It’s a fucked-up situation.
“Rhodes, you coming over or what?” Asher asks, standing around totally buck naked with his junk flapping in the breeze.
Er…not that I’m looking.
But it’s kind of hard to miss.
“Nah, don’t think so.” Sitting around with these assholes, drinking beer, and playing video games is the last thing on my mind.
He shifts and grabs a towel from the bench before drying his hair. “Did you forget about the rematch in NHL that you owe me?”
“Sorry, it’s not happening tonight. I’ve got some homework to finish up. Not all of us are BS communications majors.”
He flashes a grin before grabbing his boxers from his locker and hauling them up his thighs. “You’re just jealous that it’ll be my pretty mug on TV after I’m done playing ball.”
I snort. “You’ve got more of a face for radio.” Actually, nothing could be further from the truth. Asher Stevens gets all the chicks he could want. Most of the time, he has a girl tucked under each arm. Hell, they show up at the house he shares with Rowan, Brayden, Easton, and Carson on a regular basis to do his laundry.
It's just as ridiculous as the degree he’s working on.
“Come on, dude,” he whines like a big, six-foot baby, “I’ve got Allison and Beth coming over tonight. I’m sure they’ve got a few friends who would be more than happy to tag along and keep you company.”
I shake my head. “Nope, still not interested.”
“Hey,” Andrew pipes up, “what about me? I could use a little company.”
The words shoot out of my mouth before I can rein them in again. “Thought you were working on getting back together with Brooke.”
Not even a flicker of guilt flashes across his face as he shrugs, grabbing a T-shirt from his locker and dragging it over his head. “I am. So what?”
“You think banging other girls is gonna help with that objective?”
He frowns as if seriously contemplating the question. “No, but what am I supposed to do? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs while I wait for her to change her mind?”
Un-fucking-believable.
Just as I open my mouth to blast him, I slam it shut again.
What the hell am I doing?
The best possible outcome would be for Andrew to move on and leave Brooke alone. I need to get out of here before I get sucked into any more conversations or inadvertently convince Andrew that he should remain focused on his ex.
Without another word, I slink out of the locker room before exiting the athletic center. I pull the gray hoodie over my damp hair and make my way to my black Mustang and slide behind the wheel. I rev the engine a few times, enjoying the rough purr before gunning it out of the parking lot. It takes less than five minutes before I’m pulling into the parking garage beneath the apartment building.
Like I’d park my baby on the street.
Even though the surrounding area near Western’s campus is fairly safe, crime still happens. It only took my vehicle getting broken into one time freshman year before I installed a state-of-the-art alarm system. When I moved off campus junior year, underground parking was non-negotiable.
A couple guys say hello and tell me that they’re looking forward to the game this weekend as I push my way through the door and into the lobby. As I head toward the elevator, I spot a group of girls. Like hell am I trapping myself inside with them. All the giggling and sly looks directed my way drive me batshit crazy. Before they can catch sight of me, I yank open the metal door that leads to the stairwell and take the steps two at a time. Once I reach the fourth floor, I’m breathing heavy.
After the drills Coach put us through, I’m beat. If I weren’t looking forward to texting with Brooke, I’d finish up my homework and hit the sheets.
With Andrew heading over to Asher’s place, the apartment is dark and quiet. I grab a protein bar from the kitchen cabinet and head into my room to hit the books. These engineering classes are no joke, but it’s important to my parents that I earn a degree that’s practical. Something I can use if my plans for the NFL fall through. Mom has a doctorate in anthropology and teaches at Columbia. My father is an orthopedic surgeon with his own practice, and my older brother is following in his illustrious footsteps. For years, my parents attempted to push me the med school route, but that was never going to happen. My brother might be cut out for that kind of life, but I’m not.
It’s not difficult to feel like the black sheep of our family. Even from a young age, I realized their life wasn’t the one I wanted. They might not have liked it, but I’ve managed to carve my own path. Hopefully, the NFL will be part of that future. Even if it’s just for a handful of years. It’s more than some guys get.