What happened?
Caleb
He read your text. Shouted it across the locker room.
The whole fucking team knows now.
Miguel
Fuck. You good?
Caleb
Not really. I told them off, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be a whole fucking thing. He looked a little butthurt, if you know what I mean.
I can almost see his smile in the pause before the next message.
Miguel
You want to come home with me tonight?
Caleb
Yeah.
But not just for the “star athlete” treatment.
Miguel
No?
Caleb
I want to sleep.
With you next to me.
Miguel
Done. Be there in five. Don’t move.
True to his word, five minutes later, he pulls up into the empty spot where Dad’s car was. “Hey,” he says.
There’s chatter behind me from the guys leaving the gym, probably to head back to the dorms or out to eat.
Shit I don’t care about.
“Hey.” I watch him get out and walk around the tailgate to stop at the passenger door. Leaning against it, I take him in. Miguel still has on his work clothes.He probably came here straight from the job site he was working at.
He pushes off the truck, stepping closer. “You played good.”
I huff out a small laugh. “We lost.”
“So? You still looked good doing it.”
I roll my eyes, but my chest loosens a little. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel better.” His voice softens. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”
