Page 101 of Overtime

Next, we’re all subjected to a poll of which sizes we prefer. No one raises their hands when Alex shouts for A lovers last.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Come on, Falls. Don’t be shy. You’re our quarterback. We want to know what you like.”

“No one cares what I like.”

My senior teammates snicker among themselves.

Josh Duncan, a junior who makes me want to pummel his ass on the regular, completely loses his shit, gasping for air and doubling over. “It’s true? You like flat chests? Man, that is just so fucked up.”

“The only thing fucked up is this epic waste of time. Get your asses on the field. Now.”

Finally, finally, the team realizes I’m not joking and trudges their way out of the locker room.

Alex tries to slip past me, but I grab him by the shoulder. Hard.

“What was the point of that little exercise?”

Another evil grin splits his face. “To make you realize what you’ve been missing out on, so you’ll do something with this golden opportunity.”

“I hate you.”

He pats my cheek. “You love me. Maybe not as much as you love the smallest set of tits I’ve ever seen, but you definitely love me.”

“You said it yourself.” We fall into step down the hallway toward the practice field. “Small and perfect are better than huge and fake.”

“I said huge and real are perfect,” he laughs. “I have no idea why you’re so hung up on a chick who’s flatter than a field.”

“She’s the perfect package, Alex. She has it all.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Guess you better get to work this year then.”

“That’s the plan.” Somehow, I don’t think telling her I know her exact measurements is the way to go.

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