“I hate this,” I said, voice low.
Tanner’s head turned. “Hate what?”
“Having to be careful. Not being able to—” I stopped. Started again. “You’re here, and I can’t even hold your hand.”
His jaw unclenched. The careful neutrality cracked, showing the exhaustion underneath.
“Four more weeks,” he said. “Then you’re done.”
“Three games. Four with the bowl game.”
“Then you’re done,” he repeated. “And we can stop pretending.”
“Yeah.”
Tanner’s knee pressed against mine under the bar. Not obvious, not enough for anyone to notice. Just pressure, warmth, a reminder that we were in this together.
“I keep thinking about later,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it. “When we’re home.”
My stomach tightened. “What about it?”
“I keep thinking about—” He stopped, cheeks flushing. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
His eyes met mine, and I saw it there— The want he usually kept banked, the hunger he’d been sitting on all night while I played the part of someone who didn’t need him.
“Later,” he said. “When we’re alone.”
I had to look away before I did something stupid. Like kiss him in front of my entire team.
We lasted another hour.
Tanner held his own better than I expected. He talked to Davis about biomechanics, let Terrence drag him into a conversation about the defensive line’s footwork, and even laughed at Jenkins’s terrible jokes about punters. But I could see him fraying at the edges—his smile getting tighter, his weight shifting like he was ready to bolt.
When he caught my eye across the room and tilted his head toward the door, I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m heading out,” I told Terrence. “Early morning.”
“It’s Saturday night.”
“I know.”
He gave me a look that said he saw right through the excuse. “Your roommate holding up okay?”
“Better than I expected.”
“He’s all right.” Terrence nodded, something genuine in his expression. “Wasn’t sure what to make of him at first, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Knows his stuff too. That helmet research he was talking about? Pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
“Bring him around again sometime.” Terrence grinned. “If he can survive this crowd, he can handle anything.”
Outside, the November air bit through my jacket. The parking lot was still full, most of the crowd still inside riding the high of a win that meant something. I just had to hold the sides of my life together a little longer.
Tanner was already at the truck, arms wrapped around himself, breath fogging in the streetlight. He’d untucked his shirt at some point, and his hair was mussed from running his hands through it—a nervous habit I’d cataloged months ago. He looked exhausted and relieved and something else I couldn’t name.
“Sorry,” he said when I reached him. “I know you wanted to stay longer.”
