Page 16 of The Goal

My loud snort draws the attention of the trio of students at the neighboring table. Another text from Sheena pops up.

Her: But she’s hotter than EVERYONE. So I guess I can’t be mad? Why are you asking about her?

Me: Ran into her last night. She seemed cool.

Her: I wouldn’t know. Got 2 classes w/ her but she’s not too chatty. Super smart, though. Rumor is she only hooks up w/ jocks.

I sip my coffee as I ponder that. Guess it makes sense, seeing as she hooked up with me last night. My phone buzzes with another message from Sheena.

Her: You crushing on her?

Considering I had my tongue, mouth, fingers, and dick all over her last night, I think I might be past crushing. But I just type,Maybe.

Her: You so are!!! Tell me everything!!!

Me: Nothing to tell. See you in Econ tmrw?

Her: Yup.

Me: K. Thx, babe.

Her: <3

I scroll through my contact list in search of anyone else who might know Sabrina, but only one name pops out at me. Hell, it’s probably the person I should’ve spoken to first.

I gulp down the rest of my coffee, then head for the door. I shoot off a quick text, but there’s no insta-response, so instead of waiting I send another message, this time to Ollie Jankowitz, the roommate of the guy I’m trying to track down.

Me: You with Beau?

Him: Negative.

Me: Know where he’s at?

Him: Gym.

Well, that was easy.

I leave my truck in the student lot and decide to make the trek on foot, since the football stadium is only a short walk from the coffeehouse. My Briar hockey ID doesn’t give me access to the training facility, but luckily I reach the door at the same time as a sophomore lineman, who lets me in.

I find Beau Maxwell in the weight room, working on his chest and arms. Beau is Briar’s beloved quarterback, and, as far as I know, the last guy who’d held Sabrina’s interest for any significant period of time.

He’s a friend of mine, closer to Dean than any of us, but we’re still buddies and I’d rather he hear that I’m chasing after Sabrina from me than the gossip mill. Athletes spend as much time as anyone talking about hookups, girlfriends, and future lays.

“Maxwell,” I call as I cross the room, which smells like sweat and industrial cleaning supplies. “Got a minute?”

Beau doesn’t look away from the mirror. “Sure. I’m gonna do bench presses in a sec. You can spot me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I take a seat on the bench next to him and mentally count his reps as he does them. At ten, he drops the fifty-pound kettle bell and turns to me.

“I’m doing light weights, double reps,” he explains, feeling the need to justify the two-fifty weight on the barbell.

“Should you even be lifting anything at all?” I don’t know much about the quarterback position, but it seems to me that any extra muscle could affect his throwing arm.

“Light weights only,” he reiterates.

As he lies back and reaches above him, I move to the head of the bench. With these weights, I doubt he could hurt himself, so the spotter position is sort of unnecessary. But it gives me something to do while we talk.

“Heard you hooked up with Sabrina James this fall,” I start awkwardly. “You still holding a torch for her?”

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