“Hey.” He chuckles. It causes a ripple effect through my body. Each cell knowing it belongs to him, to that voice, to that chuckle.
Drawing the back of my hands over my eyes and clearing the escaping teardrops, I hold up a finger and grab my water bottle. As I open the cap and take a long slug, Casper seats himself next to me. His physique reminds me of a swimmer—his upper body is sculpted with muscles, his legs leaner.
“Shit, sorry about that,” I manage to mumble out the few words once the cap is back on the bottle and I’ve settled my emotions. “How you liking this place so far?” I continue, not wanting to end our interaction, no matter how small.
“Yeah, it’s okay, I guess.” He pulls out his pad and pencil tapping the end against his lips. “No real difference to any other school.”
I don’t answer him, watching the pencil bounce against his full, pink, bottom lip is currently taking every ounce of my attention.
“Dude,” the sharpness of his voice pulls me from my fascination with his mouth. The moment my eyes meet his I know I’ve done wrong. His eyes are narrowed, lips pursed, and there’s a slight blush creeping across his cheeks.
“Sorry, yeah… I mean, n-no… no real difference,” I murmur.
Casper leans back in his chair and draws in a sharp breath. “Football facilities look good, though.” His voice is a little tight, but I’m glad he’s decided to ignore my blatant staring.
My brain turns over a couple of times before all my faculties are back in play, and I catch onto the fact he’s just mentioned football. “You play football?”
“Yeah, tight end,” he replies, and I want to comment something smutty, but I manage to hold it in.
“Offense,” I reply, and his eyes widen slightly.
“Which position.”
“Center normally.” I shrug.
“The team looks good by the stats I’ve seen. I guess we’ll be on the team together.”
“Guess so.”
Throughout the class we’re both quiet, pencil lead against parchment paper is all I can hear along with the low hum of the hanging lights. When class is over, we make our way out, and I clear my throat. “So, Casper, you heading to lunch?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other football players,” I offer.
“Sweet.” He walks in step with me. I’m reminded of how different our pace was last night. How much more relaxed we both were.
“Guys, this is Casper, the new tight end,” I tell everyone when we arrive at the table.
They all grunt words of ‘hi’ or ‘sup’ before going back to their food and conversations. We take seats at the table and start eating our lunch, chatting about the latest football game. I know when Tarrant arrives because they all start jeering him. The guys on my team love my brother. Scratch that, everyone loves my brother. I smirk up at him and shake my head when his eyes meet mine. His lip twitches and he takes a seat opposite, keeping a space for Laura and Morgan. A couple of freshman on the team try to take the seats. Tarrant looks up and slowly shakes his head, pointing his finger at them, and then toward the other end of the table. He—silently—denies them the seats, and they rush off with their tails between their legs.
“Tarrant, this is Casper. New to school, and it looks like the new football team’s tight end. Casper this is my twin brother, Tarrant,” I introduce them, and they nod at each other.
When Laura and Morgan arrive there’s a flurry of introductions, and my thoughts are momentarily taken from Casper as I focus on Morgan. She’s still acting strangely. Aaron, her ex-boyfriend, tries to talk to her and she snaps his head off. Then she quickly proceeds to get up and leave the table. Laura and I both stand at the same time and rush after her. All thoughts of Casper are pushed to the back of my mind as I barge through the crowd trying to catch up to Morgan, who’s surprisingly quick for someone so little.
“There...” Laura pants, pointing to the left. We spot her rushing around the side of the building, and we chase after her. “Morgan!” Laura shouts as we turn the corner, but she doesn’t slow down.
Pumping my legs harder, I catch her easily grabbing her by the shoulders. “Whoa there, M,” I mutter pulling her to a stop.
She spins around and reigns closed fist punches against my chest. She’s hitting me, but I can see the tears pouring from her eyes, and I know this isn’t about me. “Shhh,” I murmur hauling her against my chest. Laura walks around and holds her from the other side. We’re making a Morgan sandwich, trying to give her all the comfort she so obviously needs.
“I-I f-fucked up every-y t-thing,” she cries.
“I’m sure you haven’t, M. Talk to us.” Laura’s voice is tentative, she’s approaching the situation carefully, not wanting Morgan to clam up again.
“I…” Morgan shakes her head against my chest. “I c-can’t.”
“Tequila,” I offer. “We’ll do Tequila, and we can talk.”
“No. Not t-this time,” Morgan starts.
“Morgan,” Laura huffs out her name.
“No.” Morgan’s voice is stronger now. She pulls away from me, and in turn, Laura takes a step back too. “I need to figure stuff out on my own this time.” She glances up, her eyes pleading with me silently, before turning toward Laura. “I love you two…” she reaches out her hands and grips onto both of us, “…I really do. But I’m not ready to share. I have some things I need to figure out, and it has to be me, alone.”
