6. Nolan
Nolan
C oach Peters clears his throat from where he’s standing at the head of the room.
Tonight is the eve of our first game, and we’re gathered in the facility, eating like kings.
The staff of chefs and nutritionists have outdone themselves tonight, as they do before every home game.
They made four different kinds of pasta, garlic bread slathered in butter, steak, grilled chicken, and a salad.
Tonight is all about carb and protein loading.
“I want to make a quick toast,” Coach Peters says, raising a glass.
Rather than address us, he’s looking at the boosters.
They’re the only people he ever cares about impressing.
Hudson is tucked in beside one now. I glance at one of my closest friends as he takes a drink, likely washing down the bullshit he’s obligated to endure.
Joseph Duken is our top contributing booster, and behind the scenes at events like these, the university caters to his every command.
Hudson doesn’t normally mind, he’s good at rubbing elbows and playing these games because his father, a retired NFL player, taught him.
“These boys have been working their asses off, preparing for this season,” Peters continues.
Boys.
He always refers to us as boys—a menial and undetected way to demean us.
Beside me, Palmer quietly scoffs, catching the dig as he reaches for another slice of garlic bread.
“We’re looking forward to punishing Cal State for daring to step on our field and claiming our first victory.
” There’s a pause, and then the coaching staff begins clapping.
The university keeps Peters from giving many interviews because he’s a terrible speaker and has been known to get lost on tangents and make public rants.
The team and boosters follow, cheering and clapping like he’s said something worthy of a standing ovation. In a sense, he has because as soon as the cheers stop, he returns to his seat at the head table and continues eating, allowing the rest of us to resume our conversations.
“Do you think we’ll be able to make it this year?
” Corey asks. “I mean, yes, we’re fucking yoked, and we have speed, and passing, but we lost some of our biggest defensive guys last year.
And we’re not the only ones gunning for the playoffs.
Notre Dame has Jones this year, and South Carolina is nothing to sneeze at.
And we can’t forget about Georgia Tech and their loaded defense.
They were like a goddamn bulldozer last year and they didn’t have a single senior, so you know they’re going to be out for blood this year. ”
Grey stops chewing, listening to Corey’s nerves getting the best of him.
Grey never talks about projections. He’s as cool and calm as fucking stone.
It works for him, and though his demeanor would probably leave guys pissing their pants if he were on defense, it’s just as effective on offense because there are times we all look at Grey and wonder if he’s going to go rogue and tackle one of the damn defenders.
I, on the other hand, am all about the hype.
The energy from the crowd is like a shot of adrenaline, feeding me and allowing me to lose myself in the game.
When I step onto the field, I become a different person.
“They’re going to be writing about us in the history books, remember?
” I ask, dishing more of the manicotti onto my plate.
I’m already full, but dinner is too damn good to quit.
Palmer nods, his focus on Corey. Palmer is always ready for a good time, the loudest in our group, and sometimes wildly inappropriate—he’s also the first to drop everything when someone has a problem.
“We’re going to be running circles around Cal State, tomorrow, and then we’re going to do it again next week, and the week after. One game at a time.”
Corey nods. Grey resumes eating.
“We have speed and passing,” I tell him, driving the reassurance home. “Hudson throws anything up, and he has the four of us to retrieve it.” I shake my head. “They don’t stand a chance.”
Palmer raises his fist to mine, eyes bright with a shared level of enthusiasm. “Hell yes.”
“I just hope Peters doesn’t rent us all out, like he did Hudson,” I say, taking a long drink of water. All of us turn to take note of our friend as he listens intently to whatever Joseph Duken is telling him like he gives an actual shit.
Hudson shifts his gaze to our prying stares and gives a slight shake of his head, warning us we don’t want to draw attention and be invited over, which means the conversation has taken a turn and Duken is likely trying to coach him, as boosters love to do.
Palmer’s phone rings, and for the fourth time, he silences it.
“Ghosting someone?” I ask.
“Is it that Sadie chick?” Corey asks.
Palmer nods. “The girl wants my nuts.”
“She’s been blowing up your phone for the past week,” Corey says.
“What can I say? I leave an impression.” Palmer grins, a predatory smirk that if I didn’t have three sisters, I’d probably laugh along with.
I know for a fact Palmer would never take advantage of a girl or pressure them into anything, generally, he’s the one bending over backward in whatever relationship he’s caught himself in.
