Page 25 of The Game Plan

“To what?”

He rolls his eyes. “Come off it. I know why you’re really here.”

“You’re the worst,” I tell him, and he laughs.

Miles catches my eye over the head of the other girl. His face goes red.

His mom follows his eye over to me. “Oh, Miles. Is that your little friend from last week?”

I don’t know whether I should be offended by that or not. I’m hardly little. Thick, they call me. Muscular, maybe. I’m not little.

He sidesteps his family and comes over to me. Like the other guys, he’s carrying a protein shake in a clear plastic cup.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes bright. “You’re here.”

“Had to come out and say hi to the guy with the three sacks,” I tell him. “Great game.”

Behind him, Greg sniggers. Wes elbows him in the ribs.

“Thanks,” he says, lifting one of his massive hands to rub the back of his neck.

“Have you met Tamar?”

“Hi,” he says, looking none too pleased.

“That’s your family?” I nod over to them.

He looks back at where they’re clustered, not five feet away. All four of them are blatantly eavesdropping.

“Yeah. Would you…” His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you want to meet them?”

“Come introduce us to your little friends, Miles,” his mom says.

His face flames red. “I’m so sorry about them.”

I pat his strong arm. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. They’re cool.”

“You say that now…” He shakes his head.

We close the gap, Tamar and the other guys not far behind us.

“Sam, this is my family. Everyone, this is my friend Sam. We have statistics together.”

The taller girl giggles. The shorter one—she looks way younger up close—looks me over with interest.

“My mom, Nancy, and my dad Steve,” he says, introducing us. “My sisters, Mackenzie and Ashley.”

“Nice to meet you, honey,” his mom says. She has a broad smile on her face. Her eyes are warm. “I’m always so happy to meet Miles’s friends.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” I manage.

“So you’re the girl keeping my boy on his toes,” his dad booms, clapping Miles on the back. “Good for you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…”

“We’re just friends,” Miles says, and I don’t know why, but there’s a rock in the pit of my stomach.

Friends. We’re friends. We study together. We’ve had dinner together a few times. We barely know each other.

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