Page 82 of The Jack*ss in Class

The hotel suite Dad booked was littered with the detritus of combine prep, protein shake bottles, printed workout schedules, and recovery gear strewn across every surface. Gryff sprawled on one of the beds, scrolling through his phone, while I iced my shoulder.

“The Bandits scout was watching you like a hawk today,” Dad said as he entered from the adjoining room, tablet in hand.

“I spotted Denver’s guy,” I pointed out, “making notes the whole time.”

“The Sharks and the Presidents too. Because they all want you. Both of you.” Dad sat on the edge of the other bed. “Got calls from a lot of teams today. They’re wanting to set up private workouts and meetings.”

Gryff sat up, suddenly alert. “They want both of us? Together?”

“There’re a few who are looking to slot you individually into their rosters,” Dad confirmed. “But Bandits specifically want you both. Their defensive coordinator apparently has this whole vision for deploying you two as a package deal.”

A package deal. The possibility of continuing to play alongside my twin had always seemed like a pipe dream given the draft system, but hearing it might actually happen sent a surge of excitement through me.

Denver would mean staying close to home, to family, to our support system.

To Tempest.

The thought caught me off guard. We’d shared one kiss. Admittedly, an incredible kiss, but that shouldn’t be enough to influence where I played pro ball.

And yet.

“LA wants to fly you out next week,” Dad continued, oblivious to my internal debate. “Tours, meetings with coaches, the works. The other teams are going to work around your classes.”

“Spring break,” Gryff noted. “Perfect timing for a trip to the beach.”

Would Tempest be staying in Denver or heading to some senior year bacchanalia with her sorority sisters? Damn. I wish I’d made plans with her before I left. Not that I’d get to keep them if I was headed to LA.

“Hit the showers. Got dinner with the agents in thirty.”

Dad went back to his room, and Gryff threw a pillow at me. “Dude. You were a million miles away just now.”

I didn’t bother denying it. Gryff knew. Twin telepathy was strong in us.

“It’s okay to admit it, you know.” Gryff’s tone softened. “That she matters.”

“She shouldn’t though, should she?”

“That’s bullshit. Unless this isn’t a serious thing. Do not fucking tell me Tempest is just another two-week special. Because I will fucking... I don’t know, make Artie sit on you while I fart in your face.”

Gryff’s chastisement hit harder than it should have. I’d been breaking my own rules since the moment I met Tempest. My two-week limit had flown by weeks ago, and instead of losing interest, I thought about her more, not less.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s... different. She’s different. I…like her. A lot.”

My phone buzzed from the nightstand. I reached for it, unsurprised to see Tempest’s name on the screen.

Tempest: The Donkey Sitters Club sends their congratulations on today’s performance. Apparently your vertical jump was, and I quote, “absolutely divine.”

I smiled, fingers already typing a response.

Me: I’m more interested in what you thought.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.

Tempest: It was pretty amazing to see you in your element like that. And...*blush* kind of hot. I’m a bit mad I never went to football games now.

Me: I can give you your own personal football game when I get back.

She didn’t take the bait. Because she was never charmed by any flirting I ever did with her. I needed to step up my game.

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