16. Chapter 16

" W hat's up, Riggs?" JP sits at a table inside the private room of The Benjamin Liberty Library, where the football team has a weekly mandatory study session. The library was quieter than usual on a Wednesday evening, but that's how I like it. The fewer people inside, the less attention it brings to the football team. Not all of the team members show up at the same time on the same day, most study times revolve around everyone's schedules.

Pulling out a chair opposite him, I toss my backpack onto the table next to my cup of peanut butter and mocha iced coffee. I'm the type of person who shows up for class with an array of drinks stemming from some kind of caffeine, a bottle of water, and a protein shake of some sort. Tonight I'm going with only two options: coffee and a water bottle.

A few guys filter into the room, taking seats and pulling out textbooks. I followed suit and removed my agricultural finance textbook from my backpack along with my notebook and laptop. Tonight, I've got a hot date with a case study. As I start skimming over the notes from class, Harris drops down next to me with a huff.

"Tyler, you're late," the monitor overseeing our study tables says from where she sits in the back corner, her nose in a book.

Instead of replying, Harris let out a huff, which sounded more like a growl .

"Everything okay, man?" I ask, my voice barely audible so as not to get yelled at by the monitor.

Harris removes a stack of anatomy flashcards and a sports physiology book from his backpack and places them on the table, aggressively garnering the attention of the monitor. "Just a shitty quarterback's practice followed by another shitty media day. I'm so tired of the bullshit questions about how I'm overrated according to fans online hiding behind their screens and if it was a fluke we won the championship last year. Like Jesus Christ, I'm doing the best I fucking can."

Running my hand down my face, I let out a sigh. "Damn, man, that's rough. You know you're the best quarterback I've ever had? Bret was right when she told you that your football IQ and work ethic are unmatched."

"Thanks, man. I'm just tired of the media vultures."

JP snaps his head up from where he's reading. "They're unhinged this season."

Reaching out, I squeeze Harris's shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "You're not alone, man. Don't let the pressure get in your head. Shut the shit out and focus on your game. Just be you, and we'll be right there with you."

Nothing else is said as we all return our attention to our assignments. Harris spends the next hour flipping cards as he memorizes anatomy parts. JP reads through his marketing textbook and takes notes while I read over financial statements from a large agricultural firm.

For my agricultural finance class, we have to analyze financial statements and identify key ratios, assess the farm's economic health, and provide recommendations for improvements.

Deciding to pursue a degree in ag business was an obvious choice for me. Our family farm in Silo Bay is the second largest farm in our county, right behind Drummond Acres, and one of the top farms in the state. I've always known my future would be to work for the family farm, and I wanted to make sure I knew I could continue growing our business bigger and stronger for future generations.

Even though I know my ending is Silo Bay, it's still uncertain when I'll take things over. I still have two years left at CTU, and there's the possibility of going pro. Right now, my mom and grandparents are still running things and neither have any plans to step aside, which is fine with me.

And then there's my brother. As the firstborn son, Jett is supposed to be the first in line to take things over. However, he never showed interest in the farm when he was home. Now, he's been gone chasing wars and fighting the good fight for years while avoiding the responsibility at home.

Finally, the monitor announces the hour-and-a-half study session is over. Draining the rest of my water bottle, I place my items back into my backpack. I'm almost to the door when Harris nudges my shoulder. "Wanna go get a few reps in at the gym?"

"Sure, man."

"JP?"

JP situates his backpack on his shoulders as his hands clasp the straps. "Nah, man. Gotta work."

The two of us walk down the main stairs. The sun has long since set, and the library is lit in a warm glow from all the lamps and chandeliers. The Benjamin Liberty Library is one of the original buildings on campus, with its unique brick craftsmanship and a wall of stained-glass windows.

"JP has been working a lot," I muse .

"Yeah, I guess his sister was accepted into a music camp next summer, and it's pretty expensive. JP wants to make sure she can go, so he's been picking up extra shifts when he can."

"Damn. I mean, how cool for his sister, but that's a lot on him."

Harris nods. "It is. I guess his mom hasn't been getting the hours at her third job like she thought."

I hum in response. JP is one of five kids, and he's a prominent provider for his siblings. His dad bailed when he was ten and since then, his mom has been balancing two to three jobs to make ends meet. As hard as his mom works, things are still tight, so JP works when he can and then sends money home.

A vibration from my pocket has me reaching for my cell phone as I land on the main floor. Harris leads the way, opening the door for me as I read my sister's text message. It has a picture of her bottle-feeding a new black-and-white calf.

Saylor: Look at this cutie who arrived this morning!

Me: Why is he on the bottle?

Saylor: Weird. I thought I was texting my fun brother, not my grumpy one.

Me: Sorry. I just got out of study tables. I didn't know we were calving already.

Saylor: I guess I can forgive you. This little guy came a little early, but he's doing fine.

Me: He is cute.

Saylor: Well, of course he is. He's a Riggsby calf.

Me: That's right.

Saylor: Miss you, brother.

Me: Miss you too.

Saylor: How's things with Bret?

Me: Nothing is going on with me and Bret.

Saylor: If you say so.

Sliding my phone in my pocket, I shake my head. Silence falls over us as we walk the vacant sidewalks toward the football facility. Harris is lost in his thoughts and I let him stew with them. Tyler Harris is one of the best guys I know. He's insanely intelligent, dedicated, and caring. Harris is the person you want in your corner. This is why I'm letting him fester in his thoughts until we get to the weight room, and then I will snap him out of it.

