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Stepping around Danica, my footsteps falter, Kassidy and Callum stand there, mouths open, flabbergasted looks on their faces as well. Pushing the conversation with Danica away, I flop my backpack onto the table with an echoing thud, drawing looks in our direction.
Kassidy is forced to grasp the back of a chair to keep from toppling over when Danica knocks into her shoulder, storming away from our study area.
Opening my mouth to ask if she is hurt, Callum beats me to it
“Are you okay, Kass?”
Callum’s brows furrow together in annoyance. My hands clench as possessiveness toward Kassidy fills my blood. He has a woman and doesn’t need to coddle mine. The realization that Kassidy is mine, at least in my mind, has my breath whooshing out of me. My focus returns to my girl just in time to see her nod her head in response to Callum’s question.
Callum moves to lean on an outside corner of the bookshelves. His arms are crossed over his barrel chest, and a fuck off look etched on his face. It’s hard to tell who that attitude is aimed at right now.
Shaking off the scene with Danica, I focus on Kassidy. She is already seated, books and papers scattered on the table in front of her.
Dropping into a seat across from her, I pull papers from my backpack for Kassidy to look over. I ignore the glare Callum has directed my way. Kassidy takes the papers from me, our fingers brushing against each other, causing her breath to hitch. Callum’s presence, while understandable, hinders my opportunity to talk to Kassidy in private.
Luckily, we have another road trip coming up, leaving on Thursday morning. Kassidy won’t be able to avoid the two of us being one-on-one while we are on the road. My lips tip up on one side, causing Callum to narrow his eyes to slits in question. The man has some serious anger issues.
Having a plan somewhat in place, my attention turns back to my studies. My grades are better, but they still have room for improvement.
This semester might not suck so bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The past two nights’ study sessions, Brock has been on his best behavior. Having Callum and Rodney sitting with us hasn’t given him much choice, though.
Coffee in hand, my backpack and duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I shuffle my way to the lobby. Today starts another road trip. Kennedy surprised me when I returned home last night with a credit card linked to her account. I tried to turn it down, insisting that it wasn’t necessary, but she wasn’t hearing it. The conversation only got worse when Gareth and the guys all added their two cents about why I should take the card. In the end, it was easier to give in, so I tucked the card away in my wallet.
Exiting the building, an all-too-familiar voice calls out to me. Not quite caffeinated enough to deal with Brock, I keep walking. It doesn’t take much for him to catch up to me.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice wavering and unsure, which is unlike him.
Brock finds manners from somewhere, surprising me when he pulls my duffle bag and backpack from my shoulder, slinging it over his own.
“Morning,” I say as I continue walking.
Brock takes a deep breath in preparation to talk. Not wanting to start this trip off on the wrong foot, I stop walking, holding my hand up in a stop motion.
“Brock, listen,” I pause, quickly trying to form what is meant to be an intelligent response. What’s a girl to do at four in the morning without a full cup of coffee in her system. “Whatever you want to say, can you maybe put a pin in it? It’s too early with too little caffeine. We have a long trip today, and the last thing I want to do is be pissy on a bus full of egotistical baseball players.”
His brows furrow at my reference to them being egotistical. After opening and closing his mouth several times with no words coming out, he concedes, giving me a brief nod. We start walking again, reaching the frat house in no time. The atmosphere is not as jovial as the last time we did this. No doubt, the time of day is playing a big factor.
“Rookie,” Brock calls out, and a young, pock-marked face kid runs toward us, panting by the time he reaches where we stand in the street. “Take Kassidy’s bags to the bus.”
The kid, who is going to be a looker once his acne clears up and he gains some weight, reaches for both of my bags. Brock hands him my bags, but I grab the strap of my backpack, wanting to keep my books and laptop with me. He disappears as quickly as he appeared.
Guzzling down the caffeine, I step inside the fraternity house to use the restroom. When I open the door, I startle to find Brock leaning against the wall opposite the door, waiting for me.
“Coach just texted. It’s time to go,” he says, holding his hand out for me to take.
My gaze bounces between Brock’s outstretched hand and his face. Before my mind falls too far down the rabbit hole, he grabs my hand, tugging me behind him out the door and down the steps.
Giving up the fight, Brock and I fall into step next to each other. He refuses to let my hand go, and deciding it isn’t worth the hassle, I forget about it. Some people give us strange looks, others stare, while the rest ignore us. It surprises me how many people are up and moving this early on a college campus.
The walk to the field seems shorter this time. Apprehension fills me as we approach the buses. Like last time, one of the coaches stands at the door, checking each name off a list as the players board the buses. Brock drops my hand, placing his hand on the small of my back, urging me forward.
Getting the approval to board the bus, I hesitate. Brock gives me a little push, urging me up the steps. It feels like there is lead in my shoes, each step heavy and slow. Once we get to the top of the stairs, Brock puts his hands on my waist, urging me to the back of the bus.
Zanko is already sitting on the bench seat at the very back. His arms are crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles as they extend into the aisle. Zanko’s head is tilted back, and his eyes are closed.
