Page 51 of Blitz

“The more, the merrier,” Amir says, looking her over with blatant interest.

Fred sets her tray down in the seat directly opposite him. The better to bat her eyelashes at him, no doubt.

“How was your study session?” Tucker asks as we take our seats.

“It was… productive. I talked to Micah on the way back. He said he talked to you.”

His cheeks go pink. “Yeah. It was—yeah.”

“It went well?”

“I think so?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I talked to my moms. They say hi.”

“Tell them hi back.”

“I will.”

I take a bite of my lunch. The noodles are greasy and oily and so, so good. The potstickers are steamed, which makes them health food. Right?

Tucker’s working on a plate of cucumber salad and has a side dish of edamame. I would have thought he got his fill last night. There’s no sight of a peanut butter sandwich anywhere, which I guess is a success.

“Do you have anything planned for the rest of your day?”

“We’re going to take a pilates class at four.”

“We are?” Fred asks. I raise my eyebrows at her. “Right. Yeah. We are.”

“Pilates is a tough workout,” Barrett says. I look him over. I never thought he would be the type of guy who did pilates. “My best friend makes me go to classes with her sometimes. It’s intense.”

“I like it. Low impact. It’s a good recovery workout.”

“Maybe I should try it,” Tucker says slowly. “I like the idea of low impact.”

“We can all go after our lift,” Barrett says.

Oh, no. That was not the goal. I don’t want to take a cadre of football players to class with me.

But I can’t tell them not to come, not without making this into a big thing. They’re free to join any workout class the ASC offers. I don’t want to fight with Tucker. So if he wants to join us, if he wants to put himself through an hour of torture at the hands of the pilates instructor, I can’t stop him.

“Sounds like a plan,” Amir says. He and Fred make doe eyes at one another.

Wes grunts and turns a page in his book. I think that means he agrees.

We make small talk through lunch. The weather is nice. The dining hall has surprisingly decent food. The guys miss having a football game every week, but they enjoyed going to the track meet yesterday; they’ll have to come to a few more.

It’s… pleasant. Tucker finishes his meal and sets his hand on my leg. His touch sends a warmth that spreads through me from the inside out. It’s not sexual and it’s not possessive: it simply is.

He drops a kiss to the top of my head and stands to clear both of our trays.

“He’s cute,” Fred says in a stage whisper.

Barrett laughs. Amir gives me a knowing glance.

“Yeah, he is.” I watch his ass as he moves through the crowd of people at the tray return. He has a good butt. His shoulders are strong, his arms like cannons. He is a glorious amalgamation of muscle and strength.

Fred clears her throat. “So, yoga? We’ll see you later for pilates?”

Barrett grins. “Sounds good.”