9

Kassie

Responsibilities

Draped over a chair in the student center's hallway, I double-checked campus housing in Florida and tried to ignore Zariah. Which was next to impossible. The dorm quotes for January were atrocious and my roommate wasn't one to be ignored.

She dragged her hair back to smooth against her head. "A real fake relationship ."

"You look like you're having an episode." I swatted her and went back to dream apartments.

"A real fake relationship," Zariah repeated in a revered whisper. "Do you add tongue to a fake kiss? Ah…fake tongue ."

"Your RA application's due Thursday. You told me to spray you with a water bottle if you fuck around with it."

"Kass, please . I have a constitutional right to make a big deal about this."

"Sure you do." I rolled my eyes and winced when my laptop popped up with another notification.

Zariah paused. "Did you win more contests? What's up with your computer? It's like being at the hotel desk."

If I could only ask the same thing.

With a groan, I buried myself in the other side of the chair. One mountain of NDAs, a forty-five-minute meeting—mix it all together, and my whole life was tied to a single man, Ryan Cross. It was still hard to believe. If anything, shouldn't I get a little bit longer without highlighted responsibilities?

"Emails from the PR assistant," I muttered reluctantly. "There's a couple of formal nights, alumni stuff, football games, some ceremony at the end of the semester, and I'm supposed to go to their practices."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"No, you're not." She laughed.

I grumbled under my breath. "Yes, I am."

"Are you? His practices?" she said, grabbing my laptop.

"Six in the morning."

Zariah whistled and I could hear her clicking away at my laptop. "You don't have to go to those. There's…requirements and then there's…if you show, you get a gold star kind of stuff. It's like notes for Ishisaka's class."

"You're supposed to turn those in."

"Yeah, but if I don't, I won't fail . You know?" She clicked something twice. "Memory packet?"

I slung out the hole-punched packet on everything Ryan Cross. We both filled out a long survey and Cleo had printed them out to study .

"Get this." I flipped through the pages. "His ideal breakfast? Whatever's healthy and available. Bananas are a good source of potassium, a benefit for workouts—I'm reading this off word for word, Zariah. What kind of jockhead…?" I scanned down the list. "Favorite music, workout music. But…doesn't need any? Doesn't need any music? This man is doing this to me on purpose."

She frowned over my laptop, scanning the docket. "Uniforms?"

"I'll get it later."

"You have to wear a uniform ?"

"It's university merch." I groaned. "Fifty-dollar crop tops. I'll be a walking Marrs billboard."

I took a good look at our bookstore down the hall, the place I'd worked at since week two as a freshman. Students bustled in and out of the front entrance, carrying bags crammed with overpriced crap.

Even if I worked there full-time, I didn't shop there. A fifteen percent employee discount meant nothing. The only things I could afford were mandatory scantrons. I tried explaining all that to Cleo, but she winced when I asked if free volunteer shirts would cut it at the alumni dinners.

"How do they expect you to pay for…?"

Zariah's question vanished as I produced the black card from my wallet. Ever since Cleo had cracked it out of the plastic, I'd kept the card, at most, three inches away from me. If I lost it, it'd be like losing a pint of blood.

My roommate went slack-jawed. "No way."

"I know. I've got heartburn just holding it."

"You've got this card, and we were going to study ? You've got this card, and I was going to eat leftovers from the coffee shop? "

With a grimace, I tried to shove it back into my wallet, but she had it in her hand before I could hide it. "Hey!"

"We're getting lunch."

"Zariah!"

"It's a business lunch, a business expense. The guests at my hotel say that all the time, right before ordering, like, everything off the menu," Zariah said matter-of-factly.

I had no choice but to stuff my laptop back in my backpack and hurry after her while she strode to the bookstore.

"What's on the shopping list?"

"No, Zariah, you don't understand—" I caught her shoulder and wheeled her back before anyone saw. "I work—"

"Here? Isn't that done?"

I shot a look at the mannequin displays I'd cursed over last Thursday.

Alright, I hadn't finished the list of things the athletics department had so graciously bestowed upon me, including contacting my bartending boss and Mr. White at the university bookstore. And of all days, I could see Mr. White's outline behind one of the cash registers, snapping at a trainee.

"Don't tell me you haven't quit," Zariah said.

I stole another look into the bookstore. "The problem is, the jockheads need me for some photos tonight, and—um—I'm supposed to be here for a stocking shift…"

"No two weeks' notice?"

"No two weeks' notice," I confirmed. "I'd have to do it…now."

"Then do it now."

"What if this doesn't work out? What if I'm quitting my job for nothing? "

"Kass." Zariah gave me an exasperated look. "They had you sign NDAs. Do it. But do it after we get the employee discount." She wrapped her handcuff of a hand around my wrist and dragged me inside. "You've got to buy stuff anyway. Bite the bullet! One piece of shrapnel at a time!"

As if my phone wanted to chime in, it buzzed in my back pocket. Further arguments washed away the moment I saw the name on the screen.

"If it isn't the man of the hour."

"Ryan?" Zariah peered over my shoulder.

Ball Dribbler : FRAT PARTY FRIDAY

"Uh…" Zariah burst into laughter. "Is that him? Why does he text like that?"

"I don't think he does the whole electronics thing a lot."

It'd probably gotten locked and he'd never bothered to change it. The text lasted only a moment before an address appeared too, all caps. I'd traded in two bosses for a brand new grumpy one.

"Did I tell you about his acronym thing?" I asked, still pondering if I needed to reply.

"What acronym thing?"

"His teammate, Adam, convinced Ryan that D-T-F means directing the fact. A couple of weeks later, Ryan sent it to an assistant coach." I grinned at Zariah and we ducked to the back, away from the eyes of my coworkers. "Everybody had their phones confiscated for the weekend. They were convinced he'd been hacked."

Zariah snorted. "They fuck with him?"

"No, it's more like…how younger brothers mess with older ones. Does that make sense?"

I'd seen him after the meeting, talking with some of his teammates. Maybe Adam played a joke on him, but Ryan had no problem rounding up his football players and getting them back in line. If I didn't know he was the team captain, I could've guessed it.

"He's pretty well-respected. I don't think anybody would…mess with him for real. You know?"

"Besides you," Zariah amended.

"Yeah," I chuckled, typing up a reply. "Besides me."

Kassie : Our 1st press release there???