Maybe another time.” He pauses and nods toward Jerome. “You know who could use a date? Jerome over there.”
Jerome laughs, throwing his head back. “Yeah, okay, man. Hardly.”
It’s true. Jerome doesn’t need any help in the women department. He is always dating someone new—that is, if dating means screwing. I guess he might need some assistance in keeping them around longer. The same goes for Josh. He doesn’t have a shortage of women coming out of his revolving bedroom door either.
“Can’t wait for you to meet Lily,” I say to Stella. “She is always asking these guys when they are going to find a nice girl.”
Josh speaks to Stella, “And we’re telling you the same thing we tell her. We don’t want a nice girl. We want very bad girls.”
“You’re a pig.” I chuckle.
“Am I wrong?” Josh says to the guys.
“Sorry. Can’t deny it,” Jerome answers. “Who needs nice at twenty? I’m looking for hot and easy.”
“Jerome!” Stella squeals, playfully hitting him on the shoulder.
He shrugs. “What? It’s true.”
I shake my head in laughter.
Ben addresses Stella, “And don’t let pretty boy here fool you. Before Lily, he was a man-whore. I think he slept with every available girl in our high school.”
“In my defense, it was a small school,” I say, straight-faced.
I sit cross-legged on my bed amid five open textbooks, comparing my notes and highlights for the paper I need to write. I’ve read it all multiple times, but the details are blurring together. Fuck.
I sigh as I bring my pen to my mouth, and I chew on the end of it. My phone buzzes next to me, and I peer down to see a text from Lily. I’ll write her back later. I have to finish this paper. I’m going to lose my mind if I have to continue to read the same shit over and over.
Voices from beyond my bedroom door catch my attention.
I hear Ben say, “He’s in his room.”
Just great.
My bedroom door swings open and then shuts loudly. The soft sound of deliberate strides, so angry in nature, fills my room like I never thought steps across carpet could do.
I look up from my textbooks. “Hi, Dad.” My voice comes out exhausted and resigned, which is exactly how I feel.
“Don’t you get an attitude with me,” he huffs out.
“No attitude.”
I have a vision of what would happen if I picked up this heavy book in front of me and chucked it at his face. I bet I could break his nose. He’d never see it coming.
“What’s the smirk for?”
I ignore his question. “So, Dad, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, I just had lunch with some of the guys.” He is referring to his friends on the alumni board. “Your name came up.”
Of course it did.
When I don’t take the bait, he continues, “They are not happy about yesterday’s game. You fucked up big time, Jax.”
“It was one loss. Losses happen, Dad. I’m not the only player on the team. We weren’t on our game yesterday.”
“No, you weren’t on your game!” His face is starting to turn red with fury.
I watch him, wondering how I am even related to such a dick.
“Losses are not acceptable,” he says.
I bring my hands to my hair. Pushing my fingers through it, I tug in frustration. Anger rises up in my chest—not because of the game, but because I’m letting my father infuriate me. I’ve gotten better at not internalizing all the shit that he constantly throws at me, but sometimes, it is a losing battle.
I pull air in through my nose, feeling my chest expand. I level a gaze at my father. “I’m doing the best I can. I don’t like losing either, believe me.”
“Something has to give, Jax. You didn’t lose to a team like that last year. It might be one loss, but one loss turns into two. Then, before you know it, you are the joke of college sports. You’re not going to make it to a bowl game at this rate! And what about the NFL? They wouldn’t give you a second look!”
Are you fucking kidding me? “Dad, it’s one loss. We’ve won the last five games. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure we win the rest of our games. You know, we lost a lot of seniors last year. We’re still trying to figure out how to work as a team. I’m not surprised we had an off day. It was bound to happen. It’s just football,