The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(27)

Opening the door, I jumped, spotting the figure lounging on the couch shoved into the corner of my room. Even after a win, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who didn’t feel like partying.

“I knew we shouldn’t have made you the key master.” I flopped down onto the couch beside LJ.

“I come bearing beers.” He held out a frosty bottle. Condensation streaked down the side of the glass. “What’s up with you? You’re all gloomy and moody.”

“Am not.” I grabbed the beer from him, sloshing some onto my lap.

“Right, definitely not acting like a moody chick.”

“I’m not moody. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like nearly drowning that girl.”

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I took a gulp of beer. “She’s perfectly fine now. The game today was just more of the same. Nothing to get too excited about.”

“At least you got to play. Coach has it out for me with a vengeance.”

“What happened? You two were cool and you started nearly every game, but now he pulls you the second you sneeze wrong.”

He stared out my window, picking at the label on his beer. “He’s not a big fan of me right now.”

“I know, that’s why I said it. Did you run over his dog or something?”

“If only, but with him having it out for me, it looks like my chances at the pros are dwindling more and more with each game.”

“You’ve got tape from other seasons. Anyone can see what kind of player you are.”

He shrugged.

“Where’s your shadow?”

He lifted his head and his forehead crinkled. “Marisa? She’s hanging with her roommate tonight.”

“Aww, that’s sad. They didn’t invite you along to girls’ night? You’ll have to paint your nails all by yourself.”

“Har har har.”

My door flew open. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell the partygoers to leave but then Nix stormed in like he was ready to set the floor on fire. Kicking the door closed behind him, he yanked his hands out of his pockets. He paced in front of my dresser like he was trying to wear a groove in the floor. He’d left straight after the game to go to his dad’s place. His black shoes had a bright mirror polish, and the long black cashmere coat, black dress pants, and gloves he wore made him look like a guy in a magazine.

He unbuttoned the coat and chucked it straight at the floor.

“I take it dinner went well.”

His head snapped up and he glared at us. “If by ‘well’ you mean a train wreck, then yes, it went perfectly.”

“He’s not satisfied with the six-and-oh season?” LJ rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Family expectations are a bitch,” Nix grumbled. “And the pink-haired menace next door called the cops again.”

We all groaned.

“At least it was the campus police this time, not the city.” He squeezed his shoulder, massaging it.

“Her house is where fun goes to die.” I peered out my window over at the house across the street. They’d pretty much been our nemesis from the day we moved in.

“You’re in luck—I came prepared.” LJ leaned over the arm of the couch and pulled out another beer.

I craned my neck. “How many beers do you have in there?”

“I’ll never tell.”

He slid the lid closed on the cooler he’d parked in my room.

“We’ve got to win the championship.” Nix grabbed the beer from LJ’s hand.

“What the hell do you think we’ve been trying to do?”

“You don’t understand.” He ran his hands through his hair and took a long gulp from the bottle. “Your dad’s not like this? He’s never been an unrelenting force pushing you to play no matter what?” He stared at me in disbelief.

“My dad wouldn’t even let me try out for the team in high school.”

“What?” LJ and Nix both yelled at the same time.

“I had to do it behind his back. It wasn’t until my name showed up in the paper for a seventy-yard touchdown—the longest in my high school’s history—that he even realized.” Sneaking my gear in through my bedroom window day after day for practice hadn’t been fun, but my dad had been strict about not playing. Part of me wondered if it was because he didn’t think I’d measure up or if he was worried I’d show him up.

“He didn’t want you to play? Why?” LJ leaned against the arm of the couch.

“We never really got beyond the whole ‘no’ part of that conversation. He quit when I was three, my brother was five, and my sister had just been born. Said he missed us too much and it was too hard on Mom to have to take care of the three of us all by herself.”

“It’s a hell of a lot easier when you can pay for a nanny. I should know, because that’s what my dad did—when he wasn’t making me run drills for hours every day in the offseason.”

“Families are fucked up sometimes, man.” LJ drummed his knuckles against the side of the condensation-covered bottle.

“What about you? No family expectations now that the pros are right around the corner?”

Nix and I both turned to LJ. He shrugged. “Not really. My mom’s happy if I’m happy. My dad still can’t believe I’ve made it this far. You’ve seen them at the games. They look at me like there’s got to be some mistake, not that this season is erasing any of their doubts.” He ran his knuckle along the edge of the neck of the bottle.