Still, he tends to run his mouth like a fucking ass hat I’d warn away from my sisters.
Grey shakes his head. “Don’t get involved with the cleat chasers,” he warns.
“So you know who Sadie is…” I taunt.
He nods, finishing his bite of salad. “So do you. She’s the one with the burgundy hair who kept stopping at the dorms last year, waiting to be let in,” he says.
“Stalker Sadie?” I ask.
Grey nods.
“Dude,” I shake my head, turning my attention back to Palmer. “Bad idea. She has warning signs written all over her.”
“Exactly Palmer’s type,” Grey chides.
Corey attempts to muffle his laughter but fails.
Palmer smiles ruefully, adding a small mountain of ravioli to his plate. “It’s nothing serious, just a good time.”
“There’s a price,” Grey warns. “There’s always a price.”
“I swear you’re majoring in cynicism,” Palmer says. “She isn’t looking for a proposal or dirt to sell. As I said, she just wants to have a good time, and since that’s all I have time for, it works.”
Grey arches a brow but doesn’t say more before he spears another bite of his salad.
“There’s a reason we nicknamed her stalker Sadie,” I point out. “Just be careful. Even if she isn’t looking for anything now, four phone calls in twenty minutes is knocking on the door of being crazy.”
Grey scoffs as he nods.
Palmer takes a pull from his water and turns his attention to me. “I figured you’d be on the rebound for a meaningless relationship after hearing that Mila’s been dating.”
Corey pauses, his attention on me as I process the information.
I shake my head. “Good for her. She hasn’t dated anyone in months.”
Corey nods, looking relieved. Grey stabs a piece of pasta like it’s a trident, that and his flexed jaw are the only signs that he’s unhappy over the news.
He won’t admit his disappointment. Not even to us.
He didn’t even tell me that it pissed him off I was flirting with Mila.
None of us know exactly what his thoughts or feelings revolving around Mila are, only that last spring after I’d made an innuendo, Grey leveled me hard enough to give me a concussion.
Palmer nods subtly, as his gaze shifts from Grey to me, marking the same notes of tension in our friend. “What about your other new roommate? Is she as hot as the one we met?”
I shake my head. “Katie and I have an agreement; we don’t date each other’s friends.”
Palmer shakes his head. “What a waste of the ultimate opportunity.”
I shake my head, not allowing the idea to whittle into my thoughts.
Palmer nods in exaggerated motions. “You could date someone who would be right down the hall.”
“They’d be two floors up,” I remind him.
He shakes his head. “Perfect if she’s loud.” He stops, leaning forward. “Wait. There are two, right? Or is it three? You could have an entire harem.”
Corey shakes his head as he chuckles. “If women knew how you spoke about them, you’d never get laid again.”
“Women talk, too” Palmer insists. “They talk with their friends just as much as we do.”
Having three sisters, I know there’s some truth in what he’s saying.
My sisters have always talked about guys they were dating and crushes more than my friends did, the difference is my sisters obsessed over details like the guy offering his sweatshirt or walking on the outside of the sidewalk, remembering dates and anniversaries, rather than the sight of a girl’s cleavage or how deep she could take him in her mouth as we hear about in the locker room.
A booster stands, taking Coach Peter’s place at the front of the room, silencing us again. He goes into how proud he is to be an alumnus, and how he thinks of us as family while my thoughts shift to this morning, recalling the deal Hadley and I have made.
This summer, Lenny and I pulled some pranks on the freshmen, but Hudson gave me a disappointed father speech that hurt more than Grey leveling me on the field.
“What are you doing?” Corey asks, knocking his shoulder against mine as we head for the locker room an hour later. “You’ve been glued to your phone since dinner ended.”
“I’m looking up some ideas for a prank.”
Corey scoffs and closes his eyes as he shakes his head. “You missed a weight-lifting session and fell asleep watching tape this week. If you go after the freshmen again, Hudson’s going to kick your ass.”
Grey glances at us and then at Hudson as he rounds the corner.
“Whose ass am I kicking?” Hudson asks.
I scoff. “He’s still busy kissing Evelyn’s ass after the whole communication…” I look at Hudson. “What did you call it?”
“Fuck up,” he says.
I smirk. One of the reasons I respect Hudson so much as both my captain and friend is because he owns his mistakes. “That’s right. Fuck up.”