Page 9 of The Golden Receiver

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Not a morning person.”

“Then why did you schedule yourself for an early class?”

“Everyone said that the professor that does this section is one of the best in the department, and it’s the only time she offers it.”

That made sense. I hadn’t looked up any of my professors. I didn’t know the reputation of any of them or if they were supposed to be hard teachers or hard graders. I’d just picked the classes I needed for my major that fit into my football schedule. I’d find out later if it was another item added to the list of things I regretted since moving to Creelin, but I didn’t think it would make the cut. Classes were classes.

“Are you going to be able to function in class? If you’re half asleep?”

“I’ll cope,” he said as the elevator doors opened. We stepped in together. “I don’t know how you get up so early to go to the gym of all places. I don’t even remember the last time I went to the gym, and I sure as hell wouldn’t wake up early for it.”

I laughed as I pressed the button to the ground floor. “I don’t feel right if I don’t work out in the morning,” I admitted. “Even during the summer, I have a whole routine I could do at my Pops’ place without any equipment. Doesn’t feel as good as going to a real gym though.”

The look he gave me had me wondering if I’d somehow grown a second head.

We kept chatting as we made our way across campus, and the conversation only died down when we had to split to go to our respective buildings.

It wasn’t hard to find my class. It was on the first floor, and the lecture hall doors were propped open. A TA with light blue skin stood over to the side, making sure everyone knew what class they were walking into. It was really convenient. I walked inside and found a seat in the middle of the lecture hall. I liked sitting in the middle of the lecture halls. No one ever paid much attention to the people in the middle. The professors tended to keep their attention to the people around the edges: the front of the room, the back, the people sitting on the aisles. The people in the middle faded into the sea of faces, and I liked it that way.

I didn’t need to stand out in the classroom. Only on the football field. In class, I preferred to do the work and not draw any attention to myself. It was the best way to make a good grade without any fuss.

The professor started class, and it was just like the first day at my old college. Just going over the syllabus and expectations. It was the kind of class that could have been an email, and I just had to hope the professor was more interesting when he started covering the actual subject matter. Otherwise, I was going to have a hard time staying focused. Hell, I might have a hard time showing up to lecture if it was all just a regurgitation of the textbook.

Fingers crossed.

But the professor somehow managed to take up the whole class talking about the syllabus. Class ended right on time, and then I had a good hour to kill before my next one. I found a place on campus to sit near my next class. I’d scheduled that break on purpose, just in case I had any last-minute homework I needed to catch up on before class. It was one of the first communications classes I was taking, and I knew I needed to do well in it. It was a prerequisite for most of the classes in my major.

I showed up for class ten minutes early. The classroom wasn’t a lecture hall. Instead, it was a traditional style classroom with rows of desks. I found one in the middle and started to settle in. People filed in around me, filling in seats and talking loudly with their friends. I didn’t have any friends in that class. Not surprising. The closest thing I had to a friend on this campus was Teagan. Isaiah, maybe, if I really wanted to push the definition of friend to the absolute limit.

Which is why I noticed when someone slid into the desk next to mine. I felt eyes on me, and I forced myself to look over. I figured it was probably someone from the football team, and I should have known it was going to be him. Somehow, I was still a bit surprised to see Evander staring at me.

And I do mean staring.

His amber eyes were practically drilling holes right into my body. It was uncomfortable. I had to say something. “Can I help you?”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. It sounded sharp to my own ears, rude even. But then, most people might say the way he was staring at me was rude. I didn’t know if the two instances of rudeness canceled each other out, and honestly, it didn’t matter one way or another. I wasn’t going to be apologizing for the way I questioned him, and I wasn’t going to hold my breath for him to apologize for staring either.

“I was just thinking about saying hi,” he declared, a grin forming on his face. His smile was so bright it made his eyes almost look like they were glowing. Hell, they might have been glowing. I’d seen weirder in the few weeks I’d been on campus, and that was just with the football players. “But I wasn’t sure if it was going to be welcome. Plus, you looked busy. Why were you arranging your pens like that?”

I looked down at the three pens on my desk. They weren’t arranged any special way.

Evander must have sensed my confusion because he sighed. “I mean like all straight and together. And three of them? Why do you have three pens? My roommate, Preston, he always has a bunch of highlighters out, but they’re different colors.”

And my pens were just three black pens.

I sighed. “Been too many times where I open a pen and it doesn’t work. Don’t like to waste time digging when I should be paying attention.” It was a whole thing.

“And if anyone needs to borrow a pen, it’s already right there.”

I blinked. Who the fuck would be asking me to borrow a pen? Why would someone be asking to borrow a pen? We were in college. From what I’d noticed, most people had their own pens. Actually, most people were whipping out laptops to take notes. I always found that too distracting. I was prone to browsing different tabs when I had the option. It was better for my grades to handwrite my notes.

Evander was still staring at me like he was expecting some kind of answer about the pen thing. I had a feeling he was going to be a distraction in the class, but I could handle that. Maybe. When I didn’t answer, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Did you have a good weekend? What did you think about weight training today?”

“It was good.” I didn’t know what else I could say about weight training. It was weight training. It didn’t really change from one school to another. The only thing that really changed was the fact that the Creelin weight room was a lot better equipped than the weight room at my old college. It was full of state-of-the-art equipment, and they had personal trainers on the roster. I didn’t say all that to Evander. It seemed like a lot of words that didn’t need to be said.

“Just good? What kind of training did you do at your old school?”

Okay, he was starting to get under my skin. He was just chattering on and on, and I really needed him to stop. How the fuck was I supposed to focus on class if I had Mr. Chatterbox sitting next to me? I didn’t have any faith in his ability to shut the fuck up when the teacher started talking. The professor walked in, and I knew I had to make a decision. I could either sit here and risk Evander distracting me, or I could find another seat.