CHAPTER 3 #2
“Man,” Garrett said, shaking his head, grin widening. “You miss one lift, and suddenly you’re the last to know your teammate’s dropping an OnlyFans.”
Jace cackled. Parker just smirked.
“Mind your business, Harper,” I snapped, grabbing the water bottle off the bench beside me.
Garrett lifted his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to my humiliation. “Hey, I am minding it. It’s not my fault that your business is so loud.”
He turned to Jace, eyes glinting. “You got copies of the pics, right? For…research purposes?”
Apparently everyone in this weight room was interested in science right now.
Assholes.
I chucked my water bottle at Garrett and whirled around to face Jace.
“They were not nudes, Thatcher. I was dressed. Kind of. And they were tastefully shot.”
“What do you mean ‘tastefully shot’?” Parker pressed, sounding way too intrigued. Which was exactly what Jace had been aiming for, the bastard.
“The fact that I know about this and you don’t is one of life’s great victories, Parkie-poo,” Jace commented.
He hesitated for half a beat—just long enough for me to almost start to hope that he might finally shut up.
But then his grin widened and my stomach dropped.
“You know…sometimes if I’m feeling cold at night, I think about the fact that you literally let Darla Pinswallow take pictures of you in a cowboy hat and briefs, and it warms me right up.”
Everyone went silent for exactly one second.
Then Parker and Garrett both lost it. Parker laughed so hard he almost dropped the barbell on his own head, and Garrett had to steady the rack while wheezing, “Not the cowboy hat!”
I rubbed a hand over my face, wondering if there was a polite way to fake my own death mid-set.
Regret settled deep in my soul…the kind that made you reevaluate every decision that had led here.
Like choosing this school.
Or becoming friends with men who clearly had the collective emotional maturity of a wet sponge.
Hell, even being born started to feel like the wrong move.
“Mind your business, boys,” I muttered, grabbing my towel and glaring at Jace.
Jace spread his hands like he was doing a PSA. “What? I’m just saying the world deserves to know the truth, Matthew. Transparency builds trust.”
“Transparency?” I snapped. “You’re the reason this happened!”
Parker blinked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Wait—what?”
Garrett straightened, eyebrows climbing. “Oh no. This is gonna be good.”
I pointed at Jace. “He vanished on some secret-society bullshit, wouldn’t answer his phone, and I thought he was dead in a ditch somewhere. I was losing my mind. So, when Darla showed up at the door with some cookies—”
Jace cut in, grinning. “The cookies were clever. I have to give it to Darla. Bring snacks, fix the app, collect nudes. Efficient.”
I ignored him. “I asked her to fix the app Jace installed on my phone so I could track his location in case he was in a basement somewhere, dying. Except apparently, she didn’t believe in free labor.”
“I could have been dying in a basement,” Jace said with a grin. “With six dudes in cloaks. That would have been very culty. You’d have loved it.”
“You traded a thirst trap for tech support,” Parker smirked.
Garrett bent over, laughing. “That’s the most tragic barter I’ve ever heard.”
“She said she worked in IT!” I shouted. “How was I supposed to know the I stood for inappropriately and the T for thirsty?”
Jace put a hand to his heart and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, obviously looking deranged while he did it. “And that’s how I know Matthew Adler loves me.”
“If you ever disappear again, I’m letting natural selection do its job,” I hissed.
Jace smirked, unbothered as ever. “Relax, Daddy Darwin.”
“That was actually a smart comeback, Thatcher,” said Garrett, lifting an eyebrow and looking impressed.
“Why do you sound so shocked, Harper?” Jace growled. I stifled a laugh because Jace was touchy sometimes.
“That was a compliment,” Garrett huffed. “I was saying it was borderline clever; what’s bad about that?” he continued, because clearly he wanted a barbell to be thrown at his pretty face.
Jace clutched his chest. “Borderline? Excuse me, Harper, I’m a fucking scholar. Words are my art form.”
Parker snorted. “Didn’t you once write an essay in your high school English class titled ‘Why I Shouldn’t Have to Write This Essay?’”
