Page 5 of Rookie Moves
Enjoying our success, like Colby should be doing.
There’s a possessive flame that ignites inside me every time I see that flicker of fear in his eyes. A need to shield him from the vultures and let him just be Colby. I know it’s not my job to look out for him. It’s not something anyone’s asked me to do, and I know it’s only going to get worse when he’s drafted.
Who is going to step in and protect him then?
I don’t know why the thought unsettles me more than it should.
When we get back to campus, we help unload the bus and carry everything inside. We might have the luxury that comes with being a Division I school, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pull our weight.
“I expect to see everyone show their faces at this party tonight,” Liam orders after we’ve finished unloading the bus. He waves his finger around the locker room until he lands on Colby. “That includes you, superstar. Don’t make me drag you out by your ankles.”
Colby snickers quietly, ducking his chin behind the collar of his coat.
“And I expect you to be fresh-faced and on my ice at 10:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow morning. If any of you are remotely hungover, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,” Coach warns, though there’s a small smile on his face.
Liam salutes, and we disperse out of the facility. Colby is almost out of the door by the time I catch up to him.
“Want me to swing by your place and walk with you?” I ask, not wanting to look too deeply into why I’m hoping he’ll say yes.
You don’t need to look after him at a party.
I mentally swat the voice away.
Maybe I don’t, but there’s something in my gut telling me I need to. Especially tonight after those two reporters jumped him.
Colby turns, surprise flickering across his face. “Um. Yeah, okay.”
I flash him a grin and let him know I’ll text him when I’m outside, then make the ten-minute walk back to the house I share with five other guys. I take the stairs two at a time, accepting hellos and congratulatory cheers from my housemates. Inside my room, I quickly change into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, before finally swapping my beanie for a ball cap.
“Congrats, Becksy! Killer game tonight.” Batesy gives me a fist bump when I enter the kitchen.
“Thanks, it was a good game,” I say with a grin.
Peeking my head into the fridge, I scrunch up my nose at the almost empty shelves, my stomach grumbling in protest. Out of the five guys who live here, four of us are athletes, including Batesy, and yet we are shit at keeping track of food in the house because we mostly eat at our designated facilities or order takeout.
“Damn, we need to go food shopping,” I say to Batesy and turn around to wave the last protein yogurt. “This is the last one. Eric is gonna have us eating those weird zucchini chips again if we’re not careful.”
Batesy snorts and pulls out his phone. “I’ll make a list and head out after class in the morning.”
“You coming to the party tonight?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got an early class, so I’m trying to be sensible.”
I arch a brow. “You? Sensible? Is there such thing?”
Grinning, he flips me off. “Fuck off.”
After demolishing the yogurt and handing some cash over to Batesy to pay for groceries, I head back into the cold night air. The walk to Colby’s building takes me about fifteen minutes, and once I’m outside, I fire off a text, letting him know I’m here.
He appears moments later. My breath escapes me in a relieved exhale when I notice the tension has eased from his shoulders, and the smile he flashes my way causes the base of my spine to tingle.
He’s so fucking handsome it hurts. Like the baby-making gods put every beauty gene they had in their arsenal into Colby’s DNA.
Not that I’ve noticed. Of course not.
You shouldn’t notice these things about your teammates.
We walk in a comfortable silence to the frat house that’s hosting tonight’s party. There are bodies writhing on the makeshift dance floor in the living room. The thumping bass rattles the walls, and we’re greeted by backslaps and high fives for bringing the conference title back to Whilton U for another year.
