Page 40 of Escape Velocity
“Well, he invitedyou. He wroteyournumber on his big, strong, sweatymanhands. He wants to seeyouthere.”
Jenna isn’t exactly wrong. But he can’t entertain the thought that Callum wants anything to do with Mason other than him singing his praises in the paper.
If Mason was his normal, physics loving self, would Callum want anything to do with him if it doesn’t involve stroking his already gargantuan ego?
“Whatever. I’ll just drink a bit and forget about it the next morning hopefully.”
“Now that’s the spirit,” Jenna says, interlocking herarm with Mason’s and walking down to the exit of the stadium with him.
“Now, let’s get some fries at Davey’s,” Jenna says as she starts pulling Mason in another direction.
“The first thing of the night that’s come out of your mouth that I’ve liked,” Mason says. Jenna sticks out her tongue at him before pulling him to the nearby campus diner.
He chuckles as he runs with her to the diner.
As the night ends on a high note with a huge basket of crispy fries, Mason can’t get Callum off his mind. What if all of this “playing nice” is just a ploy so Mason doesn’t write anything bad about him?
What if all of this is fake and Callum knows how to play Mason like a fiddle?
Are his efforts to become friends with Mason genuine or all just smoke and mirrors?
12
CALLUM
“Your dad is giving me shit.”
“When does he not?”
Callum’s already tired of whatever his coach is going to tell him before he even says it.
There’s always something after every game. His coach never gives him a hard time on his own. Coach Meyers knows Callum is his star player, and all he does is keep him on track. But since his dad is keen on attending every single game, there’s always something better that Callum could have done.
Hell, he could win the championship game, get drafted, and play the whole game by himself and win, and there would still be something wrong with how he played by his dad’s standards.
He’s sick and tired of it.
“Was it when I threw the ball too far that one time? It was that, wasn’t it?” Callum says as he stalks the field next to his coach as he heads to the locker rooms.
“No, actually. He was even less impressed today.”
“Then it had to be?—”
“Callum. It’s nothing to do with the game. It’s about that kid.”
Callum frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Coach stops and sighs. “Look, don’t make me say it. You know who I’m talking about.”
Callum scoffs and puts his hands on his hips. “I most certainly do not know who you’re talking about.”
“The kid with the glasses, Cal.”
Callum goes cold. A chill runs through him. Not the kind of invigorating, electrifying chill he gets when autumn comes around, but the kind of familiar, terrifying one he used to get as a kid when he hung out with Mason. That terrifying dread, that at any second, his dad might find them and tear both of them to shreds.
“He—he saw that?”
“He was in the stands, Callum! Now, I’m not sure if you were doing that gesture to the kid, but I’m assuming you did.”
