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“Was she wicked smart like you?” With me, he’s more connected to Beau.
“Yeah,” I answer. “She was, and she used to say, ‘Apathy is the opposite of love, not hate.’”
“So,” he grins, “you’re saying I’m in deep hate with Bronson because I have lots of feelings about the Super Bowl?”
“Yep. That’s why y’all have your jock straps in a twist over an interception.”
He laughs. “You may be right about an interception, but not jockstraps. None of us wear cups, and few wear straps.”
My eyes get wide. “You free ball? Won’t your meat and potatoes get mashed?”
He looks me in the eye, not too shy to explain, “A cup can pinch my potatoes, and it gets in the way. It slows me down. That’s why most of us have big thighs, like pillows protecting our meat.”
Don’t do it. Don’t look at Colton’s crotch. Just accept the meaty facts.
It takes all my might not to…
Whoops, I did it. I can’t fight my slutty DNA. I glance and…
Oh my god, Colton’s free balling in navy cotton shorts and laying pipe like Beau. With these two, I’ll have Dick Brain for days, so I force my wide pupils to lock back to his.
“You go commando?”
“Nah.” He grins because he caught me drooling. “I wear the same game-day underwear. So does Bronson. White Hanes boxer briefs. We’ve worn them since we won state our senior year in high school.”
I do the stinky math, my nostrils twitching, adding it up. “You’ve worn the same pair of underwear for twelve years? Eww! Talk about winning streaks.”
Colton falls back, laughing. “We fucking wash them! But don’t come between a player and his superstitions.”
“Superstitions. Distractions.” I roll my eyes. “Y’all act like voodoo wins games, not skills.”
“Raven, all that matters is we win.”
We curl up under our towels, talking some more until we fall asleep under the stars.
I have peaceful dreams by Colton’s side. I’ve found a friend while our mutual love sleeps alone in his bed, and I know Beau. He wants me out here with Colton since he can’t be.
But when we wake up to, “What the fuck is this?”
Amber Kostas is about to find out why you don’t fuck with me until I’ve had my coffee.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Who wouldn’t want to Peter, Paul, and Mary with you two?”
BEAU
“What the fuck is this?”
I hear Armageddon start before it begins.
Outside my glass bedroom doors, Amber stands with fists on her waist. She’s staring down at Blair and Colt, who fell asleep on their loungers.
I loved watching Blair get to know him and making him laugh. I wasn’t jealous. I was relieved.
It hurts Colt and me that we can’t be together, and mostly, it’s my fault. I have to constantly remind him to think with his head, not his heart.
Our careers are over if we’re outed.
