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“Why are we watching chick flicks again?” Jude asked.
“Because Theo needs inspiration.”
“I’d like to point out that we were watching chick flicks before you found out about my relationship problems,” I told him.
“Best friend’s intuition,” he retorted.
“Fuck you, I’m his best friend,” Jude said. “I’ve known him longer.”
“I live with him.”
“Do you know his favorite color?” Jude twisted toward Wyatt, looking ready to go to war over something as ridiculous as what my favorite color was. Granted, there was no way either of them knew the answer to that.
“Neither of you know my favorite color,” I scoffed, cutting them both off.
“Blue,” they replied in unison, making each other laugh.
“Yeah, but what shade of blue?” I shot back. What shade of blue would Rhodes’ eyes be considered? They weren’t a regular blue. They were too pale for that, and there was a little gray in them, especially when he was tired. So… faded blue? Denim? Stormy? Whatever that color was called, apparently that was my favorite now. God, I was pathetic.
“Light blue.” Jude’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah, but not like the color of our jerseys,” Wyatt corrected. “More a gray-toned blue.”
Well, that was unsettlingly accurate.
“Okay, stalkers,” I muttered as I turned red around the ears. They were too damn perceptive for their own good. Granted, I knew the exact shades of their favorite colors too. Wyatt loved that warm golden-orange color that showed up right before sunset, while Jude liked everything turquoise and teal.
“What’d you guys talk to Coach Kennedy about?” Wyatt asked, changing the topic.
The name alone pulled something unpleasant through my chest. Coach Kennedy. I took another drink.
“The fucker gave me homework,” Jude complained.
“How does a football coach give you homework?” I frowned.
“I have to start figuring out what I want to do with my life,” he said. His voice changed as he mocked his brother. “It’s important to have a direction, Jude. You may not end up there, but you won’t end up anywhere if you don’t know where to start. Standing still gets you nowhere.”
“That’s very fortune cookie of him,” I commented.
“I got offered private math tutoring,” Wyatt told us. “I placed out of all the math classes HT has to offer.”
I turned toward him, eyes widening. So did Jude.
“How the hell do you place out of all the math classes a college has to offer?” Jude demanded.
“I took them all in high school,” he replied all too casually.
“Are you a fucking genius?” I couldn’t hide the awe in my voice. We’d lived together, shared classes, and played football together for almost three years. I knew he hated mushrooms, watched romance movies when he was stressed, and slept with one foot sticking out from under the blanket no matter how cold the room was. And he never once thought to mention being some kind of mathematical prodigy.
“Just in math.” He shrugged. “Rhodes said he’d work with me on math stuff and could probably help me get an internship in my field of choice if I wanted.”
“That’s awesome,” Jude exclaimed. His shoulder pushed into mine. “What’d he say to you?”
I busied myself with a drink as I debated how best to answer, because it was clear our conversations were very different. Rhodes had asked about football, and later, in front of the whole team, he’d said only one player was currently being scouted. He hadn’t said who, but I wasn’t an idiot. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, but still. The possibility had been bouncing around my head ever since.
“We… talked about football,” I answered slowly.
Jude’s brows drew together.
