Page 17 of Red Zone
Beck wanders over, smirking like always. “Look at you two bonding. Cute. Y’all gonna start wearing matching wristbands next?”
“Only if we can get ‘Daddy’s Favorite’ embroidered across the back,” I say.
Beck cackles. “You’re sick.”
“Accurate,” I reply, racking another plate. “Now shut up and spot me.”
Jaxon chuckles under his breath. “He’s got a point. You talk more than our offensive coordinator.”
“Jealousy is a disease,” Beck says, stepping behind me as I slide under the bar. “And I hope both of you catch it.”
I push through the set—heavy but clean. My shoulders burn. My head’s a little clearer. It’s the only time lately that I don’t feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.
We rotate through lifts, Beck going on and on about how his girlfriend is going out of town next weekend, and Jaxon occasionally chiming in with some low-key savage comment that hits harder because you never see it coming. You know it’s bad when he doesn’t have anything nice to say about the couple who has been together for the last almost ten years.
Jaxon finishes his last rep and wipes down the bench with a towel, nodding toward the door.
“You think Coach will let us breathe after Saturday if we win?”
“Doubt it,” I say. “Bet he’s already got extra Sunday film sessions scheduled.”
“Does he ever sleep?” Beck adds, dropping his dumbbells with a thud. “Like…is he a vampire? I feel like he just roams around campus looking for players to scare straight.”
“Better question,” I mutter. “Who’s planning the afterparty?”
Right on cue, Logan Brooks strolls in—aviators on inside, like he’s allergic to humility—clapping his hands like he owns the building.
“Speaking of parties,” Beck says, nodding toward him.
Logan grins. “Boys.”
“Logan,” I deadpan. “Come to bless us with tales of your newest conquest?”
“Nah, just here to remind you degenerates that our house is prepped and ready for Saturday night.” He slaps Beck on the back. “Assuming you don’t choke and blow the game, of course.”
Beck rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the faith.”
“Got enough drinks stocked to last normal people a year,” Logan goes on. “Even borrowed some LED lights from my Ward’s weird influencer cousin. Place looks like a damn nightclub now.”
Jaxon raises a brow. “Didn’t last weekend almost get shut down by campus security after I went to bed?”
“That,” Logan says, holding up a finger. “Was because someone called them and said it was too loud.”
“It was,” Beck defends.
I glance up from where I’m chalking my hands. “So, same time after the game?”
Logan grins. “We bring home the win, then I’ll bring the bad decisions.”
Beck smirks. “And the playlist that hasn’t changed since sophomore year.”
“Don’t fix what isn’t broken.” Logan shrugs, pulling off his hoodie. “Besides, it’s not like anyone comes for the music.”
I shake my head and finish my set, the weight grounding me more than it should.
Game. Party. Reset. Repeat.
It’s predictable. Familiar. Almost enough to distract me from the real problem.
