“Oh yeah?” He stands as well. “Like who? As your friend, I think it’s important that I know who the horndogs are.”

  “I’ll be sure to make a list for you.”

  I stand and start to back away, but he tugs on my hand and brings me into his chest. He wraps his large arms around me and gives me a brief hug before letting me go. “Have a good day, Indie.”

  I take a step back. “You too, Lincoln.”

  And then he takes off, giving a few people high fives on his way. I blink several times, trying to figure out what just happened. I am not a hug it out girl. In fact, it takes me a while to warm up to people. But Lincoln Castle just hugged me. And it was a good hug. Both arms. Snug into chest. Momentary happiness. Rare.

  And I allowed that. Sort of.

  Am I friends with Lincoln Castle now? I guess I could have worse friends. At least he’s a good one to have at my side.

  * * *

  “I’m going to give you a helpful hint,” Scarlett says, as I sit down with a steak salad and water. “Don’t buy Rusty lunch, he will max out your meal plan.”

  Rusty laughs and says, “I didn’t max it out.” He winks at me. “I did make a good dent though.” He pops open a bag of chips and offers them to those of us at the table.

  “If I wasn’t watching what I eat, I’d partake in those chips,” Scarlett says, “since I bought them. But we’re getting tested on the field soon and I want to be in the best shape possible.”

  At the start of every season, our endurance and agility are tested. It’s a rigorous Saturday that kicks us all in the ass, but it gives Coach Wilson a good idea how we’re doing physically, if we took the off-season seriously, and if we’ve earned the right to be a starter.

  My freshman year, I threw up from nerves right before we went out on the field and overexerted myself trying to impress. When we got to the sprints, I was gassed and almost didn’t make the time requirement. Last year, I paced myself and held the top spot with Scarlett. I’ve trained even harder this past summer and I feel prepared, but I’m right there with Scarlett, trying to fuel my body in the best way possible.

  “You girls will do great, I know it,” Rusty says, chips falling into his beard. “So, what’s with you and Castle? Seems like there’s something there.”

  Scarlett rests her chin on her hand and stares at me. “I was going to say the same thing.”

  I pop open my salad and skip the dressing, using my fork to pierce a chunk of steak and eating it. “We were set up on a date by our moms a few days before I left to come back. He didn’t know who I was, I knew exactly who he was. We played arcade games, our moms left us, he drove me home. Nothing happened. Nothing, so don’t even ask.”

  “Wait.” Scarlett holds up her hand. “Your moms set you up?”

  I nod. “Apparently, we grew up twenty minutes from each other but went to different schools. My mom does Lincoln’s mom’s hair. They thought it would be fun to secretly set us up.”

  “And was it fun?” Scarlett asks.

  I shrug. “It was okay. We were both pissed initially, because apparently both our moms have been trying to set us up with people all summer. And then it turned into a competitive thing. We just left it at: thanks for the ride, see you around.”

  “And why didn’t you tell me this the minute you came back to school?” Scarlett asks.

  Rusty’s eating his chips, looking back and forth between the two of us as if he’s watching his own movie.

  “Didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Like I said, nothing happened. Just a random night.”

  Rusty shakes his head and says, “I can’t believe he didn’t know who you were.”

  “Typical baseball player at Brentwood. Stuck in their own world,” Scarlett says.

  “Most of them are pretty good guys,” Rusty says. “I’m surprised about Lincoln, as he’s a really good guy. I would have thought he knew everyone.”

  Well, not everyone.

  “It’s fine. I really don’t care, because I’m not interested in him in other than as partners in student teaching.”

  “You’re not interested in Lincoln Castle?” Rusty asks, his eyes wide. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that sentence come out of a girl’s mouth. Hell, my good friend Amber on the basketball team, who’s a lesbian, said she would throw away her rainbow flag for a passionate night with the man.”

  “Eh,” I say. “Not my type.”

  “Oh, okay,” Scarlett scoffs and laughs.

