“She took it.” It’s not a lie. She did take the shirt, but they don’t need to know about the reaction I received when I presented it to her.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I send the call to voicemail when I see it’s Brantley calling—again. I don’t need another pep talk about the game tomorrow. Last week was an anomaly. I may not officially have Kay back yet, but my head is on straight and my performance won’t be affected by my broken heart.
“I get that your girl is all about her t-shirts and stuff,” Kevin calls out, bending over to line up a shot at the pool table, “but I really hope you have more of a plan than that.”
“Truth,” Noah agrees, groaning as the eight ball sails into the corner pocket with Kev’s shot.
More so now than before, I think as Kay’s words from yesterday play back inside my mind. “Fucking jockholes. Who are you all to think you can use t-shirts against me?”
“All I’m saying”—Kevin’s voice breaks me out of my memories—“is we need to make sure you have your shit together. I swear when I saw her on campus the other day, she left a Kayla-shaped cloud of dust in her wake when she ducked inside the library.”
“Agreed,” Alex adds, scrolling through the Madden menu with the game controller. “It’s one thing for your girl to avoid you, but to avoid us? Not cool.”
I want to be pissed at them for razzing me about something I take so seriously, but I can’t. They have been amazingly supportive of my campaign to win Kay back.
There are times I wish she were talking to me so I could tell her about the guys and how they’ve been. I know she harbored huge fears of people trying to use her if they found out who her brother is, but with the exception of a handful of questions when the news first broke, the guys seem like they couldn’t care less. They’ve been more concerned about not having their friend—Kay, not me—around.
“I don’t think taking wooing advice from a group of bachelors is going to help me much,” I say as I tap another call to voicemail. Geez, Brantley is persistent tonight.
“Dude.” Alex snorts. “I can’t believe you just said wooing.”
“Whatever, bro.” I shrug. “I love her.”
Alex drops the taunting smirk, turning serious. “Respect, man.” He holds out a fist for me to bump, which I do.
“Oh, bruh, this is too good,” Adam chortles as he and two other Alpha brothers enter the den.
My hackles rise at the Cheshire-cat grin blooming on his smarmy face when he spots me in the room. I wish I could kick him out, but as an Alpha, he has as much of a right to be here as the rest of us.
“I think we should set up a whole wall of prop bets for the game against Penn State.” He waves an arm at the back wall, which is coated in chalkboard paint, where the AKs keep odds for each week’s games. “I have a feeling we’re going to be able to tap into a whole new market with this.” He points to something on his phone, and I force myself to ignore him.
I’ve just accepted a controller from Alex to join the Madden game when Adam butts in. “What do you say, Casanova? Wanna be our inside scoop?”
“What the fuck are you going on about?” I keep my attention on selecting my team; he doesn’t deserve the politeness of eye contact.
Adam laughs again like he’s some type of deranged hyena, and when I finally look over, he’s rubbing his hands in glee. All he needs to do is put his pinky to his mouth to complete his Dr. Evil impression.
Before he can answer, the door leading into the den from the hallway swings open with a BANG!, letting in a pissed-off Grayson.
Instinct has me instantly on alert and out of my seat.
“I know you have to leave for The Huntington soon, but can I borrow the Shelby?”
I was not expecting him to ask that. “Why?”
“Em was too impatient to wait for me to get out of practice, so now I need a way to get to Blackwell.”
Why? Why would he need to go to Blackwell?
“What’s wrong with Kay?” She’s the only reason that makes sense.
Trav is the only one I’ve ever trusted to drive my baby, but it’s not the Shelby that has my feet pepper-stepping, ready for action.
“Oh, this is great.” Adam claps. Yes, the motherfucker claps.
“Shut the fuck up, Adam,” Grayson snaps. I don’t know if it’s the curse or the uncharacteristic outburst from the power forward, but it doesn’t matter—whatever it is causes Adam to listen. “She’s fine. I just need to get to her.”
She’s fine my ass. I’m going to catch all sorts of hell from Coach Knight for this, but there’s no fucking way I’m not going with Grayson.
“What. Happened?” I bite out, already pulling my keys from my pocket.
Except for the clenching of his jaw and his hand flexing around his phone hard enough I fear he might crack the screen from the force, he doesn’t react.
“G?” Kay’s name for him slips out. I don’t usually call him by the shorthand, but I’ve also never seen him…so…volatile.
“It seems…” His jaw works side to side as he thinks over what to say. “All the posts about you and Kay have found their way to Penn State with all the ‘you dating the enemy’ bullshit hashtags floating around.”
Fucking Instagram. I’m starting to see why my girl has such an aversion to it.
“What? Have more pictures of her cheering for E at his games surfaced?”
“Oh, shit. You don’t know?” Adam’s chuckles ramp up again, and I’m this close to putting my fist through his face. “Classic.”
“You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?” Fire flashes in Grayson’s eyes.
The atmosphere in the room grows charged as I rack my brain
