the team, too. I didn’t know any of them to be homophobes, but Reid had gone to a lot of trouble after Jesse had dumped his ass to make sure everyone knew about all of his hookups with women.
I jabbed a finger in Reid’s back as we filed out of the room after the interview ended. “I thought you were seeing that blonde girl. Jenna?“
“Not really. We used to hook up, but it wasn’t serious.”
“So who’s the guy you’re dating, then?”
Reid squinted at me. “Since when have you ever been interested in anyone I’m seeing?”
A lot more than I wanted to be lately. I mimicked his casual shrug. “I’m not. Just mildly curious. Jenna seemed into you. She was at all the games last year.”
Reid tipped his head toward the reporter. “CA has been doing individual profiles highlighting LGBT athletes for some documentary they’re making.” He shrugged. “It’d be a nice extra shot of publicity.” He finger gunned me and turned away as Coach barked my name.
“Did you mind your fucking manners in there?”
I made a halo over my head. “Sure did.”
“Good. How’s the shoulder.” Coach squeezed my good one extra hard, then gave a lighter pat to my tender one. I’d come to understand that was his love language. “You need any extra PT before the scrimmage? Thought I caught you favoring the left a little earlier.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’d let me know if you needed extra attention, right? Because I need you strong this year, even if Doc has to shoot you up with cortisone before every game.”
“Yep. I’m good,” I promised, ignoring the tiny twinge in my shoulder as I tossed a distracted glance in the direction Reid had gone.
I looked for Reid in the locker room again when I grabbed my duffle, but he’d vanished.
At the house, I heaved my bag toward the stairs and followed the sound of laughter into the kitchen.
Cam sat on one of the kitchen counters while Jesse bustled around among bowls, produce, and spices carpeting multiple surfaces.
I greeted them both with a nod and darted aside when Jesse swatted at me as I grabbed a stalk of celery. Crunching down on it noisily, I leaned against the fridge, trying to guess what Jesse was cooking without having to ask. “What’s up?”
“Cam has Applebaum for Western Civ, remember?”
“And I got called up to the front today for one of his infamous on-the-spot pop quizzes.” Cam let his head droop to one side and his tongue loll out of his mouth. “I got five out of ten right.”
“Ugh,” I groaned sympathetically. “Yeah, I remember you mentioning that at the cafe.”
“Oh that’s right, you were there.”
My gaze snapped to Jesse. Had he really forgotten we’d sat across from each other for two hours and planned all kinds of sexcapades? What the hell?
The teasing smile that followed suggested he hadn’t.
I narrowed my eyes at him threateningly, then turned to Cam. “Is that your desk in the front yard?”
“Yeah. We needed more manpower to get it inside, so I left it there for later.”
The night after Hype, Mark had called a house meeting and we’d voted Cam in with Mark’s stipulation that if there was any sign he was using again he’d be kicked out and forfeit his deposit. I wasn’t much worried about that. Cam had even dropped out of Sigma because it interfered with his job and NA meetings. I hadn’t seen him within breathing distance of a bottle of alcohol or any other mind-altering substance over the entire summer.
But right then I had my eye on Cam for a different reason.
He blatantly stared at Jesse’s ass as Jesse nudged me aside and reached into the fridge, then grinned when he realized I was watching him, one shoulder hitching as if to say, can you blame me?
Jesse kicked the fridge door shut, a carton of eggs in one hand. He patted my chest with the other. “Can you move? It’s like trying to work around one of those big cement columns you see in parking garages. I’m making a frittata—because I know you’re going to ask. And no, I’m not sure there will be enough for you, because I know you’re going to ask that, also.”
Cam slid off the counter. “Can I help?”
“I can help, too,” I chimed in.
Jesse fixed us both with a dramatically dubious expression. “I’ve lived in this house for two fucking years, and the number of times someone has offered to help is one, maybe two.”