Page 28 of The Change Up
“Nothing.”
I watch as Professor Peters enters our psychology class. I’m not a big fan of the guy, I never have been, but especially not after he tried to make some creepy moves on Brynn last semester. He knows he fucked up because he never looks at our corner of the lecture hall. Maybe he knows I’ll kick his ass and turn him in. You don’t just get away with insinuating your student is a whore and will have sex with you. That’s abuse of power, and it makes me fucking sick. Not only is Brynn not a whore, but she’s not the type of girl to sleep with a professor.Yeah, it’s taboo and shit, and her moral compass is a little skewed, but she’s not that type of girl.
“You and Chloe need to work your shit out. I know something is going on between the two of you, even if you both never act like it. But now that you both are spending time together, maybe it’s time to work your issues out. Or bang the tension out?”
I roll my eyes as Peters begins the lecture. As much as I hate the prick, I need the class to graduate since psychology is my major and everything.
Two hours later, Brynn and I are walking side by side as we exit the class. I refuse to let her be alone in his presence. Is it a bit of a caveman? Yes. Do I care? Nope.
“Are you heading to the Union?” Brynn asks as she pulls her cell phone from the pocket of her leggings. “Quinton and some of the guys from the football team are there already.”
“Uhh,” I start, and I’m about to agree to it when Brynn’s previous words sink in. You and Chloe need to work your shit out. She’s right, of course she is. But how do we work it out? It feels like too much time has passed us for us to have an awkward conversation. “I’ll catch you next time.”
She pauses. “Cody?”
“I’m good, B. You’re right. I’ve got to figure out a way to work my shit out with Chloe. It’s gone on long enough.”
“What’s gone on long enough?”
I stare at her with a puzzled look on my face. How has Chloe never told Brynn about our history? I mean, I guess it makes sense. Brynn has never shown any signs she knows that Chloe and I have a rocky relationship. If she would’ve known, there’s no way she would’ve let this bullshit fester the way that it has.
Shaking my head, I ignore her question. Instead, I pull her in for a quick hug goodbye. Eyes are on both of us. I can feel them boring into my back. It’s hard to be a normal college student—for both of us.
Everyone is waiting for Brynn—or Quinton—to screw up and step out of their relationship. Which they never will. Those two are endgame, and the people who don’t believe it are blind.
I mean, I’m not looking for love in college, but if it were to fall in my lap like it has them, I wouldn’t say no.
Wait, shit, yes I would.
I’m not here for relationships. I’m here to graduate and make it to the major league. Freaking Brynn seeps love like an infectious disease, and here I am eating that shit up.
“See ya, B.”
Back at the house, it’s a quiet Tuesday evening. Hudson is at the library studying. Ty is holed up in his room working on a paper. And Niko is standing in the kitchen cooking.
“It smells good in here,” I muse, sliding my keys into my pocket and tossing my bag at the bottom of the stairs for me to take up when I make it that far.
“Cheesy rice and steak. I made enough for everyone.” Niko moves around the kitchen, slicing the steak into thin strips. Steam floats from the pan on the stove. Niko is from Southern California and embraces the Mexican culture he was surrounded by, including the amazing cuisine. Whenever he gets the urge to cook, he always fixes us the best Mexican food I’ve ever tasted—I’m talking some of the tastiest street tacos and guacamole around. I’ve watched him make the guac, and it’s rather simple to make, but it never tastes the same as when he makes it.
“Thanks, man,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”
“What’s up?”
Niko scrapes the steak from the cutting board into a hot pan. The sizzling sound fills the kitchen as the smell hits the air, and my mouth waters. “I talked to Chloe while we were at LSU.”
Immediately, my hackles are up. I remember watching the two of them have a strange, semi-heated conversation before the game had started. He doesn’t know her well, and what could the two of them possibly talk about to have him needing to have a follow-up conversation with me?
“What about?”
I watch as he moves the steak through the oiled pan. With how thin the steaks are, it shouldn’t take them long to be done. Then maybe he can turn his full attention onto the conversation we are having instead of the dramatic build-up shit.
“She told me you two have a past and that you hurt her. Want to elaborate?”
“Not particularly,” I mumble. What gives him the right to act like her protective big brother? He doesn’t even know her. Is he trying to imply that I hurt her physically? If he is, did she let him believe that shit is really going to hit the fan?
“Well, here’s how I see it.”
