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“Rude,” laughs West, walking out of my room with my charger in his hand. “Not quite getting why you’d choose to turn down a sure thing of a threesome, but your call, QB.”
Yeah. I’m wondering the same thing myself. Gabriel gives me a brief once-over, clearly as confused as the rest of us about my new monk-like tendencies, before heading down the stairs.
“Let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’m starving.”
Within twenty minutes, the four of us are walking across the Green toward the cluster of food trucks that are semi-permanently parked along the edge of campus.
It’s cold tonight and my hands are jammed into the pockets of my jeans. I’m wearing a jacket over my t-shirt. It’s our first night out in a while. The pre-season is all about training, training and more training. We don’t have a lot of downtime.
West is his usual Golden Retriever self, cracking jokes and lightening the mood. “Hey, Elias, are you calling dibs on Bella tonight?”
“Bella. Which one was Bella?”
“The one without the eyelashes,” Jake clarifies.
“Ah. No, I’m not calling dibs on either one of them. They’re all yours.” I don’t sound entirely happy about it, and I’m not. Those girls were cute enough.
“You sure?” West punches my arm playfully. “I don’t want to break any bro codes.” West is a shit-hot wide receiver but we both know I could kick his ass if there was ever any reason to.
“Go nuts, Westie.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he grins.
“Having a dry spell, Chief?” Gabe jokes, but my friends have noticed that I haven’t hooked up in a while. Tonight isn’t the first night of my drought. Not even close.
I dodge the question. “Just focusing on football.”
“He’s in the zone.” I can always count on Jake to back me up. “He’s been busy.”
It’s true. Even though classes haven’t started yet, I’ve landed three new sponsorship deals in the past few weeks, which require meetings and Zoom calls and whatnot. And when I’m not at practice, I’m working out. It’s a big year and I’m determined to be ready for it.
Trust West to go for the jugular. “Just don’t lose your edge, man. You’ll get pent-up if you go too long without.”
“I’m not fucking pent-up.” But he’s right. I’m pent-up as fuck.
Gabriel, Jake and I have been living together since sophomore year. We shared a dorm freshman year and hit it off during football season.
West moved in with us last year. He’s from California and looks the part. He has blond hair, blue eyes and the sunny personality of a guy who grew up surfing in Malibu. Which is exactly what he did. His dad is an aging movie star I’d never heard of, but the guy must have made serious bank at some point because his beach house is epic. We spent some time there last summer.
Gabriel and Jake went to the same high school in Virginia and have known each other since third grade. Even so, they’re as different as two people can get. Gabe has an IQ of 145 or something ridiculous. He’s a business major, minoring in finance and he’s already started two of his own investment portfolios, one for himself and one for his friends, me included. He’s also a genius on the football field. He’s a running back who has a knack for being in the right place at precisely the right time. I don’t think football is his passion. It was more of a case of football choosing Gabe than Gabe choosing football. He’s just so damn good at it that he can’t help but stick around because everyone on his team wants him to.
Jake, on the other hand, lives and breathes football. He’s our star linebacker. He’s 6’4’’ and the most laid-back guy I’ve ever met—except on the field, where his focus is unparalleled. He got a full ride to Hawthorne on a football scholarship, like we all did, but it’s safe to say the academics are just a formality to him. He gets by because willing women clamber over themselves to write his essays for him. I’ve rarely seen him read a book but he knows every football statistic known to humankind.
Jake’s usually the kind of guy that nothing bothers but he seems wound up tonight.
All four of us order burgers and fries and sit at one of the tables set up under the rows of hanging lights. We order so much food the guy gives us free cokes. We’re part of the reason these truck owners never leave campus. All five mini-restaurants are open until three a.m. and do a thriving business since they’re parked between the rows of dorms and fraternity houses. One block further south is the main street where the student bars are located.
A procession of people come and talk to us while we’re eating, most of them wondering where we’re headed tonight.
By the time we get to the party, the place is packed.
The girls who came to the house are already here. Within five minutes West has Bella on his lap on the couch and the two of them are locked in a full-on make out session.
“Get a room,” Jake yells at them.
Gabe returns with four beers. Girls are swarming around us like honeybees. It’s the first party of the year, I’m in the best physical condition of my life and the NFL scouts have already started reaching out. I should be celebrating.
I seriously don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. I swore senior year was going to be different and so far it is, but not in the way I was expecting.
