Page 120 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

We have a little over a week left before classes start, and I’m damn sure not going to miss a chance to have a few beers and let loose with my friends.

Hayes leans against the wall when I step out of the office. He perks up when he hears the door shut and nods behind me. Even with the closed door separating us, he keeps his voice low when he asks, “Everything good with Ferentz?”

Coach Ferentz is our offensive line coach. We both had a good relationship with him, even though he could be a hard-ass. I know he cares about me and this team, so I try to remind myself of it when he tries to knock sense into us.

I nod and mutter, “We were just bullshittin’.”

Hayes eyes me speculatively. I playfully shoved him in the arm, trying to get him to lighten his mood.

“C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here. I need to shower before we head out to Sugar Bottom.”

His face relaxes, and he joins me as we saunter down the hall past the athletic training rooms near the practice facilities. A group of girls stands in the hallway near one of the gyms.

I recognized a couple of them from the dance team last year. Judging by how they run through their routine while the others look on, I’m going to make a wild guess that they’re new to the team.

The one facing away from me is dressed in a blue shirt and a pair of teal shorts rolled at her waist. Her golden-blond hair is pulled into a ponytail. Every time it sways, I catch a glimpse of a name and number on the back of her shirt that I thought I’d never see again in Braysen colors.

Her hips move as she runs through the dance, and the way her body moves entrances me. Mandy, one of the girls with her, shouts to Hayes about tonight’s party. That’s when she stops and follows her line of sight over to me.

The way her smile lights up her face, accentuating her strikingly blue eyes, catches me off guard. A voice in my head told me she’d be beautiful even before she turned around, but it still didn’t prepare me for her stunning appearance.

Freckles dot the apples of her cheeks. There’s a rosy hue to them, I suspect from hours in the summer sun. My mind circles back to the name printed on her shirt, and I blurt out the words on the tip of my tongue before I can think better of it.

“Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but Watson doesn’t play for Braysen anymore. If you want a jersey to wear, though, I’ll give you one of mine.” I chuckle. “Might as well toss that one out while we’re at it.”

Her mouth falls open before she quickly snaps it shut. I study her as she drags her teeth over her plump lower lip, appearing to stifle her smirk, and I force my thoughts to stay out of the gutter.

She tilts her head to the side, boring her gaze into me. “I’ll be sure to let my brother know you think his jersey belongs in the trash.” She crosses her arms, popping her hip like an exclamation point to the end of her retort.

I have no doubt that while I may have a solid foot, if not more, on her, there’s no way in hell she’s the type to back down without a fight.

When I toss a wink at her, the fiery look on her face melts away despite keeping her eyes trained on us as we trudged past them.

“You walked right into that one.” Hayes chuckles next to me, but I don’t bother breaking eye contact with her.

Alec Watson played for Braysen last year. Rumors swirled over the summer that he debated returning for his sophomore year. When I reached out to him to ask if there was any truth to what I was hearing, he straight-up lied to my face and said he’d never leave Braysen or his teammates.

It wasn’t long after the headlines hit that Beckham would play for the Bulldogs next season that reports started coming out about Watson transferring to Keaton. So, while some might say I crossed the line and insulted her brother, she was the one who said his jersey belonged in the trash. Not that I don’t agree with her.

Braysen and Keaton were one of college football’s biggest rivalries. Keaton is located about thirty minutes south of Braysen, just over the South Carolina-Georgia border.

It was one thing to leave Braysen, but to sell out and play for Keaton had traitor written all over it. Word on the street is that Alec was bitter about Hayes and Zane, another one of our wide receivers, getting more playing time than he did.

I guess I didn’t have much room to talk, though. Toying with his little sister is another form of treachery, but Alec has it coming. He isn’t my friend or teammate anymore. What the hell do I care if he has a problem with me wanting his sister?

I drove to practice this morning after picking up a few overtime hours. I’ve been working for a local moving company. It kept me active, and the money was nice. It pained me not to take advantage of the extra hours with all the new students swarming back to campus.

Hayes and I head back home to get cleaned up before making our way to Sugar Bottom.

The sun was setting as people started showing up, and a cool breeze rolled in from the ocean. At this point, with the sun gone in the distant horizon, most of the locals ditched the beach, leaving it relatively empty for us.

Beckham and Hayes are unloading our coolers, and our roommate, Reed, follows, lugging our chairs. I unloaded the two bonfire barrels we brought with us, full of tree limbs and cardboard leftovers from when Beckham and Hayes moved back to campus.

I’m not paying much attention to what’s going on around me until the music starts, blaring one of my favorites by Luke Combs. I light one of the matches and toss it into the barrel, glancing up and locking eyes with the one person I hadn’t expected to see tonight.

“Well, I changed,” she says, holding her hand out to reveal her top. Her face is smooth, not showing a hint of emotion.

I smile, appeasing her by letting my eyes trail down her body. Only this time, I take my time. When she clears her throat, I realize maybe I’ve taken too long, but I can’t seem to find the will to care when I notice the glint in her eye and the subtle smile curving her lips.

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