At least not enough to make my entire college career focused on it.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully and flipped the page, asking about the people in the photos. I pointed out my sisters and brothers. Our dog, Daisy. I kept waiting for him to get bored and move on, but he went through the whole damn thing, scrutinizing every photograph and the little quotes and decorations my sister had included.
“So did you ever talk to John?” He fiddled with the edge of a photograph, muttering a shit and pressing his thumb back over it and trying to tamp it back down when it came unglued.
“Not yet.”
“What? After all that smack talk about my wingman skills, you haven’t even put the results to good use?” He closed the scrapbook and folded his arms over the top of it, staring up at me. “Did you get scared?”
“No. I just forgot.” Sorta. Why did my laugh sound like it was tinged with guilt? “But now that you’ve reminded me, I’ll do it in a minute.”
“What’re you gonna say?”
“I dunno. How’s it going?”
“And?”
“Ummm. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled and slid from the bed, taking the photo album with him and placing it back on the dresser. “I can fill you in on football draft picks and stuff if you want me to.”
I smiled. “I think I’ll be okay. I think Pittman is a bad choice for the Falcons. I’d be Newsom all the way.”
Sam’s lips parted, and he rocked back on his heels as a smile spread slowly. “Wow. I stand corrected. Wait.” He narrowed his eyes. “How long did it take you to perfect that?”
“Guess I got lucky and nailed it on the first try,” I parroted, then laughed. “Fine. I looked into it after I got back from the party that night.” While trying to distract myself from going back through and watching every single video Sam had ever made.
“Pretty impressive. All right, I’ll leave you alone now.” At the doorway he angled a look back at me. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”
Or sooner if my dreams were mean.
Once he’d gone back downstairs, I opened John’s contact info and stared at it, mentally composing different versions of a flirty message, then tossed aside the phone without sending anything.
Tomorrow I’d do it for real. I was really starting to fall behind in Operation Bang My Way Through Senior Year, after all.
5
Sam
My phone vibrated just as statistics let out, and I opened the Craigslist app, quickly skimming the message before deleting it and tucking my phone away. Another creeper, another no from me.
“Hey.” I upnodded Jesse as he passed by me toward the exit. He always sat at the front, and not that sitting with me was a requirement at all, but I kept getting the feeling he was avoiding me.
“Hey,” he replied and continued toward the door with hardly a pause.
Even in the house he seemed to go out of his way to make himself scarce when I was there lately, and I’d been racking my brain trying to figure out if I’d done something wrong. Maybe I really was a shitty wingman and he was good at holding a grudge? That didn’t seem like him, though.
I couldn’t remember ever being anything other than polite, and it seemed like a stretch that he’d still be embarrassed or something over me being in the room when he’d run in all flushed and teary three years ago. So I was well and truly stumped.
I scrambled to stuff my books in my backpack and caught up with him outside, falling in step beside him. “Do you want to study for the exam together?”
Surprise crossed Jesse’s face, and then he blinked at me dubiously. “Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
He scrunched his nose. “Actually, you probably don’t want to study with me. I bombed the pop quiz last week.”
“Oh, I did pretty well on that. So maybe you should study with me.” I grinned as surprise crossed his face for the second time. Most people assumed because I was massive, on the football team, and also in a frat, that I was an idiot. Or it might have been that I was generally a pretty happy-go-lucky dude. Mark called me a golden retriever, which was fine with me. Life was way more pleasant with a glass-half-full attitude. At least in my experience. So I didn’t sweat the small stuff. Well, except where Jesse was concerned.
“Really? You got an A?”
“I didn’t get a single question wrong.” I clucked my