10

Kassie

Mr. Intense

While I typed up my reply, blue fabric drifted over my phone, two different plain Marrs University t-shirts that made my jaw drop when I spotted the price tag.

"Why in the world are these sixty dollars?"

"Who cares, Kass? Not your bill, not your problem." Zariah giggled.

"That's a pretty big bill."

"Plus, if you have some, I have some. We've only got a couple of months left together. It's a prime clothes-trading opportunity."

"Oh. Good point."

I hadn't even thought about that. Zariah and I swapped everything we could. I never had a lot of money growing up and that was something I was used to. Secondhand everything. Thrift store everything else. And Zariah was on a strict diet from taking her dad's money.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Ball Dribbler : YES.

I frowned. "Who texts yes with a period?"

"Intense men."

"Men with…." I struggled to come up with a joke. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe."

I hesitated over the keypad before deciding what to tell him. My fingers flew across the keys, copying his texting style.

Kassie : SHOPPING NOW.

"What about hoodies?" Zariah pressed. "Football season lasts until December. You'll need a hoodie."

Pulling down a few options, I held up the black one and the bright gray one for her inspection.

She shook her head. "We're getting both. Let me grab a basket."

"Both?" I didn't have it in me to argue though. They were nice hoodies. And I sure wouldn't be giving them back after our little song and dance.

My phone buzzed again.

Ball Dribbler : SHOW ME.

Those two words made my fingers pause over the keys. If anybody else would've sent that…or if any other insanely attractive man in my contacts list would've sent that…I pressed my lips together and scanned the letters, trying to decipher the meaning.

Those weren't butterflies in my stomach. I just hadn't eaten in a while.

"What did he say?" Zariah's words made me jump.

I pulled away from her, back towards a rack of jerseys. I had to say something. Because with those two words, Ryan Cross had effectively knocked me off my horse.

I held up my phone. "Want to watch me mess with him?"

"Huh?" I caught Zariah's attention.

Kassie : Ur not supposed to send pics like that through text

Kassie : Got to keep it safe

Kassie : Where somebody cant screenshot them

Zariah slowly shook her head. "You're playing with fire."

"You're telling me not to send this?"

"Nope. Send it."

The two of us pressed our faces together as the messages flew off to the ether. I'd never realized how damn slow that little loading bar was—it felt like forever before the delivered notice popped into view.

And there it was, those three little dots.

The three dots disappeared.

And reappeared again.

Just to disappear again.

Zariah clicked her tongue and went back to rummaging through the shelves. "Huh."

My phone buzzed a final time and I couldn't believe what I read.

"He told me to wear his jersey at the frat party. I thought Cleo told us we had to be subtle. How is that subtle?" I frowned, finally tearing myself away from the text conversation. "This is exactly what Cleo warned us against. How convenient —"

" Huh ."

"What?" I stuffed my phone in my pocket. I'd respond to the bobblehead later, I wasn't on the payroll for emojis. "What're you making that face for?"

"What face?"

"That face." I snagged the shirt out of her hands, just to see CROSS in big letters across its back. "I'm not buying this."

"I'm pretty sure he said buy his jersey." She gestured towards one of the store's displays.

There was a snapshot of Ryan, front and center. They'd blown him up way more than necessary. His muscles almost burst out of the picture.

That wasn't the end of it. There were Ryan-faced notebooks, shorts with the Four-A-Cross chant written in big, blocky letters, and, right smack in the middle, a row of those damn bobbleheads. I'd stacked them up without a care with the weekend shipment.

Rolling my eyes, I flicked one of their heads with my finger. "I'm not wearing his jersey."

"You're ignoring article three, bylaw fourteen, section…section fifteen of your fake relationship contract—"

"They didn't say anything about me wearing his jersey." Carefully, I folded it back in the proper way. "I'm not getting branded by him. If he wants me in his jersey, he'll have to ask nicely."

"Funny."

I scoffed. "He thinks he can get anything he wants by being a pushy asshole. I've got some news for him."

"What a performance ."

"A performance?"

Zariah made a noise at the back of her throat. "You two eye-fucked so hard, it was painful to witness. Sell your act to somebody else. I don't buy it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Zariah barreled on.

"You're complaining about this and I've got to clock into the coffee shop in a couple of hours… Kass . Get with the program! You've got the golden opportunity here to get your tuition back from the school and you're tossing it out because you don't like the man? Who cares ? Enjoy the fact that you've got a black card. You're transferring in January, he's skipping off to the NFL in April. What's the problem here?"

I stared at her for one long moment. "You're right."

"I know I'm right."

"You're right ."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "I know."

"You're right!" I reached for the black card and twirled it between my fingers. A grin tugged up on my lips. "So…what's the plan with this baby?"

"What're you wearing to the frat party?"

"The frat party?" I scrunched up my face. "Didn't think about it. I don't know…maybe a…a red crop top?"

"What're you going for? Sexy Winnie the Pooh?"

I snickered and gave the black card another look. What was I wearing to a frat party? I had no clue. The last frat party Zariah and I went to was freshman year to steal some toilet paper. I was out of my element. Scanning over the merchandise, I drifted over to the football jerseys again.

"Zariah?"

"Huh?"

"They want photos taken, they want front page stuff. Is that going to happen with some perfect Party City nun costume?"

"I'm going to say…no?"

"Good." My arms were completely full, but I still managed to hoist up my phone to give it a second look. Ryan hadn't sent anything else, but I was sure he'd have something to say once he saw my outfit. "If they want front page, they're getting it."

"Don't forget about your notice."

My impending confrontation with my boss completely slipped my mind. I leaned forward a little to get a direct view of the cash wrap. Mr. White snarled at one of the trainees. A tale as old as time in the bookstore. I could still remember when I'd asked him why the new hires got paid more than I did. And he said we'd discuss it next quarter.

"You're absolutely right." I smirked.