I give myself a mental facepalm because, data-entry error. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”
Enzo shrugs. “Truth be told, I’m kind of jealous you’re competing. I couldn’t find a team to work around my football schedule. You’re lucky.”
I snort. Hardly. Going it alone is probably closer to insanity. Even my advisor thinks so. At first I thought he was just citing the rules, but the further I go down this rabbit hole, the more I’m sweating the scope of work required. Problem is, I’m used to doing things on my own. It’s how I was raised and the idea of needing help rankles. Besides, having a teammate means giving up control, and I’m not a fan of putting my fate in someone else’s hands.
I watch as Enzo stands and turns back toward his own table, shoulders slumped. He got an A from Beck, which means he’s meticulous. And he found the error in my calculations in just a matter of minutes. Still, the competition is important. Placing in the top three guarantees interviews with some of the top engineering companies in the country.
And not finishing on time guarantees you won’t place at all.
“Hey, Enzo?” I call, the words tumbling out before I have time to change my mind. “I actually entered solo, but it’s not too late to add a partner.” I pause, and he looks at me in surprise. “I—I have a design concept, but there’s still a lot of work to do on the final prototype. I could really use a sharp pair of eyes for validation and drafting the report. If you’re interested.”
“Yeah?” he says, flashing me a giant grin as he sits back down at the table.
“Yeah.” There’s a nervous flutter in my belly. Please don’t let this be a mistake. I have so much riding on this competition. I steal a glance at Austin, who’s pretending not to eavesdrop, although he hasn’t turned the page in his book since I opened my mouth. Then it hits me. This must be what he feels like on a daily basis, shouldering the burdens of the team, and the expectations of his family and fans, every decision feeling like it’s make-or-break under that kind of pressure.
I shake off the thought.
What Austin and I have isn’t about empathy or shared experiences. I don’t need—or want—to get in his head. No, the only brain I need to pick is my new partner’s.
Enzo and I spend the rest of the study hall reviewing my design, and when I meet Austin in the parking lot an hour later, I’m not thinking about my dad or the design competition. The only thing on my mind is pleasure, something I know Austin can deliver.
Chapter Sixteen
Austin
The minute I step foot inside the football house, I know I’ve fucked up. Pizza boxes and empty beer cans litter the living room, covering every flat surface. There are a couple dozen guys, including Johnson and Smith, shouting at the TV where Bama is giving Ole Miss a beating they won’t soon forget. The music’s so fuckin’ loud, it’s a wonder the neighbors haven’t called campus police…yet.
That’s not even the worst of it. One of the freshman recruits is puking his guts out in a trash can, and there are a half-dozen jersey chasers in various stages of undress, which probably means there’s some kind of strip game going on. I scrub a hand over my face and try not to think about what’s going on in the rest of the house.
I’m probably better off not knowing.
My temper flares, a hot flush streaking up the back of my neck. I’m not sure who I’m more pissed at, Johnson or myself.
“What the fuck?” I shout, slamming the front door. God forbid someone roll past and get a look at this shit show. It’s a bye week and Coach asked me to show a few high school recruits around campus, which I agreed to do, despite being dead-ass tired and up to my eyeballs in…everything. Not like I could say no. I’m the team captain and it’s my duty to host potential talent.
Besides, it’s important to give these kids face time with the team and a taste of life on campus. It can make a real difference when it comes time to sign their letters of intent. Which is why I met them at eight and took them on a tour of the football facilities, the stadium, and the best parts of campus. We even went to lunch at the Diner, so they could check out the social scene downtown.
My mistake? Leaving the recruits with Johnson for a few hours while I met with my study group. Two fucking hours. He was supposed to take them for dinner at the dining hall and get ice cream, not get them wasted.
I should’ve skipped study group. The thing is, I’ve got a paper due for career management next week, and I needed the extra help. I didn’t do great on the midterm, and I need an A on my paper to offset it.
“Relax, we’re just watching the game,” Johnson says, lifting a beer can toward the TV. He’s slouched in a recliner, and Kendall’s sitting on his lap. Neither of them is wearing a shirt. “It’s not like we took them to the End Zone.”
The local strip club. Thank Christ for that. “They’re underage, asshole.” I point at the kid who just puked in the trash can. “Do you have any idea what happens if we get a UAD during a recruitment visit?”
Johnson gives me a blank stare. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s wasted or if he really doesn’t understand what a big fucking risk this is to the program. To our shot at a national title.
To our futures.
I cross the room in a few easy strides and shut off the TV and the music. “Party’s over.”
There’s a collective groan, and the puker heaves into the trash can
