Zach:Just wanted to say I love you. You’re everything to me, Honeycomb.
A genuine smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. The warmth in my chest pushes away all the ugliness from those anonymous messages, replacing it with something bright and real.
“There,” I say, looking at both of them. “No more distractions. Now can we please get back to the assignment before I end up not writing a thing again?”
“Um,” Chris shifts forward. “Actually, do you remember how the ice rink last week made things a little easier?”
“Mhm,” I answer, setting my phone down and looking between my two friends.
“I’ve got a game on Thursday, and I thought you guys could come? It might be a good way to get away from all the stress for a while.”
Jenni doesn’t answer immediately, so Chris continues. “It’s one of our biggest rivals, Rome U, so It should be a good game.”
“I’d love to,” I answer. “Would it be okay if I brought Zach?”
“Zach?” Jenni says.
I shrug. “Yeah, he’s not leaving to play Michigan until Friday, so he’d be here.”
“Of course. We’d love to have some football royalty supporting us,” Chris says, his eyes lingering on me for a moment.
Jenni perks up beside me. “I’m there! I've never been to a hockey game before.”
I can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. A new place where no one cares I’m dating the quarterback. No phone signal to get me riled at times I shouldn’t, and Zach right by my side.
Nothing sounds more perfect and is exactly what I need right now.
“Then it’s a date,” I say, hoping Zach will agree to it.
Zach:When you’re done studying, do you want to come over? We need to finish what we started.
The whistle blows as I jog onto the practice field, hoping my compression pants don’t let me down since I’m still half-hard over what happened in Honey’s dorm room an hour ago. Not to mention the taste of her is still on my lips… or the way she came apart on her desk.
Fuck.
I need to focus on football instead of the memory of her thighs shaking around my face. One day back from Carolina, and all I wanted was to bury myself between her legs and show her exactly how much I missed her.
“Evans!” Coach Summers barks from the sideline. “Get your ass over here before you start warming up.”
I change direction, jogging toward him while the rest of the team continues their stretches. Reese catches my eye and raises a brow, but I just shrug. I have no idea what I’ve done, but if it has anything to do with the boner that won’t go down, I’m in trouble.
“Yes, sir?”
Coach crosses his arms, but there’s something different about his expression. He’s not angry… he’s almost amused. “So,” he starts, drawing out the word. “Want to explain to me what the hell you did to Jacob Miller at that dinner?”
My stomach drops. “Sir?”
“Because the man called me yesterday singing your praises like you walked on water and turned it into Gatorade.” Coach’s mouth twitches. “Said you were ‘mature beyond your years’ and had ‘the kind of football IQ that can’t be taught.”
Relief floods through me so fast I nearly stumble on my cleats. “He said that?”
“More than that. He’s putting in calls to people he knows. Scouts, coordinators, the works.” Coach steps closer, his voice dropping. “This is big, Evans. Really big. Miller doesn’t throw his weight around for just anyone.”
“I… wow. I don’t know what to say, Coach.”
“Don’t say anything. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand lands on my shoulder and he gives it a good squeeze. “Miller also mentioned Drew McCallister was there?”
“Yes, sir. They gave me a lot of advice about the draft process.”