“See?” Reese says from across the lockers, shoving his stuff in a duffel bag. “You guys think he’s whipped. I just think he’s in love. There’s a difference.”
Dax lets out a dramatic sigh. “Spare me. Last time I got laid, TikTok still thought I was funny, and my mom still called me handsome without sounding worried.”
“True, and let’s not forget that Mason’s still using his hand like it's prom night,” Sebi adds.
“Speak for yourself,” Mason mutters, not even bothering to deny it. We all know he’s too focused on football to even think about the appropriate way to talk to women.
“Face it, boys,” Dax shoves his head through his shirt, then looks between our teammates. “While we’re out here fighting for leftovers, Evans bagged the best girl on campus before any of us figured out how to shave. Man’s been living the dream since high school.”
I smirk because they’re not wrong. Not about that.
Sebi leans forward, his interest piqued. “She’s been at your place a lot lately, huh? She moving in, or just marking her territory after clocking the shrine of footballs on your porch?”
“Neither, but I’m working on it,” I admit, tying my shoes. “You know Honey. Stubborn as hell. Doesn’t want to be ‘just the quarterback’s girlfriend’ even though she’s been my endgame since day one.”
That earns a round of groans.
“God, you're disgusting,” Dax says, throwing a towel at my head. “We get it. You're in love. She’s your moon, your stars, your damn chicken parm. Spare us.”
I catch the towel midair and fling it back. “Keep talking. One day you’ll meet a girl who makes you delete every contact in your phone without hesitation, and I’ll be there with a bottle of champagne and a playlist called ‘RIP, Hoe Phase.’”
“Bold of you to assume he has contacts worth deleting,” Sebi deadpans. “His phone is just DoorDash, fantasy football, and his mom. Even she doesn’t text him back.”
Dax grins, but before I can fire something back, his eyes flick with a spark of mischief.
“What about Honey’s friend, though? Jenni, right? That blonde from the party. I’d be honored to add her to the coveted list.”
My jaw ticks. “Stay far away from her.”
Dax holds his hands up. “Damn. Okay. You still got that voodoo doll, or did you finally toss it?”
“She’s bad news,” I insist. “Shows up at my house uninvited, flirts and gives me her number. Then she acts like we’re strangers when Honey’s around. Sketchy doesn’t even cover it.”
“Maybe,” Dax shrugs, “ormaybeshe didn’t know you and Honey were together-togetherand bailed the second she realized. Could’ve been trying to save face.”
Reese snorts. “That’s a reach. Everyone on campus knows Zach’s taken. He’s made that pretty damn clear.”
“Has he?” Sebi raises a brow. “Our boy’s out here throwing heart hands into the stadium, but when’s the last time he actually said her name?”
“I don’t have to. Everyone knows it’s Honey,” I say flatly.
“The OGs, sure, but the new girls?” Sebi points out. “The freshmen. The ones showing up in jerseys two sizes too small? They don’t know shit, and I bet Honey’s not exactly out here announcing your relationship either.”
“I’m with Sebi on this one,” Dax says, casually tossing a water bottle in the air before catching it better than any pass from me. “Not everyone’s out here playing chess, Evans. Some people are just… dumb. Girl probably made a stupid mistake and regrets it wholeheartedly.”
“Evans!” Coach's voice booms from the doorway.
The room goes still, and the energy shifts.
“My office. Now.”
I nod, my stomach tightening. I look around, but no one wants to make eye contact because they know I must’ve really fucked something up if Coach wants to see me after a win.
“Uh oh,” Sebi whispers. “Someone's in trouble.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, zipping my bag. “It's probably about the game film.”
“Or maybe they're giving you another award,” Reese suggests. “That throw in the second quarter was pretty spectacular.”