Page 5 of Fair Catch

After all, I saw first hand the way his secrets and betrayal affected Quinton, who has been nothing short of a brother to me. So while Q might’ve forgiven Oakley’s transgressions rather easily, there’s still a lot of work to be done before I’m willing to forgive and forget—and a small portion of me thinks I’ll remain reserved toward Oakley.

Apprehension Oakley is more than aware of, if the way his eyes warily shift back to me are any indication.

“I really do appreciate you doing this, Hayes,” he utters softly.

I offer a tight smile and slight nod, and with that, he disappears from view again.

He smirks, clearly the only one amused by the slight amount of friction present between his best friend and boyfriend, before correcting, “Webothappreciate you doing this, to be clear.”

A long sigh leaves me, and I rake my fingers through my hair. “I know, Q.”

I don’t really know what happened last year between one of Oakley’s old roommates and my soon-to-be one, only that they called it ‘a favor for a friend of a friend’ by asking me to take Kason in. And honestly, I don’t really care to know the sordid details, either. The drama of college romance is so far outside my realm of reality, it’s laughable.

All I want to get from college is a degree and then to get the fuck out.

So being dragged into someone else’s drama? It’s not exactly my idea of a good time.

Reading my expression the way only he can, Q’s voice takes on a more serious tone. “It’s gonna be fine, man. I promise. Kason’s a decent guy.” Then his demeanor lightens a bit, and he aims one of his shit-eating grins at me. “Just don’t go turning him into your new bestie now that I’m gone.”

I snort and shake my head. “As if you’d ever let that happen. Even from four states away.”

Another laugh leaves him, and honestly, the sound is one I’m glad to be hearing from him. Despite how I might feel about what happened between him and Oakley, it’s clear he’s the happiest he’s been in a long time.

“Does he know yet?” I ask, shifting the topic to something a little lighter, and a lot more exciting for the two of them.

“Louis is calling to tell him tonight when I take him to ride the bike. I got these for him too.” Q produces a pair of hunter green, black, and white striped socks; the team colors for the New York Knights. There’s a little #33—Oakley’s number—stitched in the sides and everything. “He’s gonna shit a brick when he finds out.”

He’s so disgustingly in love, I could actually vomit.

Grinning from ear to ear, he tucks them out of view again. “I really do need to get moving, but don’t be a stranger. Call me whenever.”

A twinge of sadness rushes through me, but I shove it down as best I can.

“Same goes to you, Q. Seriously. I know you’ll be busy, but…” I pause and shrug. “I dunno. It’s not gonna be the same here without you.”

His expression sobers instantly. “I know the feeling.”

“Talk soon then,” I tell him, going to end the call.

“Hey, H,” Quinton says just before I hit the end button. When I arch a brow, a clear signal for him to continue, he adds. “Promise me you’ll give him a chance. A real one.”

Rolling my eyes, I utter the wordfinebefore closing out of FaceTime and dropping back on my mattress, all the while hoping this doesn’t end up being a complete disaster.

Of course, no more than ten minutes later, those prayers go completely unanswered when I hear knocking from the apartment’s front door. Although,knockingis the nice way to put the repetitive, incessant pounding happening from down the hall.

“Jesus, I’ll be right there!” I shout, dragging myself from my bed and toward the sound that doesn’t even falter.

Annoyed, I yank the door open to reveal my new roommate, and Jesus Christ, I don’t remember him being as tall as he is. The guy’s got at least a couple inches on my six-one frame, nearly filling the doorframe in front of me.

He certainly wasn’t as disheveled as he is currently the last time I saw him; his reddish brown hair a wind-whipped mess and emerald eyes a mix of anxiety and panic.

Actually, come to think of it, this isn’t far off from the guy I met a couple months ago at the coffee shop. The version in front of me just looks the part this go ‘round.

Frowning, I move out of the way for him. “Why’d you knock? You have a key.”

Kason winces visibly as he steps past me with the precariously stacked boxes he’s holding. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it is. I think I accidentally packed it in one of the boxes?” He says it more as a question than a statement, and it only serves to make me more irritated than I was on the phone with Quinton.

“You think,” I repeat slowly.

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