Page 13 of The Golden Receiver

“Reflexes?”

“Yeah. Gotta have fast reflexes on some of the trails I run.” Because I wasn’t going to alter where I ran just because I’d invited him to run with me.

Kieran studied me for a moment. I was hoping he’d accept the offer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned it down flat, though. I’d figured out just enough about Kieran Sawyer to expect that. Instead, he shrugged. “Don’t know,” he finally said.

“It might help.” Once again, the words left my mouth before the thought had even properly formed in my brain. Now that I’d said it, I wanted him to accept. Maybe I could get to know him, and then maybe we could become friends or whatever. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to get to know him. His grumpy nature intrigued me, and I needed to know more about him. “Just say yes.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

I dug into my still-open gym bag until I found my phone. I didn’t say anything as I created a new contact and shoved my phone toward him. “Give me your number. I’ll text you where I’m planning to start.”

He stared at the phone like it was going to come alive and bite his hand off. I wiggled the phone, and he finally plucked it from my hand. I watched as he typed in his number and handed it back. I sent him a text, just so my number would be on his phone.

“I’ll text you,” I reiterated. “Or you can text me. Just to say that you’re coming.”

“Or that I’m not.”

I refused to accept that as a possible answer. The only possible answer was that he was going to join me for a run. I was determined and stubborn and now that the idea had taken root in my head, I was going to make sure it happened. I would annoy the crap out of him until he agreed. “You can text me to say you’re coming.”

I didn’t wait for him to answer before I tucked the phone back into my bag and started toward Karloff Hall. I heard his footsteps behind me, his scent carried on the breeze to my nose. The acrid scent of disappointment was still there, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been.

Maybe I’d made a difference.

Damn, I hoped I had.

Chapter Five

Kieran

Twenty-four hours had passed since the list had been posted. The list that said I wasn’t good enough. I’d come all this way. I’d left the team where I was the star receiver. I’d left Pops behind. I was a fish out of the damn water, swimming in a pond of something that didn’t move like the water I’d grown up on. And for what? To spend the rest of my college career riding the bench and hoping someone got injured?

Fuck that.

I just kept thinking about it. I just kept replaying the moment I saw that list, saw my name in the second column. I kept feeling that weight settle in my gut and the knowledge wash over me that I hadn’t been good enough. I’d been working my ass off since I came to Creelin, and it hadn’t been enough.

In other words, I was drowning in self-fucking-pity.

I was also playing through that whole situation with Evander. Him following me out of the practice facility, acting like we were friends of some sort. Him looking all hurt and wounded when I snapped at him. I didn’t get that because it wasn’t like we were friends. Why the hell would he look so hurt that I wasn’t embracing him with open arms? But then, maybe I should be. Maybe if I made more effort to get to know my teammates, to blend in on the team, the coaches would notice and take more of a chance on me.

I knew the way teams worked. I’d been on them my whole life. The locker room chemistry mattered on the field, and maybe the coaches were taking that into consideration when they chose who got to be on the field when kick off came.

And that led me right back to the conversation with Evander. More specifically to his offer to help me train.

It kept turning over and over again in my head. On one hand, it might be good to boost my connection with the team. He’d be an easy place to start since he was so damn eager to be my friend, judging by yesterday. On the other hand, he could be annoying as hell. He was all energy, all the time, and I didn’t know if I had the energy to deal with his constant go, go, go. He was one of the loudest voices in the locker room. There were times on the field when I swore he was wiggling with anticipation for his turn.

If he had a tail, then it’d be wagging.

I needed to make a choice. He’d texted me last night, letting me know what time he was going out for a run this morning. I hadn’t shown up. He texted me again tonight to let me know when and where he was starting tomorrow. I kept staring at the text while I replayed the conversation, just laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I needed to think things through.

I rolled off my bed and left my room. I rapped my knuckles on the door to Teagan’s room as I passed, and when he popped his head out, I motioned toward the bonus room. I needed to chat, and I needed to be moving while I did it. I knew better than to think Teagan would want to follow me to the gym or worse, around the campus trails in the late summer heat. The bonus room, my walking pad: it was the better choice.

He followed me into the room and sat at the desk chair while I pulled the walking pad out from under the bed and turned it on.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice soft. “Is it still about not making starter?”

He’d heard me rant about it for a good thirty minutes last night. He wasn’t an athlete, but he’d been up for roles and stuff. He knew how rejection could sting, so he didn’t seem to mind the ranting, rambling, and fear that I just wasn’t good enough.

I wish I could be ashamed that we were about to do a redux of the same stuff he’d heard the night before, just with a twist that came in the form of the person who had gotten what I wanted. “A bit.”