I opened my text and saw it was from Victoria. I ignored it, just as I’d been doing with all her I want to talk to you texts, and pushed the phone back into my pocket. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I walked away from the guys.
“I’m out of here. If you two ever end up finding your balls, you can find me at the food court. I skimped on breakfast so I’m starving.” I turned around and kept walking backward, leveling a death stare at JP. “Don’t even come near me if you’re planning on asking more questions.”
“Do you wanna go for In-N-Out?” Chris yelled before I could make it out.
It was always hard to be careful with my diet and especially to say no to cheeseburgers, but I didn’t want to miss my class, so this time it was an easy choice. There was also the fact that I always had to be careful with money if I wanted to keep sending some back home. Not having to pay rent would help with that. “Can’t today. I have a class at two then a study session around five. You two go on without me.”
“We’ll see you at Jack’s place tonight?” JP yelled as I pushed open the door. Jack was our kicker.
“I’ll text you if I can make it.”
When I slammed the door shut and rounded the corner, I could still hear JP shouting after me.
I had taken only a few steps when I heard a loud thump echo in the quiet building.
A brunette caught my eye as she exited one of the meeting rooms at the other end of the hall. I only realized who it was when she whipped her hair back while holding the door open for someone. Coach walked out next, right on Zoe’s heels. Both of their shoulders were stiff, and neither of them looked particularly happy as they moved as far away from each other as they could get. Coach’s face turned toward her and I saw his lips move. Even though I was walking toward them, there was no way I could catch up before they made it to the lobby and exited the complex. I didn’t notice Zoe replying to Coach, but I noticed her posture stiffen even more. He turned around and disappeared into the team viewing room. Zoe picked up her pace, passed the trophy displays without lifting her gaze from the ground, and walked out…unaware that I had stopped moving and was standing completely still, full of questions.
Chapter Eight
Zoe
The weekend after Dylan and I made the bet passed in the blink of an eye. His team won their second game, which I heard about from Jared, and the whole campus was buzzing with the sweet taste of victory. Me? Not so much.
I had watched the first half of the game before heading out to meet up with Jared, and even though I didn’t know much about football—I had a hard time following where ball the was, who had the damn ball, who tackled who, who lost the ball, who caught the ball, etc.—even I could see that Dylan became a whole other person out on field. At least, with my limited football knowledge, I thought so. His movements were sharper. He seemed super focused, super attractive, super aggressive—in a hot way, not in a Hulk way. Did I mention super attractive? He was super strong, super fast—the guy could run—and again, just in case you weren’t following, super attractive. I was very appreciative of it as a viewer. It was probably the uniform and those damn shoulder pads that made him look like a sexy beast. Even the black face paint under his eyes that was supposed make him look ridiculous did the exact opposite. He looked like a warrior out on that field.
Obviously…obviously it would be a lie if I said it wasn’t hot as fuck to watch him play. When he made his first touchdown—a forty-five-yard run, according to the announcers—I was all caught up in the excitement and did a little jump in my seat with the biggest grin on my face. I laughed when all his teammates rushed over to him as he did a little dance with his hips and they bumped chests and fists—see! Friends do fist bumps all the time. Then I saw number five run toward him—Chris. He hooked an arm around his neck as they pushed each other around, and my heart warmed at the sight. When the camera panned to the face of their coach as he paced the sideline, I turned the TV off.
I could definitely understand how the rush of the game…oh, and the uniforms…and, ah, okay, specifically those shoulder pads…and maybe those tight, tight pants affected every girl on campus. I assumed it would be a hundred times worse if you were actually right there in the stadium. I wasn’t about to give in completely and become one of his shrieking fans, but I didn’t see a problem with just watching his games every now and then either…you know, because he and I were on track to become best friends, and best friends kept up with each other’s interests. In fact, as he was rushing out one day, he’d even asked for my phone number, and then later I’d gotten a Hello, roomie. In my book, that meant we really were becoming friends.