I huff. “Those women can drool over whomever they please, Kelley included. I don’t have a claim on him.” I tear my eyes away from the group of girls, and Jesse snorts.
“Sure, V. That’s why you growled and started frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog protecting her favorite squeaky toy.”
I shove Jesse’s shoulder. “That’s not true.” I start to protest just as a cheer comes from the field. I whip my eyes back to find Kelley staring right at me, a triumphant smile on his face and his arms raised in celebration. He scored. I clap and cheer proudly, my smile likely bigger than his, and giddy butterflies do laps in my tummy.
“Mmhhmmm.” Bailey chuckles from beside Jesse. “No claim.”
“Hush,” I scold, then tune them both out, ignoring the way my heart skipped under Kelley’s attention.
He’s my best friend, and he’s an amazing soccer player. It’s completely acceptable for me to be proud of him when he scores.
Kelley should be playing soccer for BU on scholarship. It’s the only reason he came to Butler in the first place. I got an academic scholarship, he got a soccer scholarship, and we were supposed to brave freshman year of college together.
Except we didn’t.
Instead, I spent a year at the community college near Bowen, leaving Kelley to experience the college life as a star athlete without me. But when I transferred back, I found that Kelley was no longer on soccer scholarship. He’s never told me why, and I don’t press.
We both have our secrets, and I don’t know when, if ever, I’ll be ready to share mine.
No, Kelley and I are solid just how we are. Our friendship is pretty perfect as it is. Why do or say anything that could change that?
The game wraps up with Kelley’s team scoring the final goal off of his assist. Bailey, Jesse, and I cheer loudly and watch as the teams do their good game fist bumps or whatever.
One guy shoulder checks Kelley, and my hackles rise, but Kelley brushes it off. I watch as the two exchange a few words. The guy Kelley is talking to looks kind of familiar, but I can’t quite place him. I squint to see him better, and then the guy gives Kelley a shove.
What the heck?
They’re obviously arguing about something. The game, maybe? Curse the distance. They’re too far away for me to eavesdrop. I should really learn to read lips.
The third time the guy rams his shoulder into Kelley, I’m livid. Then I realize why he looks so familiar.
“Bails. That’s him. The guy from the other night. Brock.”
“Brock?” She questions, but quickly her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter, squinting back at the field. “Wait. The BDD?”
I nod and she snarls in his direction.
“Wait, what? Who? What’s a BDD?” Jesse jumps in.
“Big dick dumbass.”
“Ha! That’s a good one,” Jesse barks. “Why do we hate him?” he asks, still laughing.
“He tried to tell Ivy he didn’t have a condom like two weekends ago. Tried to talk her into boning bare.”
“Oh no he didn’t.” Jesse’s smile drops, and he turns a glare toward Brock.
“And he told me I had a fat a-s-s,” I whisper.
“What?” Jesse jumps. “What, like, as an insult? He said you had a fat ass as an insult?”
Bailey nods, and we reply at the same time.
“Mmhmm.”
“Yeppers.”
“I’ll kill him.” Jesse stands quickly, but Bailey cuts him off.