to his intolerance for football players. Namely, the ones I play with. He’s a fan of a few of the NFL players, mostly because of the way their asses look in their pants, but whatever.
We’ve both known Mack since high school, since we were on the same team and Cam was always around. When I got the scholarship to Brighton Falls, I wasn’t sure how I would fit in being as the college was over an hour away from home.
A part of me was thrilled to be somewhere no one knew me, but another was utterly terrified.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out Cam got in, too. We’d hoped for it to happen, but wasn’t sure it would. Cam had other options, better options, and I was sad when he didn’t get into them.
At least I’d have my best friend with me. If all else went to shit, I had him, and that would be enough. Who doesn’t want to go to college with their best friend? It was an added bonus that Mack got in here too, because now I knew someone else.
Paul and Andre were sophomores when I started, and they are the seasoned players. Mack and I were the new kids. While they are great, they can be a lot. They are exactly what people think of when you say college football player. Charismatic, loud as hell, and built like a fucking brick house—but of course they have to be, since they’re our linemen.
They aren’t bad friends by any means, and I always feel on edge when they are around. Like part of me fits in, but a bigger part of me doesn’t. But I love the game, so I stay. If only people like Cam enjoyed football… playing it, that is. Not just checking out asses in uniform pants.
“What’s up, man?” Andre says as he claps me on the shoulder. Paul leans in, trying to swipe a wing from Cam’s plate, but he smacks his hand so hard I hear the crack.
“The fuck is wrong with you, man?” Paul gripes, shaking out his hand.
“Get your own food, asshole,” Cam bites.
“Lighten up, Camden,” Andre says. “It’s rude not to share. Or something.”
“It’sCameron,” he says bitterly as he pulls his plate closer to his chest, tearing off the meat of his wing like an angry animal, his gaze more aggressive than Mack on the field after a fumble.
“Whatever,” Andre says as Paul pulls me into his grasp.
“You ready to go fuck shit up tonight?” he asks.
I sigh as anxiety hits me all over again.
Mack thought it would be a good idea to expose me to a few strip clubs before the bachelor party just to get an idea of what I’m getting myself into. Honestly, I think they just wanted an excuse to get drunk and spend money, but that’s what college guys do right?
I suck the hot sauce and ranch off my fingers before wiping them on my napkin.
“Yeah, I just have to, uh… flag the server down, and—”
Cam shakes his head. “Go. I got it.”
“You aren’t coming?” I ask, confused. I told him we were meeting ahead of time, and then the guys would meet us and we could follow them down…
“No, I… have homework to catch up on.”
Andre chuckles. “Of course, you do.”
I dig into my wallet, pulling out two twenties as Cam meets my gaze.
