She shakes her head. “This was the first football game I’ve ever watched. I have no idea”
I pull out my phone and scroll down to Nolan’s name, trying to ignore and rationalize how nervous and giddy I feel about texting him.
Me: Where should we meet you?
Minutes pass. The crowd begins to dwindle. Hannah scrolls through social media, and checks in with Katie, then messages another friend before she looks at me with impatient eyes. “Anything?”
I’m about to shake my head when my phone vibrates.
Nolan: At the house.
Me: What house?
Nolan: Our house. It’s a small group.
“What did he say?” Hannah asks.
“That he’s inviting them over to the house.”
“Our house?” She sounds as alarmed as she looks.
“This is a terrible idea,” I say in agreement.
“Or … it could be okay.”
I shake my head, knowing it’s not. “That’s your unformed cortex speaking.”
Hannah smirks. “Maybe or maybe this will be fun. Think about it, Hadley. We spent all of last year studying and working our asses off. We deserve to have fun. Besides, we only get to be young and stupid once. We might as well make it count.”
Me: We’ll meet you there.
Chapter10
Nolan
“Whoop!” Lenny yells, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we stand in the locker room, finished with press and interviews. “First win. First party. Tonight is going to be epic.”
His energy promises chaos. “Remember, we’re keeping it small. Only one keg. We’re in a neighborhood. If the cops get called, Peters will have my nuts. If you want to go out after, there are going to be a hundred parties near campus.”
Lenny pats my chest. “Got it.”
“And if you see Ethan, make sure he’s coming.”
“Why are we inviting the kicker?”
“He fell when we pulled the shaving cream prank this summer and sprained his wrist. This will be our condolences.”
“If there’s no evidence, it didn’t happen.” He grins conspiratorially before walking away. We went to great lengths to ensure no one could trace us back to the incident so we wouldn’t face expulsion or worse—getting kicked off of the team. Regardless, Hudson knew it was us, most of them did.
I take a seat, waiting to receive the green light from the coaching staff that I can go. Occasionally, a reporter will ask for a final interview or picture from us.
Krueger comes into the locker room, still wearing slacks and a Camden-blue polo. He stops in front of me, iPad and clipboard tucked under one arm. I search his expression for duress, wondering if he’s met with Peters yet and had his ass chewed for the rogue play we ran.
He gives a crooked smile. “You did well tonight. By the second half, every one of their formations was considering you.” He lets that soak in. “Get out of here. Celebrate. And be ready to hit the field hard on Monday.”
I nod and climb to my feet, and go looking for my friends. I find Corey and Palmer in the hall, discussing plans for the night.
“You guys are coming over, right?” I ask.