weren’t in his favor. Some years went by when no kickers were drafted. It was tricky because kicker positions didn’t open up as frequently as more common ones, like linebackers. Though, if he didn’t get drafted, he would most likely be able to make it somewhere as an undrafted free agent.
“Hopefully.” I didn’t want to talk about the draft, then or ever, really. Maybe that made me an asshole friend, but maybe it would have been easier if my choice hadn’t been snatched from me by my own flesh and blood. Once upon a time, I’d wanted to go pro more than anything in the world. But that wasn’t in the cards for me, so I’d accepted that I was moving on to coaching much sooner than I’d originally planned.
I needed to focus on my own future, which was why I’d been working on my résumé for the past hour. Getting my foot in the door with a college coaching staff was turning out to be more difficult than I expected.
“Fuck,” I muttered. My résumé looked like hell. It hadn’t started out that way, but every time I tweaked it to fit a specific job, it turned into more and more of a Frankenstein monster. I was a decently smart guy—after all, I was graduating from VVU—but I’d never even applied to so much as a minimum-wage job.
Connor looked over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Working on my résumé.” I sighed. “More like fucking it up.”
“Can’t you hire someone to do that for you?”
“I have no idea.” The thought had never occurred to me. I came from a blue-collar family. If something broke, we fixed it ourselves. If something needed doing, we did it ourselves. Connor grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, so his answer for everything was to hire someone. But maybe in my case, he had the right idea. I needed to call in an expert, or at least someone who knew far more than I did.
I texted Layla: Hey, are you busy?
She replied quickly: Why? What’s up?
I grinned as I replied. Since you’re my girlfriend and all, I was hoping you could help me with my résumé.
Layla’s confession about the lie she’d told her stepmother about me had thrown me for a loop. I’d always thought Layla awesome, gorgeous, and fun to be around. I also admired how driven she was. Not many college students started a business and turned it into a full-time paying gig. But she’d relegated me to the friend zone almost as soon as we’d met. A lesser man would have taken it as a blow to his ego, but I’d gone with the flow. Three and a half years later, we were still friends, while I couldn’t recall the names of half the girls I’d dated freshman year. Maybe Layla had known what she was doing, after all.
In any event, since I’d digested the idea of being Layla’s fake boyfriend, I was going to have fun with it.
Come on over.
I stared at her response. I’d been expecting a snarky retort, so I wasn’t sure what to make of her neutral reply. Damn. Since I was asking for a favor, it probably wasn’t the best time to pour salt in her wound. The wedding situation was really getting to her, though I still hadn’t quite figured out why it was causing her such angst. But since I was her date, I guessed I’d find out eventually.
For the time being, though, I needed to get my ass over to her place before she wised up and decided she had better things to do with her time than help me.
***
Layla
JUSTIN SHOWED UP an hour after he’d texted, just as Kaycee was about to leave for work. I’d managed to get dressed by then, meaning I’d exchanged my pajama pants for yoga pants. Admittedly, it wasn’t a huge improvement, but at least yoga pants were meant for public viewing.
“Wait,” Justin said to Kaycee just as she flung open the front door. He opened the flat box he was holding, and the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted out. “Take one for the road.”
Kaycee took the offered napkin and wrapped it around a sticky bun. “You know I’ll never say no to one of these. Thanks.” Then she rushed out the door.
I perked up from my position on the couch, stretching to try to see inside the box. “Did you get a chocolate one?”
Justin’s mouth cocked into a half smile. “What do you think?”
I