30. Jacob

Chapter 30

Jacob

T he weekend was amazing. Matthew moved in, Dylan's dinner went well, we hung out and most importantly, we were all together under one roof. We have class today but get a break mid-morning until after lunch. It's a beautiful day, so Dylan, Ford, and I are meeting out in the courtyard to hang out. Dylan already scoped out the perfect tree for us to have a picnic under. She got out of class before us so she went ahead and set up, not wanting to lose the prime spot she found.

When I step out of my class, Ford's leaning against the wall, phone in hand as his fingers fly across the screen.

"Hey, man, I feel so special being escorted by you. The Ford Nickels, third best lacrosse player at CSU." I put my hand over my heart and bat my eyes like the stick bunnies do. But Ford doesn't smile. Instead, his lips are clenched in a tight line and his brows are furrowed.

Something's wrong.

I know, without having to ask, it has to do with Dylan.

He pushes off the wall and slides his phone into his pocket. "I'm sick of stupidity," he snarls, confirming my thoughts.

"What now?" I already know the answer, but the old saying races through my head and I want to have verbal confirmation of my assumption before making an ass of myself.

"Some of the players are still giving Dylan a hard time. Snickering and making comments about how her pussy must be gold-plated to con a coach into giving her a position on the team. It seems like they're totally blind to her skills." He grips the strap of his book bag, pulling it back up on his shoulder.

"It'll calm down. The more we ignore it, the less it will happen. All they want is to rile her up, make her want to quit. But our girl is too strong for that. She's a fighter."

As we step out of the building into the common area, I see a few of the guys from the team standing around the tree we picked. I can't see past them, but I bet Pickle is standing toe to toe with them.

We can't hear them from the distance we're at, so we move swiftly across the field. Ford pulls out his phone and turns on the camera. Guess he wants some proof of the abuse she's getting from the team just in case we need it. Smart, and I'm a little pissed at myself for not thinking of it.

"Come on, girl. Let us have a taste. We'll even make it easy for you on the team," one of the players says. I can't make out who it is from the back since he's wearing a hat. But if I have to take a guess, it's one of the reserve players, Patrick. He's a fucking cunt.

"Sorry, but you wouldn't know what to do with me. I can't help that your skills are subpar. Maybe if you spent more time practicing than trying to harass me, you'd actually see some game time in the future." That's my girl, standing up for herself.

We're behind them now; none of them have noticed our arrival, not even Dylan.

"More like, if you sleep with the coach, he'll give you anything you want. What gets me is why Coach Woosley is letting this new washed-up hack run the show. He's smarter than that. Never thought I'd see the day he let a girl lead him astray. He's going to be the laughing stock." Patrick opens his mouth again and the two first string players, Alex and Lance, nod their heads in agreement. I thought they were better than that; guess I was wrong. They're the type who voice their opinions behind the backs of others they think are stronger than them. Two-faced bitches are what they are.

"Seems the five of you have a lot to say. But why not voice it directly to Coach during one of our practices? Instead, you want to corner Dylan when she's alone, or better yet, gossip in groups like a bunch of kids." All five of them turn when they hear my voice, and I catch a glimpse of my girl finally as she peeks between their bodies. Ford takes that opportunity to push through them, and wraps his arms around her, crashing his lips to hers.

"This is your final warning. Keep harassing my girlfriend, you're going to have to deal with me." I step up closer into Patrick's personal space, daring him to do something. My hand curls into a fist as it hangs at my side, itching to punch this fucker in the face.

"Looks to me like she's dating Ford." The idiot Patrick glances over his shoulder, looking at my two best friends kissing, before turning back to me and smirking.

My eyes linger on Ford and Dylan a little longer than they should, reveling in how hot she looks. I love that my best friend can make her so happy and forget what was happening just moments before.

"She is my girl, and his. Got a problem with it?" I give him a moment, but he doesn't say anything. "Didn't think so. Seems like you only have power when you're trying to fuck with a woman. Get the fuck out of my face and away from our girl." I shove past them, knowing if I stay there, I'll punch him in the fucking face. I need Dylan in my arms right now. This violent, angry person isn't who I want to be. I can't wait for practice and the chance to face him head on.

