FUCK.
This is bad. Real bad. I take a deep breath before looking up to meet Coop’s stare. “What do you know about this?”
Parker leaps out of his seat and snatches the paper from me. His eyes go wide when he sees the headline. “Oh shit.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Coop shrugs, but his face remains annoyingly blank. He’s my best friend, and I don’t have the first clue what he’s thinking. He could be pissed. Could be pleased. Fuck if I know. “Handle your business.”
Hell, maybe he’s disappointed. God knows I deserve it for putting my cock before the team. I’ve let them down. I should be sorry, but I can’t bring myself to regret even one moment with Kennedy. She’s been a bright spot in a season wrought with challenging odds, tremendous pressure, and enough speculation to bring me to my damn knees.
“You and Carter, huh?” Parker asks, tossing the paper on the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “Not quite the headline I was expecting.”
I rake a hand through my hair, but it does little to relieve the frustration pulsing through my skull. I owe him an explanation. Hell, I owe the whole team an explanation, but I can start here, with my friend and roommate. I force myself to look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t straight with you when you mentioned asking Carter out. Nothing was going on then, but…I guess I was hoping.” No need to mention we’re not actually dating.
Parker stares at me for what feels like an eternity and it takes all my self-control not to fidget, but I’ve got years of practice being stared down by savage mofos, so I wait him out.
Finally, he raises his fist and I knock it. “It’s all good. I’m talking to a freaky little gymnast.”
Thank Christ. I need my roommates to have my back, because I’ve definitely got some explaining to do, especially if the larger news outlets pick up the story. Which they will.
Kennedy and I are both media darlings, albeit for different reasons. Dammit. The last thing I need is a bunch of reporters speculating about my personal life. It’s exactly what I didn’t want, what Coach didn’t want. Hell, what Kennedy didn’t want.
Kennedy.
She’s going to be pissed. I need to talk to her. She should hear about this from me, not on social media. I pull out my phone and check the time. It’s late and we’ve got an early flight tomorrow for the Indy game. Odds are, she’s home.
“Look, I need to talk to Carter. You’re sure we’re straight?”
“Go take care of your girl,” Parker says, clapping me on the shoulder. “And good luck. She’s not gonna be happy about the article.”
Understatement of the century. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cut off my nuts.
Kennedy
“What are you doing here?” Not my best greeting, but I’m pretty sure Austin and I don’t have plans, and Becca will be home any minute. I expect him to laugh or give me some witty retort, but his mouth remains set in a firm line.
“I take it you haven’t seen the Collegian?” he asks, holding up a folded newspaper.
“Who has time?” Because, let’s be honest, if I’ve got spare time, I’m totally reading smutty romance, not snarky op-eds and sports stats. “What’s up? Another puff piece on the novelty of a female kicker?”
You’d think they’d be over it by now, but not so much.
“Can I come in? It’s probably better to discuss this in private.” His tone is unusually serious and it’s kind of starting to freak me out. Just what exactly is in that paper? I’ve been playing well and haven’t missed a field goal since week five. The critics should be eating their hats and singing my praises.
I sigh and step back, swinging the door wide so he can slip past. His bicep brushes my shoulder, and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s fresh, spicy, and speaks directly to my ovaries.
So not the time.
“So? What is it?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Not if Austin’s here.
His shoulders tense almost imperceptibly as he unfolds the paper and hands it to me. “Don’t freak out.”
I read the headline. Waverly’s Newest Couple? Then I read it again, forcing myself to take in the picture below.
Austin. Me. Kissing.
Fuckity-fuck-fuck.
My stomach bottoms out and my hands begin to shake, the paper rattling noisily. This can’t be happening. “Don’t. Freak. Out?”
The words sound shrill and borderline hysterical to my own ears. I can only imagine how I sound to Austin.
He steps forward like he’s going to wrap me in his arms. I take a step back. That’s what got us into this mess in the first place. I skim the article and the ridiculous speculation that Austin and I are Waverly’s newest power couple. Like that’s a real thing. This is a college campus, for fuck’s sake, not Hollywood.
The last line of the article catches my eye and I read it aloud, infusing my words with all the snark the author intended. “Sorry, ladies. Looks like Waverly’s sexy QB is off the market.” I pause and roll my eyes for good measure. “For now.”
Austin says nothing.
“This is bullshit. Who even writes this kind of trash?” I throw the paper on the couch and rub my temples. “We were so careful.”
“Apparently not.” I swear to God there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Never said it was.” True, but I can see the corner of his mouth twitching. “Look, this isn’t great press for me either, but I wanted you to hear about it from me. I didn’t know anything
