“For whatever reason, that brother-in-law of yours thinks you have a lot of potential. I was just on the phone with him last week. Right before you ditched us.”

“You were?” I rub my chest, surprised that Drew would bother to call him.

“I was. He thinks you could go pro. I agree with him. But if you’re going to blow it every time you get your panties in a twist or your heart broken, you’re never going to make it.”

Coach Halsey is right. He gives me another ten minutes of the same speech and I take it, bowing my head, saying “yes sir” and “no sir” in all the right places. Until finally he claps me on the shoulder, tells me to show up tomorrow afternoon for practice or else, and then leaves my house as if he’d never been there in the first place.

I am a lucky bastard, that he’s giving me another chance. I don’t deserve it.

“Did that work?”

I turn to find Wade studying me, his expression completely neutral. Right about now, Wade would make a most excellent poker player. “If you mean did Coach set my head on straight, then yeah. I think so.”

“You’d better do more than just think so. One more screw-up and you’re gone. Don’t f**k up.”

“I won’t,” I promise, but I know that’s going to be near impossible. I f**k up all the time. Even Wade said so.

“Stop faking it and actually make it for once,” Wade continues, his gaze level with mine. “I think you can do it if you just let yourself. You’re stronger than you think, dude.”

I wish I believed in myself as much as Wade does.

CHAPTER 20

Owen

“You shouldn’t do it.”

I glance up to find Wade studying me, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed. He’s let his dark hair grow out since the beginning of the semester and it falls around his face in downright curly waves. I’ve told him more than once he looks like a pu**y with all that hair in his face.

But the chicks f**king dig it. He’s had more tail than I ever did. Big bad football player with the shaggy hair and pretty face gets all the ladies, which doesn’t make sense to me, but whatever.

That’s what we’re doing now. Having yet another party at our house. But this one is legit. We’re celebrating the big win, the one that’s taking us to the playoffs. Practically the entire team is in our house, spilling out onto the front porch, the front yard, the backyard. The neighbors are tolerant, the majority of the houses on our street are filled with college students, but still.

We’re loud. The party is getting semi out of control and it’s not even midnight. There are girls everywhere. The place is crawling with them. Even Des is here. Wade reluctantly let him come over since for whatever reason, Wade has decided to become my personal bodyguard, detective, and bouncer, all in one.

This is how he’s caught me, all alone in the bathroom with a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other. I’m happy as f**k, thrilled we’re on our way to the playoffs, but I’m plagued with thoughts. Bad thoughts.

I swore I saw Chelsea this afternoon at the game. Same hair, same style of clothes, same long sexy-as-hell legs, the girl had been with her friends, both male and female, and she kept distracting me. Especially when the guy sitting next to her slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, kissing her.

Jealousy had torn at me and I ripped off my helmet, glaring at her. Glaring at him. Could she really be ballsy enough to show up at a game and make out with some jackass right in front of me?

Turned out it wasn’t her at all, but it was too late. My brain was f**ked. Chelsea was in there. Insistent and sweet and pissed and sexy and naked and smiling, and hell.

I couldn’t shake her.

“Come on, dude, give it to me.” Wade holds out his hand, waiting for me to drop the joint in his palm, but I don’t.

Instead I flick the brand-new lighter and the flame appears. I spark the joint up, take a long, slow drag, and let the harsh smoke fill my lungs, holding it there until I finally can’t take it anymore and exhale.

“Bastard,” Wade mutters when I drop the joint in his palm after that one-and-only hit. He shoves the joint in his jeans pocket. “I thought you were laying off the weed.”

“Something f**ked with my head today,” I tell him as we emerge from the bathroom together. Three scantily dressed girls stand in our hallway, bursting into laughter as we push past them, the noise grating on my nerves.

“Something or someone?”

I shrug. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So you’d rather pretend it never happened by smoking. Gimme a break.”

“Who are you to judge? You never refused when I offered you a hit.” He’s been my partner in crime for years. He’s my best friend. We’ve always been in this together.

Since when did he grow up and turn into the responsible one?

We stop outside the kitchen, the two of us just taking it all in. The place is a madhouse. Loud music, louder people, lots of beer, and the living room is filled with smoke, the pungent smell of marijuana permeating the entire house.

Fucking great. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I know how to control myself. You don’t. There’s the difference.” He gives me a shove on the shoulder. “We’re not kids anymore, Owen. It’s one thing to f**k around, get in trouble, and smoke it up all the time when you’re a kid. It’s another thing entirely when you f**k around and do all those same things as an adult. You get arrested, and suddenly you’ve got a permanent record.”