Patrick's friends pull him away and I can hear them running their mouths as they go, pissing me off more.

"Ignore them. They're just idiots. You need to stay calm and not let them get to you." She pulls out of Ford's arms and takes one of each of our hands in hers, pulling us down on the blanket. "Both of you need to keep your cool, because you don't need to get kicked off the team."

"We just don't like how they talk to you. What they're implying about not only Matthew, but Coach Woosley. Wonder what he would think if he heard what they said," Ford grumbles.

"I just think you're hangry. Here, let's eat." She opens the bag of sandwiches she got from the sub shop just outside the student union.

I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Matthew and tell him what just happened and that Ford will be sending a video.

"Thank you." Ford takes the sandwich from her hand and unwraps it, taking a bite.

"I'm more worried about Matthew than anything else. He's their coach and the way they're speaking about him hurts me. I don't want this position to be taken from him because of me. If he can't control his team, then the school and Coach Woosley may rethink hiring him."

My phone vibrates, and I look down at it.

Matthew: Thank you. And let Dylan know not to worry. I'll handle this. Practice today should be fun.

"I wouldn't worry about Matthew. I don't think we're giving him enough credit and he may already have a plan for this situation." Ford quirks his head, raising his eyebrow, and I give him a wink. He smiles and I know he's picking up on what I'm saying.

"Jacob's right. We don't have long before the two of you have to head to class. Let's eat and forget about everyone but us."

Dylan

I'm halfway through my afternoon lecture, laptop open but barely anything typed, when my phone buzzes in my lap. I sneak a glance under the desk, hoping the professor doesn't notice. It's a text from Matthew.

Matthew: Babe, me and Woosley chatted, and you're off tonight. We have some things to address, and we don't need you being a target. Enjoy your night off. I'll give you a workout when I get home.

A smile tugs at my lips, and before I can stop it, a little heat curls low in my belly. My panties dampen at the thought of "working out" with Matthew. I quickly bite my lip to suppress the grin spreading across my face.

Me: Promises, promises.

I hit send, imagining the smirk that's probably sitting on his face as he reads my message.

"I'll now let you work on your notes for the remainder of class. We will have a test at the end of next week," the professor drones, and I'm thankful we're done hearing his monotone lecture for the day.

"You look way too happy for someone stuck in this boring class," a voice next to me teases.

I turn my head to see a girl sliding into the seat beside mine. She looks familiar—maybe from another class—but I've never spoken to her before. Her bright red hair is tied into a high ponytail, and she's wearing a hoodie with the school's logo and a pair of black leggings. There's something relaxed and easy about her, like she doesn't take herself too seriously.

"Am I that obvious?" I ask, setting my phone down on my notebook.

She grins. "Little bit. I'm Avery, by the way."

"Dylan," I reply, offering a small smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, what's got you all smiley over there? Boyfriend texting you or something?" she asks, leaning on her elbow with a curious glint in her eye.

I hesitate for a second before answering, "Something like that."

She laughs softly. "Say no more. Trust me, I get it." She tugs out her phone and taps at the screen. "This class is so dull—how are you even staying awake?"

"I'm not," I admit with a chuckle. "It's a struggle every day."

Avery pretends to groan dramatically. A few people glance our way, but she doesn't seem to care.

"So, Dylan, since this class sucks... What are you doing after?" Avery asks, nudging me with her shoulder.

I blink, caught off guard by how casually she asks, like we've been friends forever.

"Uh, no real plans. I was supposed to have lacrosse practice, but I got the night off. So just heading home, I guess."

Avery's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh shit, you're the girl on the lacrosse team! I've heard about you."

I roll my eyes, already bracing for the worst. "And I'm sure it's all bad things."

Avery grins wickedly. "Is having a gold-plated pussy with sprinkle-tasting cum a bad thing? Then yeah, all bad things."

I laugh, harder than I've laughed all day. This girl is ridiculous—and I love it.

"So what do you say?" Avery continues, her grin turning mischievous. "Come grab dinner with me. Maybe a drink or two? I promise I don't bite... unless you're into that." She winks.

It's weird how easy it feels—like I've known her longer than the five minutes we've been talking. And honestly, it sounds nice. I haven't really made any female friends since I transferred from my old high school, and it's always been easier to hang with the guys. But there's something about Avery—maybe it's the way she seems so unapologetically herself—that makes me want to say yes.