  “He’s not. I like . . . bigger guys. Meat on their bones.” I smile. “Like Rusty.”

  He pats his muscular stomach with pride. “If you like this physique, I have an identical man I can match you up with. Mind you, he’s a little skinnier, more in shape, doesn’t have the burly beard, and doesn’t have the bear hug quite down yet, but he’s awesome. I think you two would hit it off.”

  “Rusty, I’m not dating this year.”

  “Who says you have to date?” He leans forward and whispers, “Just let him take you out to dinner and get a free meal out of it.”

  I chuckle. “Wouldn’t that be leading him on?”

  “The guy needs some more friends and you’re a sweet girl. I know if anything, he’d value your friendship. Give him a shot.”

  I sigh and lean into my booth. “What’s his name?”

  “Deacon. He just moved in with me and the boys.”

  “Yeah, and where’s that?”

  Rusty smiles brightly. “Hartley and Lincoln’s house, of course.”

  Of course . . .

  Chapter Five

  LINCOLN

  Hartley holds up his soda and says, “To our junior year.”

  “To our junior year,” the boys all say together and then clink cans.

  Every Wednesday, no matter what we’re doing, we always have a “family dinner.” Hartley got the idea last year when one Wednesday night we were all in the kitchen trying to figure out what to eat and he said, “Let’s make a family meal together.” And we did.

  Ever since, we sit at our dining room table, which doubles as a drinking table when we throw a party, and we have a dinner together to decompress.

  We lost two seniors from the football team last year, so this year, we have Hartley, me, my boy Asher, Hutton Marshal, a wide receiver on the football team, and Rusty and his brother, Deacon, who just made the football team as a linebacker.

  It’s a good group of guys with zero drama, which is what we prefer.

  “Dig in, boys,” Hartley says, passing the bowl of homemade sweet potato fries.

  Tonight we made burgers on the grill with all the fixings, homemade fries, a salad, and Hutton cut up some watermelon, because he’s a master at it.

  We go in a line, handing things off, loading our burgers, and filling our plates until there’s barely anything left in the serving dishes.

  I’m the first to dig in, going straight to the salad, because I’m the person who needs to eat their greens first to get those out of the way.

  “First things first,” Hartley announces from the head of the table. “Let’s talk about our valleys for the day.”

  Just like Hartley’s family did when he was growing up, he makes us talk about our peaks and valleys of the day, or week for that matter. At first, we grumbled about it, but now I find myself thinking throughout the week what a good peak and valley would be to bring to the table.

  “Asher, you’re up,” Hartley says.

  “Valley, uh . . . I asked a girl out and she turned me down.”

  “What?” I ask, confused. “First of all, you asked someone out?” Asher is painfully shy and to hear he asked someone out is shocking. “Secondly, who was it?”

  “Well, technically, I asked her out for Barry on the lacrosse team.”

  “Why isn’t Barry asking his own girls out, and why is he asking the shyest guy in the athletic department to do his dirty work?”

  “We were doing a dead lift challenge, he maxed out more than me, and we made a bet. So I had to ask Charlize out for him. Backfired badly.” Asher shrugs then picks up his burger and takes a huge bite.

  Hutton’s up next. “Deacon caught me jacking off in the shower.” The boys all groan and Deacon buries his head in his hands. “Which reminds me, we need to add to the rules. Knock with bathrooms too.”

  Deacon goes next. “I saw Hutton’s O face. Not sure I’ll ever recover.”

  We all laugh and Rusty puts his hand on his identical twin brother’s shoulder. “I caught Lincoln last year. Dude jerks it hard.”

  “Will you shut the fuck up with that? I told you I was almost at completion, okay? Christ.”

  Hartley looks around the table. “Am I the only one who knocks in this house?”

  Asher raises his finger but says nothing as he bites his burger.

  Rusty chimes in and says, “I split my pants yesterday in class when I sat in my seat. I sat through the whole class with a rip in my pants, trying to figure out how I could leave class undetected.”

  The table roars with laughter.

