Quint and Zane both groan, and Slate shakes his head. “I’m guessing he’s played that card more than a few times,” I whisper loudly to Slate.
“Always,” he mumbles next to me.
“Nobody cares about March Madness,” Quint spouts off.
Reid pulls out his phone and reads. “An estimated sixty to one hundred million brackets will be filled out this year.”
“Sixty million to a hundred million?” I repeat in shock. I look at Slater and then at Quint. “Sorry, Boys. I think he’s got you both beat.”
Quint fake whines. “No. Football is America’s sport.”
“It’s really not,” Slater interjects.
I look at him and whisper. “It kind of is.” He turns that scowl on me, and I give him an apologetic look. “Sorry, but it is,” I whisper.
The guys continue arguing about which sport is the best, and I start to fade a little. My few hours of sleep earlier were not enough; I’m dragging now. I'm feeling the nights of no sleep this week. After a few minutes, I finally get my pillow where I want it, so I can try to sleep for a little bit. I cover up with my blanket, all the while still listening to the conversation flowing around me. It’s relaxing and peaceful, and I find myself drifting off in spite of the loud voices.
When I open my eyes next, there’s a weight on my head that keeps me from moving. I really slept hard and am trying to come out of a deep sleep, so it takes me a moment to get my surroundings. I finally remember that I’m in the van with the guys, headed back to campus. I address the weight on my head next. It takes me no time to realize that it’s Slater’s head on top of mine, weighing it down. I can hear him breathing evenly, so I can tell he’s asleep. I want to move, but I don’t want to wake him up. I’m sure he’s exhausted from his game. I must move a little too much, though, because I feel him shift next to me. The weight comes off my head, and I lift my head. I feel my cheeks heat, because I realize right in that moment that I had my head on his shoulder.My headwas onSlater Thorne’s shoulder.I situp slowly, unsure how to respond. I decide to handle it the way I do everything else in life. “Sorry, I fell asleep on your shoulder.”
Slater glances over at me, and those dark gray eyes meet mine. “I’m not.”
I blink slowly, still trying to come out of the coma I was in. “You’re not what?” I ask in confusion.
“I’m not sorry you slept on me.” I feel my face heat, and I stare at him, completely unsure what to say.
“This is your stop, Tessa,” Zane says from the front seat. His words snap me out of my stupor.
“Oh, thanks.” I start gathering my stuff. Quint hops out of the van, and Slater climbs out next. After I make sure I have everything, I move towards the front. “Thanks for the ride, Zane.”
“You’re welcome; I’m glad it worked out for you to come.”
Evie hops out of the van ahead of me. When I climb out, she’s waiting with a hug. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for a great day.”
She and Quint climb back in, and I turn to Slater. “Have a great night.”
“I’m walking you in.”
Chapter 12
Tessa
“Oh. You don’t have to.”
He takes my pillow and my blanket out of my hands. “I want to.” He starts forward, and I follow him. He opens the door for me and then follows me inside and up the stairs. When we get upstairs, you can definitely tell it’s a Saturday night. There’s music pumping from somewhere, and there are so many girls coming and going, it’s hard to get through the hallway. We finally make it to my door. Just before I can open it, I hear my name.
“Tessa!”
I turn to see not one but two redheads. “Hey, Faith. Hey, Felicia.” But neither of them are looking at me; they’re looking at the very recognizable and extremely good-looking soccer player next to me.
Faith flips her hair over her shoulder and gives Slater a beaming, perfect smile. “Hi, I’m Faith.”
Not to be outdone, Felicia quickly adds, “And I’m Felicia.”
My manners finally kick in, and I turn to Slater. “These are my suitemates. And this is—” I don’t get to finish my thoughts.
“Slater Thorne,” one of them says for me.
