Page 25 of The Comeback Pact

“Clearly,you’re changing your mind about football players,” Sydney states with a laugh.

I give her a look.Thelook. Even though, deep down inside, I know she’s right. Framed by the forest, she stares back at me as if challenging me to deny it. If I’d known she was going to tease me about West again, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on a walk with her.

The Loop Trail circles the entire campus, starting and ending at the main entrance to the university. We’ve only just started and I’m already thinking about nopeing out of this.

“You’ve been training with him for two weeks now. We eat breakfast withthemevery morning.” Her thought lingers in the air with no follow-up. She’s trying to drive the point home, as if I don’t already see it.

My stomach churns as I think about the last couple of weeks. We did start eating with them after training, and I don’t know how to feel about it. It made sense at first so West could look at what I was eating, but…we just didn’t stop. It’s our pattern now. It’s expected. Of course, it doesn’t help that Sydney sits there waiting with the rest of the team, even when West and I are late getting out of training.

When I don’t say anything, she continues, “You should see the way he looks at you. Girl,” she breathes almost excitedly. She’s got a bounce in her step, and suddenly, I feel like I’m in an intervention where everyone attending is looking out for my best interests.

My skin tingles when I think of him.

West Brooks…

I can’t deny that there’s something there. An attraction at the very least. But then my mind hits a brick wall, slamming down from out of nowhere. “He never talks,” I point out.

“Who needs him to talk?” she says with clenched fists. I’m not sure what she’s doing with her hands exactly, but she’s talking animatedly. “He goes with you to Jump Zone. He’s signed out the weight room for you guys every morning, and you told me he showed up at your dive practice.”

“He only stayed a few minutes,” I remind her. My mind is telling me to deny, deny, deny.

“Because he had to get to his own practice,” she insists. “Damn. I’ve dated guys for six months who never did that much for me.”

“Yeah, he’s really trying to get me to his practice,” I state, but it feels hollow. I’m not exactly sure what West is doing, but he hasn’t mentioned our pact since we started training together. In fact, we haven’t talked about him much at all. It’s always about me, training, and diving. Even then, there’s notmuchtalking. Maybe a “one more rep” or “how does that weight feel?”, but his training notes are so good that there’s really no reason to discuss things.

Sydney huffs. “I’m trying to decide if you’re being intentionally blind, or if your hatred for the team runs so deep that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you.”

I look straight ahead, peering at the spot where the concrete trail curves toward the trees. After sitting with the team at breakfast and watching them interact, it’s hard to make them fit into the box I’d labeled for them. Yeah, they’re horndogs, but what college guys aren’t? The truth is, they talk about football like I talk about diving. They’re competitors who love the sport, and the only time West really gets animated is when he’s talking about the game, even if it is only in three-word sentences. It’s as if a light ignites inside him.

“Both,” I eventually tell her. Being obtuse seems like the smart path to take right now. I’ve felt West stare at me. I’ve even seen him check me out, most notably that first day at breakfast when he was staring at my breasts and I had to turn away because my nipples were turning into traitorous pebbles.

Worse yet, I can feel my reaction to him all the time. I like it when he looks at me…and that feels like a problem.

“I just don’t see West Brooks being a bad guy,” Sydney remarks.

“Well, his mouth won’t ever get him in trouble, that’s for sure.”

She snickers and elbows me in the side. “That means it can be put to better use.”

I cackle. “We’ve been sitting at their table for too long. You’re starting to sound like that one senior.”

“Cade Farmer,” she sighs, her voice taking on a dream-like quality. “Freaking hottie. Of course, they all are.”

“Cade? Really? I thought you were into Aidan?”

She shrugs like it doesn’t matter, then she’s quiet a while as we walk. The sun is setting, and the sky has a pink haze to it on the horizon. It’s super pretty, and I’m about to point it out to Sydney when a harsh whistle cuts through the air.

Turning toward the sound, I stop in my tracks. We’ve wandered toward the practice field, and the football team is currently lined up. Fuck. Why is it that all roads lead to Warner football lately? It’s like a bad penny.

“Oh shit,” Sydney says as she stops next to me. “I didn’t know they’d be practicing out here. Of course, the first game is in a couple of days, so it makes sense.”

We literally can’t go anywhere on campus without the start of the football season being thrown in our faces. It’s spirit week, and the halls of every building on campus are decked out in royal blue and white. Streamers and banners and life-size posters of the starting lineup. In West’s, he’s holding his helmet in his hands, straight in front of his midsection, his knuckles white as he glares into the camera lens. Two black stripes under his eyes complete the look, and even thinking about it gives me chills. He’s a complete badass.

Despite his size, he doesn’t give off that vibe in real life. He’s kind of like a mute teddy bear. I have a feeling if he ever did get heated, he’d turn those wild eyes on his target, though. Lord help the other person if he did.

Giggles sound, and my stare moves up to the metal fence. A few girls stand there to watch practice, clinging to the chain-link. Coach blows the whistle again, and I can just see where the lined-up players connect in a cacophony of pads hitting pads and helmets hitting helmets. The girls gasp, then fawn over them.

“He really is the Hulk.” A petite blonde-headed girl turns toward her friend. “Don’t you think?”

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