“You play football? What position?”
I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “Left tackle.”
“Did you hear that, Pipes?” She hooks her arm through Piper’s. “He plays football.” She turns back to me. “Wait. Left tackle is the blindside, like in that movie, right?”
“It depends on whether the quarterback is right or left-handed, but in this case, yeah. Reid’s right-handed, so it’s my job to provide protection.”
She cocks her head thoughtfully, but there’s mischief in her eyes. “So would you say you’re the strong, protective type, then?”
Piper shoots her a WTF look and I can’t suppress the chuckle that escapes my lips.
“I guess you could say that.”
After all, I’ve been taking care of my mom and grandma for the last ten years.
“My older brother played football. He made me promise to never, under any circumstances, date a player. He says you’re all man-whores.” Piper snickers and Jenna hastily adds, “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Though I doubt this conversation is doing me any favors with Piper.
“Fortunately,” Jenna continues, flashing me a knowing grin. “Piper is an only child, so she’s free to date all the man-whores she wants.”
Jesus Christ. This woman is the female version of Coop.
Imagine the hell they’d raise if they ever met.
I shudder at the prospect.
“I don’t have time to date one man-whore, let alone man-whores plural.” Piper gives her friend a pointed look. “I came to Waverly for the academics, not the social scene.”
“Can’t you do both?” I cringe the instant the words are out of my mouth, and I make an awkward attempt at clarification. “Not the man-whore part, but the social part.”
Because hell no, I don’t want Piper playing the field with some fuckboy who doesn’t deserve her time or attention.
She shrugs. “Not with my schedule.”
Damn if I can’t relate. During football season, my schedule is brutal. Most days, I’m up at five and I don’t crash until midnight with conditioning, team meetings, classes, practice, and study hall crammed in, but I’m not trying to make this conversation about myself. “What’s your major?”
“Elementary Education.”
Talk about a selfless gig.
Long hours, low pay, not nearly enough respect. The woman is a saint.
“We’re both education majors,” she says, gesturing to Jenna, who’s double-timing it to match our long strides. “It’s how we met.”
I slow my pace and Piper does the same.
“What about you?” Jenna asks. “What are you studying besides playbooks?”
“I’m an agribusiness major.”
“Like farming?” Her brow furrows. “I thought all you jock types studied communications and sports marketing. You know, easy stuff.”
She’s kidding, but it’s a common misconception. Despite being a certified himbo, Coop is one of the smartest guys I know, and Reid makes the Dean’s List every semester. Parker and I aren’t exactly slouches either. Coach wouldn’t allow it. He runs a tight program and he expects the best from his athletes on and off the field.
“I’m here to get an education, same as you.” I shrug. “Football is just a means to an end.”
