Page 84 of End Game

Now I don’t know what to say.

“I leave on Thursday for U-Conn,” Barrett starts, cutting into his lasagna. “You’ll be in North Carolina, right?”

“South Carolina. Patterson University,” I explain.

“Mason’s brother went there.”

“Oh. Cool.” I’ve never met Micah, but I’ve heard plenty of stories about him. He seems like a cool dude.

“He was drafted into the NFL, so he bounced a year early, or I’d suggest you hit him up.” He makes a face. “Maybe not. He’s kind of a slut.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

“What, be a slut? Or go into the NFL?” When I nod, Barrett laughs. “That’s not in the cards for me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, I already have a job waiting for me after graduation,” he points out. “Beyond that, I’m not nearly good enough.”

“You’re not a bad football player.”

“No, I’m decent,” he acknowledges, which is an understatement. “I’m just nowhere near the level I would need to be in order to make it to the NFL. Plus I don’t want to put my body through that level of abuse. I’ve been battered and bruised enough in the last decade.”

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” I concede.

“Even if I was interested in having that fight with my parents—and I’m not—I don’t think I would be able to make it. I’m good at this level. Comfortable. At the end of the season, I’ll retire gracefully, and I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not going to miss it?”

“Oh, I am,” he assures me. “I miss it already. All good things come and go in life, and the time for football in mine is ending. I’ll still watch Newton and Patriots games. My cousin Nate’s boyfriend has season tickets to the Pats, so I’ll try to go with him. And I’ll… move on. Like you’re moving on with this dude.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing to move on from.”

“He sure seemed interested the other night.”

“Well, he wasn’t interested today, and neither was I. It’s over before it can even start,” I tell him sternly. “Neither of us are invested in it. It’s best that it ends now, before either of us get attached.”

“So I need to find you another guy?” Barrett says, with a funny look on his face like he doesn’t like that idea.

“I don’t need a boyfriend. I just want to get laid.”

He turns away, an expression on his face like he’s sucked on a slice of lime after a too quick tequila shot. “You sure you don’t want a boyfriend?”

“I said need, you say want. Do I want one? Yeah, kind of,” I admit. “But I’m not in the right headspace for a real relationship, so I’m fine with a fling or a one night sort of thing. Ideally I’d find some guy who was interested in a friends-with-benefits type of situation.”

I don’t know how much more I can put myself on the line. It’s practically glowing and neon, begging him to fuck me.

Instead, Barrett coughs and shoves an enormous piece of lasagna into his mouth. I guess he’s not volunteering for the job. Damn. I almost thought he’d be interested in it, the way he’s been all over me and kissing me the last few weeks.

“What? Am I supposed to pretend I don’t like sex?”

His cheeks go pink.

“Barrett, I’m twenty-two years old. I’ve had sex before. I like sex.”

“Stop saying sex,” he hisses.

“I didn’t take you for a prude.”