4. Drew

CHAPTER 4

DREW

Drew hadn't wanted to leave. If he hadn't had an important lecture to get to, he would have bailed. He hadn't told Mac his real worry, either. Drew had to find a place that would take him on as an intern before the new semester started. Failure to do so would put him behind his classmates. Austin's minor league baseball team, the Rock Round Express, had been his first choice, but they didn't have a spot for him. Nor did any of the numerous local colleges or universities within a thirty-minute drive of the city.

If Lee could score him a spot—even an interview would be a blessing—with the Troopers' medical team, he'd drop to his knees and blow the guy in a heartbeat. Don't be ridiculous, Drew, you'd drop and suck his dick with or without the job.

He hopped in his car and headed southeast toward the University of St. Augustine. Admittance to their physical therapy program had been a tough process, but their graduates were sought after by all the local hospitals and rehab facilities. His preference to specialize in sports injuries annoyed several of his professors, but he loved sports. Just not football. The number of concussions alone freaked him out. Not a weekend went by that he didn't hear of at least a half-dozen players getting carted off the field and being put through their concussion protocol.

Drew drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he put learning that protocol on his mental checklist, along with learning about the most common injuries for football players. Why hadn't he thought to reach out to the team beforehand? Because… football. Rich motherfuckers who thought they owned the world. Tossing money around like they could do no wrong.

Lee broke that impression, though. Maybe because he was so young. A rookie, he'd said. But Drew was sure he'd read stories of hotshot, drafted players bankrupting themselves with their newfound wealth. Buying cars and houses, and throwing lavish parties. Maybe they were just stories… He'd have to ask… and he could now. He had Lee's number.

Jittery warmth hit Drew's gut. He'd always love Mac, but he couldn't live his whole life waiting for his best friend. How many hints did he have to drop? How many times did he have to put his arm around Mac, lean into him, dance with him, their bodies rubbing? Fuck, he'd felt Mac's hard dick against his thigh, his ass, but there always remained a distance between them. They'd tried too young, and Mac was reluctant to try again now that they were older.

Plus, Mac seemed determined to live the single, young gay man's life of working hard and partying harder. Every time he mentioned a date, Drew withdrew. He knew he did it, but couldn't stop himself. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't have a life. He studied his butt off, got excellent grades, had some spending money from his minimum-wage job and whatever his parents sent him. If he spent a little too much time in the gym burning off his frustration on those nights he knew Mac was out on a date, well, it paid off in the way his best friend eyed his ripped body and the way he often grabbed Drew's arm and felt up his muscles. Hell, yeah. He knew he looked good.

Catching Lee's gaze sizing him up hadn't been anything to sneeze at, either. Lee looked amazing in his own right. Those guns of his had Drew's mouth watering, and though he couldn't see Lee's thighs and ass, he bet they were tight. Every athlete he knew or watched had fantastic bodies, even the three-hundred-pound linebackers. He'd love to get his hands on the Trooper's safety and not necessarily in a medical way.

Lord have mercy, he hoped Lee could score him a position on the team. He didn't even care if he got paid peanuts at this point. With a secured job, he'd get his advisor off his back about the internship and wouldn't have to resort to working at a local nursing home. "No offense, Granny," he snickered under his breath.

Hope securely in hand, Drew parked and hastily made his way inside for his lecture.