  “What did you do?” Hutton asks, before plopping a fry in his mouth.

  “Walked out of there with a split in my pants. There was no other option. I did consider buying the sweater off the girl next to me but realized it would barely cover one of my ass cheeks. It’s all those squats; my thighs are gigantic. Papa needs new pants.”

  Once I’m done laughing, I say, “My valley would be . . .” I think about it, unable to come up with anything. I’ve had a pretty good few days. “Uh—”

  “Shocking. Lincoln had a good week. Again,” Hutton says in a teasing tone.

  “Oh, I know. I asked for skim milk in my coffee and they gave me whole.”

  The table goes silent and then Rusty starts to slow clap. “Wow, you brave soul. How are you able to hold your head up right now?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I laugh, while Hartley takes the lead.

  “Valley for me would be listening to Lincoln’s valley. I am positively devastated.”

  “Whatever,” I say, while the guys all break out in laughter again.

  “Peaks. Asher, go.”

  “PR’d on the bench this week. Coach Disik was impressed.”

  It’s a hard thing to impress our coach, so that’s a major peak. We all offer congratulations.

  Hutton didn’t drop one ball at practice.

  Deacon is taking some girl out this week.

  Rusty found an egg roll at a secret kiosk near the events center that made him weep real man tears with how good it was.

  When it comes to me, I say, “I have Thursdays and Fridays off classes, which means I get to sleep in tomorrow.”

  Hartley says, “Make room in your bed for snuggles.”

  “You know I got you, boo.”

  “So, who’s the girl?” Hutton asks Deacon.

  “Not sure. Rusty’s setting me up.”

  All eyes turn to Rusty, who holds his hands in the air as if to block all incoming questions. “Don’t even ask. I don’t want to scare her away. But if you are wondering, yes, I’m playing matchmaker and I’ve got to say, it gives me life. Not as much life as the egg roll, but it gives me life.”

  “Why aren’t you hooking us all up?” Hutton asks. “I feel like taking part in a relationship this year.”

  “Are your whoring days over?” Hartley asks.

  “Possibly, depends on the girl. Not all of us can be celibate like you, Dashel,” Hutton says to Hartley.

  “Not celibate, just picky.”

  Out of all the guys that have been in the house, Hartley and Asher are probably tied when it comes to who’s brought the least girls home.

  I’m in the middle. Hutton has stuck his dick in more women than he can probably remember.

  “What about you?” Deacon asks me. “Plan on bringing any girls home, Linc?” My mind immediately goes to Indie, and I fucking hate that it does.

  I texted her the other night like I said I would and we planned out the assignment, but that was it. She was pretty cold, but I won’t hold it against her. I see the determination in her eyes; she doesn’t want to be distracted. She wants to train and do her schoolwork. There doesn’t seem to be very much else on her mind, which is fine with me because it’s not like I’m looking for anything else, either.

  This could be my last year at Brentwood, which means I need to double down on my time in the cages working on my spin, in the weight room increasing my strength, and out on the field, building endurance.

  “Nah,” I answer, popping a fry in my mouth. “I’m probably going the Hartley and Asher route this year.”

  “Damn,” Hutton says. “Look at us being mature assholes.”

  “You stuck an uncooked sweet potato fry in your nose in the kitchen,” Hartley points out. “I wouldn’t call yourself mature just yet.”

  Hutton nods toward Rusty. “At least I didn’t split my pants in class.”

  “Hey,” Rusty says. “It’s not like I let out a giant fart and the impact ripped my pants. My man thighs were too much for the fabric.”

  I chuckle to myself and watch my boys go back and forth, ribbing each other, genuinely enjoying family dinner night. I’m going to miss these moments when I move on, so I cherish them now.

  * * *

  “Pepps, hold up,” I say hobbling up to Asher, using his nickname. I grip his shoulder and steady myself. “Carry me, man.”

  “Carry yourself,” he says, shrugging out of my grasp. “I can barely hold up my own body.”

