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I sat up quickly, my back protesting.

“Did he just howl?” Cally asked with a snort of laughter.

I turned to him as the wolf-man bounded out of the alley in search of … whatever the fuck he was in search of. “This guy is the worst actor I’ve ever seen, and I’ve watched every episode of Riverdale.”

“I’m not interested in his acting, Mikey.”

I didn’t know if it was the matter-of-fact delivery or the shock of Cally referencing his sexuality for the first time since coming out to me, but I laughed so hard my back spasmed and I didn’t even care.

I did care two episodes later when it was tied up in fucking knots and I couldn’t get comfortable.

I tried sitting straight up, pressed against the headboard, my legs stretched out in front of me. Then I pulled them up, but that didn’t work either. If anything, it was worse. I laid on my side across the width of the bed, my head propped on a pillow. I even turned onto my stomach once, but that was pure fucking torture, so it was back to resting against the headboard, a pillow balled up behind me, which, unfortunately, did fuck all to help.

I groaned, pressing my knuckles into the spot. The trainers could have fixed this, but I’d been too afraid they’d convince Coach to bench me for the upcoming Jacksonville game. I couldn’t afford to be labeled fragile.

I was paying for my stubbornness now.

“You told me you were fine,” Cally remarked the next time I shifted positions.

“I am fine,” I grumbled unconvincingly.

He snorted. “Is that why you keep trying to dislocate your shoulder to massage your own back?”

“Shut up,” I murmured.

“You didn’t see the trainers, did you?”

I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“Mikey.” He let out an aggrieved-sounding sigh.

“I tweaked it, that’s all. I’ll be fine by the time we hit the ice in Jacksonville.”

Cally rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV.

I lasted maybe fifteen more minutes before I couldn’t take it anymore.

I scooted off the bed and onto the floor, maneuvering into a seated twist. Then I tried downward dog before transitioning into a pigeon pose, which only made the pain worse.

I eased my leg out from under me and lay face down before realizing how fucking dirty this carpet likely was, and slowly got to my feet, climbing back onto the bed, my body stretched out on my stomach like a starfish.

“Cal?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate to ask, but … will you, uh, rub my back? Please?”

I’d seen Cally startle plenty of times over the last few months. When camp first started, he’d flinch if anyone so much as clapped him on the shoulder. And early on, he’d go stiff as a board if I forgot that I knew this about him and accidentally grabbed hold of him like I would any other teammate. And while he was still like that with everyone else, we were past that now—had been since the night I’d accidentally fallen asleep on his shoulder while watching that spy movie.

Or at least I thought we were.

But Cally’s shoulders were up around his ears, his eyes wide, a deep red flush crawling up his throat.

“Uhh …” He rubbed his palms up and down his thighs.

“Forget it,” I said quickly, hating myself for asking. I knew Cally was weird about touch. “I should probably go back to my room anyhow. I’ll feel better in the morning.” I planted my hands and started to push up off the mattress, but the second I engaged my core, I dropped back down with a hiss.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, clearing his throat. “I can … do it. I can do that.”