“Yeah,” Jace shot back, “and it still got a B-plus, so suck it, Hemingway.”
I couldn’t stop my laugh that time, and Jace whirled on me. “And you, you’d miss me too much if something happened, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Yeah, I’d miss you,” I said. “Every time I would walk past a dumpster, I’d think, ‘Didn’t that used to talk?’”
“You two need couples therapy,” commented Garrett.
Parker didn’t even look up from the weights. “They’d make the therapist cry in the first five minutes.”
“Yeah,” Jace said cheerfully, clapping me on the shoulder. “But at least we’d give the therapist something pretty to look at. Brighten their day and all that.”
I glared at him. “One more word.”
Jace’s grin turned…innocent. Which was always a bad sign. “Okay, one more. Perfect. Because I’ve got one.”
I groaned, already bracing myself. There was nothing quite as terrible as Jace’s jokes. And he seemed to not ever run out of them. “No. Absolutely not. That’s more than one word. Which is against the rules. Whatever’s about to come out of your mouth…keep it there.”
Jace’s grin only widened, eyes lighting up like he’d just been handed divine permission to ruin my life. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”
“I do know,” I shot back. “Because I know you. And every time you say ‘one more,’ I lose a year off my life expectancy.”
“What’s long,” he started, dragging out the words, “hard, and full of seamen?”
Parker looked horrified while Garrett just looked intrigued.
Weirdo.
“If we don’t look at him, maybe he won’t finish,” I whispered as I stared at the ceiling.
“Submarines,” Jace finished proudly.
Parker groaned, and I just stared at Jace, deadpan. “You’re proud of that one, aren’t you?”
“Like a father at graduation,” he said without hesitation.
At least he’s not talking about Darla anymore, I thought.
As if he’d read my mind, Jace clapped me on the shoulder. “C’mon, cowboy, let’s get started on your next set.”
“That’s not going to get old for you, is it?” I snarled.
Jace moved his eyebrows up and down obnoxiously. “Not a chance. You saddled up for this one, partner. I’m just making sure the rodeo never ends.”
“Once the hat comes out, there’s no putting it back in the box,” Garrett added helpfully.
Parker groaned for the millionth time today, shaking his head. “Please stop saying hat like it’s a metaphor.”
Jace winked. “Who said it wasn’t?”
Just then, the side door to the weight room creaked open. A couple of freshmen poked their heads in, caught sight of us, and immediately turned around.
“Probably heard the word seaman and ran,” Parker said.
“Smart,” I muttered.
“Speaking of stalkers,” Jace added casually, even though we hadn’t actually been talking about stalkers. “I noticed a certain car in the parking lot this morning.”
My stomach did something stupid, but I kept my eyes glued to the bar I was lifting like it was the most important thing I’d ever seen.
“Yeah, I saw,” I finally muttered, trying especially hard not to think about the sedan that was omnipresent at this point…
or the blonde-haired mystery girl that went along with it.
“Same car?” Garrett asked, stretching his shoulders.
“Same car,” Jace confirmed, leaning back against the wall like this was his morning coffee conversation. “She’s punctual, I’ll give her that. And I swear I saw a flash of Tigers gear when I glanced over.”
Parker didn’t even bother to hide his grin. “You’ve officially entered legacy status, Adler. You know you’ve made it when someone’s stalking you and coordinating it with team practice colors.”
Garrett chuckled. “I bet she’s got your calendar synced to hers.”
Jace nodded solemnly. “Probably has a color-coded spreadsheet labeled Matty’s Movements.”
I rolled my eyes, finally setting the bar down and grabbing my water bottle. “You’re all hilarious. Really.”
Parker shrugged. “We try. But seriously, it’s been, what, three months? What are you waiting for?”
Garrett blinked. “You haven’t gone up to her car yet?”
I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”
“Why not?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because Parker and Jace are stalkers already. I don’t need another one in my life.”
Jace raised an eyebrow, not looking perturbed at all that I’d called him a stalker.
Between the tracker he’d put in the weird friendship bracelet around my wrist and the fact that he’d done things that were illegal in every country to get his girl, Riley, there really was no arguing with me. He and Parker were, in fact, stalkers.
