Page 79 of Return Policy
I pinch my fingers together, swipe them across my flattened lips, then throw away the invisible key.
“Okay, fine… But can you at least confirm it was Elijah?”
“Nah, I just thought I’d fuck some other guy, then wear a T-shirt home with ‘Anderson’ across the back,” I deadpan, turning around.
“Sophia!” she gasps. “Youfuckedhim?”
“Yep,” I say proudly.
“Finally! One to ten, how good was his honey dick? Because if he fucks as good as he looks… I don’t think I’d ever be able to walk again.”
“Sage!” I throw a stuffed koala at her, and we’re both bubbling with laughter. “I amnevergoing to be able to walk again.”
21
ELIJAH
There are thirty seconds left in the fourth quarter, and Texas A&M is beating us fourteen to twenty-one. We’re on offense, twenty yards from the end zone, and all we need is one touchdown to tie the game and go into overtime.
Texas’s defense is rough.
They slammed Noah so hard last quarter, Coach took him out for the rest of the game. Noah says he doesn’t mind sharing the field, but I can tell all the play time he’s missing from getting injured is bothering him.
I run onto the field and join the boys, getting into position. We have one play to make this happen. With burning lungs, I shout, “Down, set, hike!”
Julian launches the ball, and it lands flawlessly in my grasp. I scan upfield, finding both Theo and Desmond covered by defenders. The roar of the crowd is so loud I can barely hear myself think. I’m used to it from years of playing, but sometimes it still overwhelms me.
A defensive lineman slams me down so hard we both skid across the ground. The ball pops out of my hands, and I scramble, but it’s no use. A player from the other team has already scooped it up. He only gets a few steps before he’s tackled, ending the game. Shaking my head, I kick my cleat against the grass, frustrated as shit with myself. We were so damn close. All I needed to do was get that ball to the end zone.
The boys and I shuffle off the field, our heads hanging low.
Guess the team’s better off with me riding the bench than calling the shots.
Once we get into the locker room, I sit down and bury my face in my hands.
“Anderson, it’s not the end of the world,” Noah says, sitting next to me and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Does it suck? Hell yeah. We were close. We had those guys by the balls. But we’ll do better next week.”
“I feel like I let everyone down.” Standing up, I tug my jersey over my head before chucking it into my locker.
“It’s a team game, Elijah. It’s not just you against the world.” He squeezes my shoulder. “We win as a team, we lose as a team,” he yells loudly. “Right boys?”
“Hell yeah,” the team yells in unison.
“We’ll work our asses off at practice this week, and then we’ll kick USC’s ass next Saturday. Okay?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Yeah, alright.”
And this is why he’s captain.
“Alright,” Noah says, grinning at me. “Go shower. Don’t want to be late to see the birthday girl.”
* * *
We walk into Salty Pete’s, the first bar of Sophia’s Birthday Bar Crawl—insert jazz hands—and it’s filled with drunk college students in ridiculous or slutty costumes. Noah, Desmond, Theo, Julian, and a few other guys from the team are staggering in behind me dressed as different zoo animals.
Girls ogle us hungrily as we pass, which used to give me a rush, but there’s only one girl’s eyes I care about being on me right now. I’ve barely seen her since she left my place Monday looking like a damn vision in sweats with my name blazoned across her back. If I thought I was in trouble before… I’m really up the creek now.
Everything about Sophia Summers is perfection.
