Page 79 of Break Points and Face Offs

“I’m Priestley Rosenthal,” I offer, giving him a chance to redeem himself. All I get is a blank stare.

This kid actually looks like he’s going to try to stop me from entering. I push past him easily and make my way to the living room. I’m about to enter into a practiced tirade when I notice that Ben is curled up on the couch with a blanket around his legs.

My stomach drops.

From the first day Benjamin Harris turned up at the fraternity house, I felt a certain responsibility to mold him and stop him from doing stupid shit. He reminds me of Jamie. Now he’s the vice president of the fraternity and captain of the tennis team and—though he’d never admit it—I take some credit for those achievements. He may not have liked me much while I was his president, but he certainly flourished, and that’s the main thing.

“Are you sick? You look like shit.”

I know it wasn’t a very nice thing to say, but when I’m worried about someone, I default to attack.

“Hello, Priestley. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“What happened? Why did you guys let Stanford win at Indian Wells?”

Archer steps into the room. As always, Big Mouth has something to say. “Maybe if you’d deemed tennis important enough to keep playing, we might have won.”

I ignore him, focusing on Ben. “I thought you guys had it covered with that hot shot from Germany?”

Ben’s face flushes, but then, he blushes so easily. Just like Jamie.

“And Ben’s obviously sick.” I add. “Look at him, he’s probably got a fever.”

“He’s not sick,” Archer says. “It’s a broken heart.”

I take another look at Ben, my stomach drops. Poor Ben. He looks crestfallen. In all my time as his fraternity brother, I never saw him in love with anyone—maybe he had a crush on Nathan, but that was puppy love. This seems different. This runs deep.

A stupid, primal desire to protect him bubbles up and I have to stop myself from growling who broke your heart?

Keeping my voice level, I ask, “Who?”

“The German hot shot,” Archer says.

Ben looks mortified. Luckily, Nathan jumps in and saves him any further embarrassment.

“Okay, that’s enough, leave Ben out of it. Priestley, what are you doing here?”

It takes me a moment to drag my eyes from Ben. That protective instinct taking over. I remember why I’m here—the other person I’m supposed to be protecting.

“I am part of the alumni. Are you suggesting I’m not welcome here anymore?”

Nathan rolls his eyes.

“Of course not, it’s just⁠—”

“I’m looking for Jamie. He does live here, doesn’t he?”

“Not yet,” Archer says. “He’s still a pledge so he’s not officially⁠—”

I glare at him until he wilts.

“He’s at the library, with Travis.”

“Who the hell is Travis?”

“Texas Travis,” Archer says with a smile. I don’t return it. Idiot.

“They’re friends. Travis is a freshman, he plays on the tennis team with us. He’s a nice guy.”