The Freshman (College Years 1)

“Diego mentioned a friend.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Great. Probably a girl. He usually tries to keep that behavior under wraps when Gracie’s around.”

We don’t get those two, but we’re also part of the problem, since we encourage them to leave each other alone. We probably make them want to spend more time together.

“Let’s sit and watch the game for a little bit,” I suggest with a smile. “And then maybe we can talk?”

“Sure,” he says with a nod, his expression solemn.

We settle into the giant overstuffed chair with matching ottoman, the two of us cozied up next to each other. I love sitting with him like this. My head on his chest, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. Usually he strokes my back or plays with my hair, but not tonight. He’s too busy watching the game, his jaw tense, his gaze fixed. He looks upset, and I refuse to be one of those chicks who constantly asks her man what’s wrong.

But it’s like I can’t help myself.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him quietly when there’s a commercial break.

He nods, his gaze still on the TV. “Sure.”

I don’t believe him.

I think back on the last few days. Weeks, even. And I can’t recall a single thing that I did that would irritate him enough that he’d feel the need to talk to me about it. Why am I even thinking it has anything to do with me? Maybe something’s going on elsewhere in his life. Maybe his dad. Or his mom. They always stress him out.

I know my parents always stress me out.

Gracie flirts with Jackson throughout the game, and he’s receptive, flirting with her right back. I think of Ellie. Ava’s friend who crushes on Jackson hard. I’ve heard enough about her to know Jackson treats her like a friend and that’s it. The girl throws herself at him and he’s not interested.

Ouch. Poor thing.

But I know Gracie isn’t interested in him either, though he’s right up her alley. Musician. Sexy. An air of mystery about him. I watch them chat, how flirtatious he is with her. How he touches her on the arm frequently and she laughs at everything he says.

Shit.

The door swings open near the end of halftime, Caleb walking in with a familiar face.

That girl from the photos. The one Gracie was jealous of.

Baylee.

Double shit.

“Look who I found,” Caleb says excitedly and the guys greet her halfheartedly, despite her enthusiastic wave and smile. It’s immediately replaced by a frown when she realizes none of the guys care.

Double ouch.

“Hey. I’m Hayden,” I tell her with a wave, ignoring Gracie as she glares at me. I don’t have it in me to be rude toward this girl. I also don’t bother saying I’m with Tony. With the way we’re snuggled up together, it’s fairly obvious.

“I’m Baylee,” she says, her smile grateful. I’m sure she appreciates the acknowledgment. Why are the guys being such asshats?

She’s pretty. Brown hair that’s curled to perfection, sparkling brown eyes. She’s got a cute style, her long legs clad in faded mom jeans and a cropped white tank with an oversized black zippered hoodie covering her, though it hangs open. Very on-trend.

Gracie sends me daggers with her eyes before she rises to her feet, making her way to Caleb and Baylee. He’s frozen in place when he spots her, his expression saying, uh oh, busted. I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

“Hi,” Gracie says, her attention for Baylee and no one else. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Gracie.”

“Hi,” Baylee says cheerily, “Baylee.”

They shake hands.