  We walk out of the stadium to the parking lot. We drove together, because saving the earth is a pretty cool thing to do, and if we can carpool from the house, we will.

  “What was with the weighted box jumps and burpee combo today?” I ask, as we both fall into his car and shut the doors. Asher doesn’t start the engine right away, but just stares back at the stadium.

  “I don’t know, but that was brutal.”

  “Did you see him smirking after we did twenty box jumps and he yelled fifty burpees?”

  “Everyone saw it,” Asher says, starting his car. “Fine, make us do shit we hate, but don’t be a dick and smirk about it.” He pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving toward our house, which is no more than ten minutes from campus, six minutes if we don’t hit lights. “I knew it was going to be hard here, but I thought once I got to my junior year, I’d be used to it.” He shakes his head. “It’s not. I can’t wait to get drafted and move on.”

  Asher has never been a fan of the college life. He doesn’t like parties, he doesn’t like all the attention he gets on campus, and he certainly doesn’t like it when Hutton walks drunkenly into Asher’s room with a girl, mistaking the door on the left for the door on the right.

  As one of the best centerfielders I’ve ever seen, he’s ready to move to the majors and live his own life.

  “You know the attention is only going to be magnified when you’re drafted and make it to the majors?”

  “Yeah, but at least I’ll have my own place.”

  “It’s not that bad, man.”

  He sighs. “It’s not. But being at Brentwood feels like being in a fishbowl, you know? Everyone is always watching everything you’re doing on campus. I’m over it. Plus, fuck, I hate school.” He laughs. “I’m good at it, but I’m over it.”

  “I feel you there. I know it’s important to get an education but . . .”

  “Yup.”

  We pull into our circular driveway and park. I grab my bags and we both head into the house where I set my shit down in the entry, and then walk toward the kitchen where I halt immediately. Asher runs into my back.

  “Indie,” I say, surprised to see her at my house. “What are you doing here?”

  She’s sitting on the kitchen island wearing a pair of black Adidas leggings and a sweater that’s hanging off her shoulder, showing a hot pink sports bra strap. Her hair is in its classic high ponytail, and she doesn’t have an ounce of makeup on.

  She nods toward the fridge where Rusty pops his head up. “Rusty claimed he needed help with understanding elementary school student behaviors.”

  “I do.”

  “Uh-huh.” Indie rolls her eyes and hops off the counter. Rusty tosses her a water and she catches it with ease. “That’s why you keep talking about your brother, telling me he’s going to be home any second.”

  “Can’t a guy talk about his brother and not get chastised about it?” Rusty asks.

  “I told you, I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

  “And I told you, free dinner.” Rusty gives her a pointed look.

  Indie turns back to me, gives me a quick once-over and says, “Why are you standing like that, all bow-legged, like you’re not sure if you should sit or stand?”

  Trying to clear my head of the whole Deacon and Indie thing—was that who Deacon was talking about last night?—I say, “Rough practice. Burpees and weighted box jumps.”

  “Oof.” She squints and, in that moment, I realize something significant: I like that she can empathize with me. I like that she knows the pain I’m talking about. “That sounds like a nightmare. How many rounds?”

  “Five,” I answer, while Asher quickly grabs a protein shake from the fridge and retreats to his bedroom.

  “Five rounds? Damn, I think I’m having sympathy pains for you.”

  I smile. “Look at you being kind to me.”

  “You said you wanted to be friends.” She winks. “I’m nice to my friends, right, Rusty?”

  “The best.” He rubs his chin and says, “You know, while we wait for Deacon, maybe we should go—” His phone rings, and he checks the screen, smiling like a doof. “It’s Chrissy. Do you mind if I take this?”

  “Go ahead,” Indie says.

  Once Rusty is upstairs, I work my way around the kitchen and say, “So, a date huh? Thought you were against those.”

  “I am, but I’m assuming you know Rusty. He doesn’t take no for an answer. Figured I’d meet Deacon, give him a pat on the shoulder, and tell him I’m not interested in starting anything.”