Out on the Serve (Out in College 7)

Braden chuckled. “Hey, at least Sophie didn’t ask us to move any heavy furniture.”

“Lucky you. I got roped into that yesterday. Thankfully, the weather cooperated. Want a beer?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

I headed for the fridge, pulled out two beers, and set one in front of Braden as he took a seat on the opposite side of the island. “How about a grilled cheese?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

I adjusted the heat on the burner and added cheese to the buttered bread before setting it on the pan. I grabbed a spatula from the drawer, then asked, “So, are you moving in?”

“Yeah, I’d love to. This is exactly what I was looking for. It’s affordable and convenient. I’m sure Soph told you this would be temporary for me. I need something closer to LA through September, and I want to be near the beach.”

“Cool. That works for me. It’ll give me a couple of months to find a replacement. Seriously, you’re doing me a huge favor.”

“It’s not a favor. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he replied evenly.

Mutually beneficial arrangement…hmm. That sounded kinda kinky.

Not going to happen, I reminded myself again. “Right. Um, so are you playing any volleyball this summer?”

“A little. I need to stay in shape. It’s going to be weird, though. A bunch of my teammates graduated too, and a few already have ‘real jobs.’ The ones who don’t are busy looking for something. I’m the only guy I know who’s staying in the area for grad school. I’m going to join a few clinics with some friends in Orange, but I don’t want to overcommit ’cause I just auditioned for a role in a Shakespeare play here in Long Beach.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re an actor.”

“Not really,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m kind of a hack. But I love the theater. If I don’t get the part I auditioned for, I’m sure they’ll give me a nonspeaking role.”

“Is that the same show Sophie tried out for?”

“Yeah, but she’s a natural. That girl lives for drama.”

“Ya think?” I snorted.

He snickered appreciatively and took a pull from his beer. I stared at his full lips around the bottle for a moment too long before I snapped out of it and realized he was talking.

“…probably too much time on my hands, but everything will change when I’m in grad school. I plan on enjoying my freedom. I just hope it doesn’t make me crazy.”

“Crazy, eh? You never struck me as a hothead when our teams played,” I said, flipping the grilled cheese over and flattening it to the pan with the spatula.

That was true. I might not know the guy well, but Braden was a cool customer on the court. He’d always seemed calm and controlled. I vividly recalled him matter-of-factly delivering kill shots without blinking. He never gloated or celebrated longer than necessary. He was almost Zen-like.

“I have my moments.”

“Don’t we all? I’m pretty easygoing, but I admit, I get a little manic on the court. I’m almost worse on the sand, which is weird ’cause the vibe at the beach is so mellow.”

“You want to win. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he replied thoughtfully, shifting on his barstool to scan the adjoining living area. “That’s a huge flat-screen.”

I waggled my brows. “Perfect for watching movies and playing video games. I’ve got my priorities straight. Do you play? Please say yes. And if so, what are your favorite games?”

Braden chuckled. “Of course, I do. But I don’t have a favorite game. I like the sports ones, like FIFA and NBA 2K20…”

“Snoozeville,” I teased as I slid my grilled cheese onto a plate. “I’m kidding. I was obsessed with FIFA 20 when it first came out, but I always go back to Call of Duty. Come check out my collection.”

I sounded overly enthusiastic to my own ears. Whatever. I was ridiculously happy not to be the only man in the house. Five months of living with Sophie had been fine…but exhausting. I grabbed a bag of chips and another round of beer and angled my head toward the living area. I set my plate and the other goodies on the surfboard-style coffee table and flopped onto the sofa.

Thanks to my mom’s new “interior design” phase and the cast-off furniture Colby’s mom and stepdad gave us when we first moved in, my apartment was nicer than the average college student’s. My mom tossed a few “ocean-inspired” throw pillows around and dubbed the space “basic collegiate nautical.” Insert eye roll. But I couldn’t complain. It was nice, and the high ceilings and wide window leading to a small balcony made the apartment seem bigger than it was. The oversized sofa and a couple of beanbag chairs faced a giant flat-screen TV, so there was plenty of room to kick back and chill.

He perched on the opposite corner of the sectional and gestured toward the surfboard coffee table. “That’s kind of cool.”