Page 13 of Love at Second Down

She blinks up at me, her violet gaze round with surprise. “Are you okay?” She stretches onto her toes and presses a hand against my forehead while I lean into her, trying to make it seem like an intimate caress rather than a clinical exam for fever. “You’re acting weird,” she adds with a frown.

I huff out a laugh, feigning ignorance. “Of course I’m feeling okay. What do you mean?”

Charlotte and Brynn exchange a look before Brynn says, “It’s just . . . you’re not usually so happy to see us.”

I snort in derision. “What? That’s absurd.”

Charlotte’s dark brows rise. “I mean, you’re okay around Liz, Samantha, Tatum, and the single girls, but us?” She motions between them. “You’re not exactly . . . How can I say this?”

“Overly friendly with your teammates’ girlfriends,” Brynn finishes for her.

I frown, feeling kind of like a dick. “Am I really that bad?”

When they say nothing, I scratch the back of my head. A glance in the giant coffee shop windows tells me Avery is watching.

I clear my throat, shifting on my feet. “I’m notunfriendly,” I say slowly, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m just—selective with my social energy.”

Charlotte lets out a short laugh. “Selective? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

I shrug, throwing them a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I’ve been a little standoffish. But in my defense, you guys are usually all cuddled up with my teammates. I figured I’d give you space.” I pause, then smirk slightly. “You know, for the sake of teammorale,” I say, like it’s the real reason I think my friends are nuts for being in committed relationships.

“Right.” Charlotte tucks a dark lock of hair behind her ear.

“Well, anyway,” I say, feeling like an asshole, “I guess I’ll see you ladies later?”

“Yeah, sure?” Charlotte yelps in surprise when I lean down and lift her off her feet in a one-armed bear hug, then do the same with Brynn, lingering a little longer than necessary in my bid to what? Make Avery jealous? Prove to her I’ve moved on? Give her the impression I might be dating one of these girls?

When I place them back on their feet, I take a step back, offering them a final wave and resisting the urge to look behind me in the giant café windows one last time. It’s not until I’m back on campus that I take a sip of my vanilla latte and grimace. It’s so sweet I can hardly choke it down, and when I find the nearest trash can, I chuck it inside from five feet away. It’s a perfect spiral that lands with athunkin the empty bin.

That’s what I get for letting my pride get in the way of good coffee.

Now I have to go the rest of the day without my caffeine fix.

“Fifty thousand students,” I mutter to myself with the shake of my head. Fifty thousand students and I see Avery not once, but twice, in the first two days since the semester started.

Fuck my life.

Chapter 5

AVERY

My hands shake as I hand the next customer in line their coffee, trying my best not to stare as Damon pulls the two beautiful women standing outside on the sidewalk into a hug before disappearing down the street.

Of course he has women interested in him. I’m not a fool. Even after all the years I’ve known him, as well as my time spent at Harvard with Ivy Leaguers, Damon is easily the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. With thick, dark hair, piercing emerald eyes, and a bone structure any Hollywood actor would kill for, he’s breathtaking on a bad day. Pair his looks with his talent and the muscle he’s clearly gained since high school, and I can’t imagine there’s a female in sight who wouldn’t want a shot with him.

But a girlfriend? A girlfriend I hadn’t bargained for.

I’ve followed Damon’s college football career closely, spent countless hours scouring the internet for updates. I’ve read every article, any little morsel of information I could find on the emerging quarterback. I’ve stalked his social media, staring at image after image of him, noting the slightest of changes in his appearance, with my heart aching over how much I missed him. How much I wanted to erase the last two and a half years, rewinding to a time when we were happy and in love. To a time when I wasn’t forced to choose my family over him, because if I could go back, I’d choose differently. I’d take the risk, even if it wasn’t mine to take.

But never in the years that I’ve followed him have I heard even the slightest whisper of Damon Huhn having a girlfriend. There were photos with friends and teammates, even a few with his father, but never any with a girl beneath his arm, and when questioned about his love life in interviews, his response was always the same:Next question.

So, maybe I was naive to think he never moved on. Maybe I’m positively certifiable for taking the absence of a girl in the stands as proof he still holds a torch for me. But call me crazy, because here I am more than two years later, starting over again at a new college because I can’t imagine the next two days, let alone the next two years, without him.

The bell on the door chimes, and I know who it is without looking. Still, I look anyway, trying not to stare at the two beautiful women Damon had been talking to outside as they take their place at the back of the line. They’re talking animatedly to each other, completely oblivious to my perusal as they inch their way closer. One is petite with dark hair, equally dark eyes, and rosy cheeks, while the other is blonde with a piercing gaze and shapely figure most girls would kill for.

I busy myself behind the counter, restocking the cream and milk in the carafes while my coworker, Cara, waits on the nextcustomer in line. If my ears just so happen to perk as the women approach, and I accidentally overhear their conversation . . . well, that’s just a coincidence.

“God, they better win this weekend,” the brunette grumbles.

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