And I was still shocked about that fact every day.
“I really don’t think it’s that,” Jace mused. “I think it’s because you’re scared she’s going to be hotter than you expected, and then you would have to talk to her. And we all know how that would go.”
“Shut up,” I muttered. “I happen to be very good with the ladies.”
He grinned. “You didn’t say I was wrong about you being scared.”
I scoffed and lifted the bar again, unable to not think about that car.
At first, I thought it was nothing. We’ve all got fans. Some cling harder than others. But she never approached, never called out, never left notes or tried to follow me off campus. She just… watched.
And somehow, that was worse.
“You really don’t want to know?” Parker asked, watching me like he already knew the answer.
“No,” I said, too fast. Then, because Jace was already smirking, “Look, it’s not hurting anybody. She’s not showing up to the house, she’s not interfering with games, she’s just—there.”
Garrett tilted his head. “There, like…quiet and creepy? Or there, like…comforting in a weird way?”
I shot him a look. “Why would it be comforting?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. Some people like being admired.”
Jace leaned forward, grin spreading. “Yeah, like the guy who pretends he doesn’t notice, but definitely looks for the car every time he leaves practice.”
“I do not,” I said automatically.
Except I did.
And we all knew it.
Parker laughed softly. “You so do.”
I gritted my teeth as I tried not to drop the weights on my head. “You know what? Maybe I like consistency. Sue me.”
Garrett smirked. “Consistency. That’s what we’re calling it?”
Jace whistled. “Sounds like you’ve developed a little emotional attachment there, Matty-kins. Sounds almost like looove.”
“Don’t start,” I warned.
But they were already laughing.
And the thing was, I didn’t even know why I hadn’t done anything.
I could’ve gone to security. Or even just walked up and knocked on her window one day.
But I didn’t.
Because something about it—the stillness, the silence—made me feel weirdly…seen.
Not in the fame sense. Not the autograph, camera, NIL contract kind of seen.
Something else.
Like whoever sat in that car wasn’t looking at Matty Adler, tight end for the Tigers.
They were just…looking at me.
It was insane, and I knew it.
But every time I thought about walking up to that car, I froze.
Because I didn’t know what I wanted to find—someone obsessed, someone dangerous, or someone who somehow saw something in me that even I didn’t understand.
So instead, I did nothing.
It was easier to joke about it.
Easier to let Jace and the guys make their cracks and play along like it didn’t get under my skin so I didn’t ever have to admit that I wasn’t sure if I was more freaked out by the idea that she was there every day…or by the idea of what it would mean if she suddenly wasn’t.
“Earth to Matty-Daddy,” Jace said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I blinked, dragging myself back. “What did you just call me? And why do you keep putting Daddy in with my name?”
He grinned. “Sorry, I was just workshopping that, but I think it’s no good. I think we can all agree that the person in this group who has Daddy energy is me. And possibly Parker.”
“I have Daddy energy,” Garrett said.
We all snorted at that.
“Regardless, I wonder what you’ll do when she finally works up the nerve to get out of the car,” Jace continued as if Garrett hadn’t said anything and we hadn’t been talking about Daddies.
“Probably drop dead,” I muttered.
Garrett smirked. “Could be worse ways to go. At least you’d die adored.”
Parker rolled his eyes. “You three need professional help.”
“Maybe,” Jace said, leaning back with that smug, shit-eating grin. “But I’m still RSVPing for the wedding. Front row, open bar, tears of joy.”
“Yeah,” I said, standing up and slinging my towel over my shoulder, “you’ll get that invite the same day I send you my obituary.”
“Perfect,” Jace said brightly. “I’ll bring flowers to both. Maybe balloons, if I’m feeling festive.”
I groaned but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. That was Jace for you—turning every conversation into a sideshow.
And I welcomed it.
Because the truth?
That car haunted me.
Every practice. Every drive home.
Every night I told myself it didn’t mean anything.
I thought about it every damn day.
And every damn day, I pretended I didn’t.