"You know what? Dinner sounds good," I say.

Her grin widens. "Atta girl."

I take out my phone and shoot a quick text to the group chat with the guys.

Me: Not heading home right after class. Going to grab dinner and drinks with a girl from class. Don't wait up.

A second later, Jacob replies.

Jacob: Everything good?

Me: Yeah, all good. Just making a new friend.

Ford's message follows:

Ford: Bout time you had a girlfriend. Have fun, Kitty. You deserve it.

The class finally ends, and as we gather our things, Avery turns to me. "Let's hit this place I know downtown. It's got killer tacos and margaritas."

I raise an eyebrow. "Say less. I'm in."

We step out into the cool afternoon air, and Avery links her arm through mine like we've been friends forever. It feels... nice. I'm not used to this—having another girl in my life who's not judging me or trying to compete. I didn't realize how much I've missed this kind of friendship until now.

The taco place is tucked into a lively corner downtown, lights strung above the patio, giving it a warm glow. The buzz of conversation and clinking glasses surrounds us as we find a table near the back.

Avery wastes no time flagging down the waiter. "We'll start with chips and guac, two orders of the shrimp tacos, and... two margaritas," she says, glancing at me for confirmation.

I nod, and the waiter jots it all down before leaving.

"I can't believe he didn't ID us," I say once he's out of earshot.

"Nah. I've been here a few times, and he knows I tip well; you can say we have an agreement. So," Avery says, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me about yourself, Dylan. What's your deal?"

I smile, but it's one of those loaded questions that I never quite know how to answer. "Well... I'm a freshman. I play lacrosse."

Her eyes light up. "My brother used to play in high school. What position?"

"Midfield."

She whistles low. "You're hardcore."

I shrug, feeling a little shy under the compliment. "It's just... something I've always loved, you know?"

Avery smiles, something like understanding flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, I get that."

Our food arrives, and we dig in, falling into easy conversation. We talk about classes, teammates, life on campus—everything and nothing at the same time.

"So... about this boyfriend," Avery teases between bites of her taco, eyeing me with curiosity. "What's he like?"

I swallow and then, deciding to just go for it, blurt out, "Well, I actually have three boyfriends."

Avery freezes mid-sip, her eyes wide. "Shut the fuck up. Do they know about each other?"

I cackle, loving her reaction. "Yeah, they know. We all live together."

She sets her glass down slowly, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Okay, now the sprinkle-cum thing is starting to add up. Tell me everything. "

I laugh, clinking my glass with hers, enjoying the rare chance to talk about them openly. "Jacob was my childhood best friend. He moved away, and we lost touch for a while, but we ran into each other last year when I switched high schools. Ford's on the lacrosse team too—I met him last year. Jacob and him are best friends."

Avery narrows her eyes with a playful smirk. "And the third?"

"Matthew..." I trail off, feeling my cheeks warm. "He's my mom's fiancé's son."

Her jaw drops. "Your almost stepbrother?! " She clutches her chest dramatically. "You filthy bitch. I love it."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, it was... complicated at first, but now it's good. He's the assistant coach for the team—he just graduated last year. And he just moved in with us off-campus."

By the time we finish our meal and order a shared plate of churros, I feel lighter than I have in days.

"You know," I say, taking a sip of my margarita, "I didn't think I'd make any friends here. Not ones like this, at least."

Avery smiles warmly. "Well, I'm glad you did. I think you're stuck with me now."

I laugh, feeling genuinely happy. "Good. I could use someone like you around."

She grins. "Right back at you, Dylan."

We polish off our drinks, both of us too full to move right away, and I lean back in my chair with a content sigh.

"So, what do you say? Same time next week?" Avery asks, nudging my foot under the table.

I smile. "Deal."

As we gather our things and prepare to head out, I check my phone one more time.

Matthew: Don't forget. Workout when I get home.

A thrill runs down my spine, and my lips curl into a grin as I type back:

Me: You'd better not keep me waiting.

Avery catches the mischievous look on my face. "Which one is that?"

"Matthew."

"Girl, you've got it bad," she teases, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

I laugh. "You have no idea."