Page 253 of Out of Bounds

She fell silent again. It was weird, I’d never seen Cleo look so close to falling apart in one conversation. She gripped the door frame, staring right at me.

“And I’ve been thinking a lot about my future,” I continued. “And where I see myself.”

“Oh my god—please don’t quit football,” Cleo blurted out.

“What?” I stared at her.

“It’s your own decision, kid,” my coach told me gruffly.

“I’m not quitting football.”

She clutched her chest. “Oh, thank god. I was just waiting for the bad news—”

“No. It’s good news.” I hesitated. “For both of you anyway.”

The two of them shared a look together and glanced back at me, confused.

“I need a public announcement made,” I said, my voice firm. “But before we even get into the details, I have a singlestipulation and it needs to be met. I’ve kept my end of the bargain, I work hard for this team. And now I’m giving you what I want and I’m asking for one thing in return.”

Cleo frowned. “What?”

“What thing are you asking for, Cross?” Coach Lawson pressed.

“I need the stadium changed.”

106

Kassie

Objectively Romantic

Against my better judgment—and my primal urge to burrow in bed like a rodent—Zariah and I hitGianna’sfor lunch. I tried to argue against it, but she wouldn’t hear my incredibly valid points.

"You don’t have to worry about anything," she assured me. "Elijah’s there, he’s keeping us updated."

My sneakers shuffled against the pavement, not exactly eager for the journey.

We were the quietest people in the parking lot. Everybody else was getting their tailgating ready for Saturday’s game, less than twenty-four hours away. Good for them. Must’ve been nice to have something to look forward to around finals time.

"Is a booth okay?" Zariah pulled back from the hostess but I stared hard at the bar, where a line of people watched the TV with dark blue jerseys.

Numb, I nodded. Booth, table, place on the roof, the dumpster. I wasn’t hungry anyway. The whole restaurant was decked out just like campus too, all Romans colors. It took all my self-control to ignore the bobbleheads on the counters.

I rubbed my temples. "We couldn’t go off-campus? This place looks like a Marrs commercial."

"Kass, I know you haven’t been—"

"How’s RA training? When’s that start for real? January?"

"Don’t change the subject." She sighed.

I sank into my seat.

Our waitress, Sloane, took a quick slide over to our table, and with a bright smile, offered menus. "So good to see you. You’re welcome to anything."

Welcome to anything?

That didn’t sound like the usual spiel they gave. I frowned.

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