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And I would talk to Luke or Eli about this shit, but they are both busy with their boyfriends. Living that blissful life, I guess. I’m not jealous. I could date if I wanted to, I just don’t want to.

I don’t need the distraction with our first game coming up. My grade is steady thanks to Quinn. So the game is the main thing I should focus on. Instead, I’m standing in front of my dresser the night before our first game, holding a pair of underwear that should have been thrown out freshman year.

I wear them every game. They are my lucky charm. The times I didn’t wear them, we lost. So there is some sort of magic in it.

Quinn’s at his desk, actually working on his own homework. He glances over when I shake the briefs out.

“Those have holes,” he says.

I resist the urge to shove them back in my drawer so he doesn’t look at them. I rub the back of my neck. “They’re lucky.”

He takes off his glasses, cleans them, puts them back on, and looks again…squinting this time. “There’s a faded Batman on the front.”

“That’s the lucky part.”

“That cotton looks like it’s losing structural integrity.” He turns in his chair to face me, his arm going across the back of it. “You know there isn’t anything scientific about superstitions. You won in those once probably, and your brain has built a false association.”

I huff, but he’s not done.

“It’s confirmation bias. If you wore new ones and scored, you’d just invent a new rule.”

I clutch the briefs to my chest, mock-wounded. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel about Batman.”

“Tell me how many times did you wear them before you decided they somehow help you play better?” He’s trying not to smile. “One game? Two? That’s not really enough data to form a conclusion. Also they’re see-through in the seat.”

“In the seat?” I laugh.

He looks at me like I’m stupid. “The part you sit on.”

I laugh harder. “I know what it is. But you can say ass, you know.”

“You’d rather equate your backside with a donkey?”

“Quinn,” I say through tears. “You are so literal sometimes.”

He sniffs, attempting to look offended at my laughter, but a smile tugs at his mouth. Which he tries to contain by sinking his teeth into the lower lip. I follow the movement, and fuck me, I’m right back to thinking about his mouth doing more advanced things to me.

I look back at the Batman instead.

“Anyway,” I say, my voice higher than normal. “These go under my gear. So no one will even see them.”

“But I’ll know they are there.”

“Yeah, are you going to picture me in them?” I can’t help teasing him, and he flushes, turning back to his desk abruptly.

Hmmm.

Is that a yes?

I fold the briefs and put them into my bag. “Are you still coming to the game tomorrow?”

“I already said I would.” His ears are still pink, and he doesn’t look at me. He’s writing something in a notebook that looks like a different language, so it probably is French.

“Good,” I tap the back of his chair as I pass. “We can go out and celebrate when we win because of Batman.”

I know he hates crowds, but I’m convinced he would be fine if he was with me. I would be the buffer he needs. And he could let loose a little. I’d like to see it, if I’m being honest.

Quinn’s pen stops. “Out. Like out out?”