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“Really? That sucks. Where did they end up?” I’m a complete asshole for complaining when it’s possible that some students aren’t able to attend school at all.
“In the old retirement home.”
I narrow my eyes. They were working on those buildings when we left for the summer. It’s more like a village seeing as how it’s a handful of small luxury houses. There was a whole ordeal about it when some billionaire from Austin started building it right outside of the city limits. From what I heard, they never had one person sign a lease to live there. It just stood empty. “Remodel” probably meant a fresh coat of paint and changing out the air conditioner filters.
“I’ll take it,” I tell him.
Coach chuckles. “It’s not an option. We need all the athletes on campus.”
“I think—”
Silence fills the line, and I know the man hung up on me. He’ll probably make me run until I puke the first day of practice for acting like a little bitch.
“Grown men don’t complain. They endure.”
He’s famous for spitting that at us when we even look like we’re going to open our mouths and disagree with him or other coaches on staff.
Knowing calling him back will get me nowhere, I pocket my phone and head to the sports facilities.
I can still appreciate the grandeur of the Lindell University campus. The trees are taken care of, lawns manicured, and buildings sparkling clean.
But it’s the sight of the entire complex that takes my breath away every time.
Even in the foul mood I’m in now, I can appreciate what a gift this place is. Traveling all over for the away series makes me appreciate it even more. Donations from former athletes turned pros are put to good use, and the school is always sure to take care of everyone. That’s why the athletic dorms were being remodeled a mere six years after the last remodel.
The hallway to the locker room is empty, but I’m not alone. I can hear raucous laughter coming from several places in the building.
The door to the supply closet opens just as I get near it, and I have to step out of the way so I don’t get run over by the guy backing out of it.
When he spots me, his eyes widen as if he’s just been caught doing something he knows he should be ashamed of.
I look to the door, wondering if I wait here long enough if the guy’s girlfriend is going to come out, looking just as sweaty and red in the face.
“Alexander,” I say in greeting.
“Andrews,” he returns, his throat working on a swallow.
“Helping out the janitorial staff this semester?” I ask, once again angling my head toward the closed door.
I don’t know the man well, but he’s sort of linked to Cerberus. Jinx, or Miles as he knows him, is his cousin and a Cerberus member. Jinx’s brother is a math professor here as well.
“Something like that,” he answers, nervously cupping the back of his neck. “See you around.”
Needing the distraction, I wait for him to disappear down the hallway before shoving open the closed door. There isn’t a woman straightening her clothes, making Collins Alexander being in there alone even weirder.
I pulled the door closed and walk away. Wondering what the hell that guy was doing isn’t enough to distract me from the semester I’m facing. Only a ten-mile run, and utter exhaustion will ease that burden.
Silas is in the locker room, shooting the shit with several other guys when I enter. He gives me a look of sympathy when I step inside.
“Andrews ended up with Matthews,” Silas informs everyone.
Several guys cringe, and it has everything to do with our inability to get along rather than an issue with Rick.
“Trade you,” Ryan Jericho mutters as he leans over to tie up his shoes.
“He ended up with Calhoun,” Silas says.
“Fuck, man. That sucks.”
Jericho looks up at me with hopeful eyes, but I have to shake my head. I’ll have moments alone even with Rick as a roommate. Calhoun’s odors have the ability to seep into everything.
“Roomie!”
We all turn our eyes to the boisterous noise.
“What the actual fuck?” someone mutters.
The man we were just discussing, Todd Calhoun, walks up with a wide smile on his face, but he isn’t the Calhoun we all know and have come to avoid.
Calhoun claps Jericho on the back, the raggedy beard he always had now gone, revealing a strong jaw and perfectly white teeth. He’s sporting a nice haircut and designer clothes.
“Good to see you guys.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Gotta piss.”
Jericho meets my eyes.
“Still want to trade?” I ask hopefully.
He’s still too stunned to answer.
Chapter 12
Rick
It’s exhausting avoiding the one place I should be eager to return every evening. The dorm room has become the bane of my existence. I avoid it at all costs, staying out from early in the morning until late in the evening.