Another vibration from my pocket has me reaching for my phone. I fully expect it to be more pictures from Saylor of the new calf, which is why I'm surprised to see ‘Rebel' flash across the screen.

Rebel: *image of her lying in bed from the neck down, only wearing a lace bralette and matching panties.*

Rebel: Sitting alone in this quiet apartment, I can't get you out of my mind.

My jaw drops as I stare at the image. Running my hand down my face, I scratch at my close-cut beard.

Me: Fuck, Rebel. I want to blow this workout off with Harris and come home to you.

Rebel: I'll keep my door unlocked.

Me: Good. I'm starving.

Rebel: Starving? Want me to order you food?

Me: Starving for you. My tongue is missing your taste, Rebel.

Rebel: Mmmm…maybe you should skip that workout.

Pocketing my phone, I push open the door and find Harris leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Am I keeping you from a hot date?"

"No." Startled, I try to keep the tremble from my voice. Does he know about us? There's no way. We've been keeping things down low.

He drops the conversation as we walk further inside the football facility lobby.

Hank, the night guard, glances up from his paperback. "Good evening, boys. What brings you here tonight?"

"Thought we'd get a workout in and work off some steam." Harris gestures with his head toward the hallway which leads to the weight room.

"You know, back in my day, we'd find a lady friend to help with that. "

We laugh, taken aback by the older man's comment: "Yeah, well, tonight I need to be alone with my thoughts."

"I saw that interview with that idiot reporter. Don't let them get to you, Mr. Harris."

"I'm trying not to, Hank."

Hank turns his attention back to his novel as we walk down the hall. Each time I come in here, I still take in the magnitude of this space. I love looking at all the trophies, awards, and highlights from past players. It keeps my motivation high and my desire to keep winning at the forefront of my mind.

I pull open the glass door to the workout room as Harris enters. The space is empty, and the smell of cleaning solution hits my senses. An empty gym is the perfect place to quiet the mind.

Tossing our backpacks to the side, Harris switches on the sound system as Def Leppard plays through the speakers.

"Now you're talking," I say, sitting down on the leg press while Harris takes his position on the shoulder press machine.

We fall silent as a cacophony of sounds fills the air from the beat of the music and the clanking of weights from the machines. After a few rounds, I glance over at my friend and see his look of determination and frustration.

"Dude, your thoughts are drowning out the music."

He grunts as he pulls the metal bar down and the pulley raises a heavy amount of weight. "I got a call from my mom before practice today."

"Ah, that explains the shitty practice." Dropping the weight back, I place my feet on the ground and rest my bent elbows on my knees.

"Yeah. I guess she met another new guy, and she's moving again." He pulls the metal bar down again, grunting at the exertion.

"Damn, man. How many times is that now? "

"Five," he grits.

Harris's mom is a mess. Since he moved to CTU freshman year, his mom has moved five times now. Each time, she calls and begs him to come home to meet the new flavor of the month. He tries to keep her at arm's distance to not create unnecessary drama for him, especially if the media were to catch wind. And that's part of the problem, too. He never knows if the guys are legitimately interested in his mom or are looking for a way to get closer to him and the payday he'll get when he becomes a professional quarterback.

Dragging my fingers through my hair, I let out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, man."

"It's all good. Nothing I'm not used to."

"Still fucking sucks."

He chuckles. "That it does."

"Listen, I know you want to work off your stress, but I don't think this is what you need right now."

"Gentlemen." A voice sounds from the doorway, startling us. Turning our attention, we spot Coach leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. "As much as I love to see the determination, what the hell are you guys doing here?"

I nod. "Hey, Coach."

"I needed a workout, and I talked Riggsby into coming too."

Coach's stoic expression doesn't give anything away. Instead, he places a foot in front of the other and makes his way over to us. He leans against a machine opposite Harris. "I get it, but I also don't need my QB hurt. Go home, Tyler. Get some rest, and come back tomorrow focused."

With a deep inhale, Harris nods. We both stand from our benches and start toward the doorway where our bags are. Coach Campbell follows us before he pushes open the doors and waits for us to exit. The three of us walk toward the lobby, no words being said. I can feel the frustration seeping off of Harris, and while I know he wants to push his body to the limit to feel some semblance of control, I also know that Coach is right. He doesn't need to risk an injury because he's pissed off.

"Night, gentlemen," Hank calls from over his novel.

"Night," we all reply in unison.

As we exit the main doors, Coach turns to walk in the opposite direction. He doesn't get too far before he pauses and calls out to us. "Tell my girl her ol' man says hi."

And with that goodbye, he just reminded us that we are living with his daughter.

The girl I'm falling for…hard.

When I enter the apartment, sounds from the TV fill the otherwise quiet space. I set my backpack in my doorway before entering the living room while Harris stops in the kitchen.

A street racing movie is playing on the screen while Bret lounges on the couch, her nose in a paperback. Tonight must be the night for everyone to read. I stand quietly for a moment while watching her read her book. Her legs move together as she flips to the next page. Moving close, I lean over and read the word "cock" on the page. Is my little Rebel reading a dirty scene?

"Hey, Rebel." Bret startles and lets out a squeal as she slams her book shut. She turns around, and her face is red.

"Shit, Crew. How long have you been standing there? "

"Long enough to read the word cock on your page." I didn't think her face could blush more, but I watched as her cheek color deepened. Sliding between the couch and the coffee table, I plop in the corner seat of the sectional, kicking my legs up onto the table. "What's your book about?"

She's trying to avoid eye contact with me, and I smile at how flustered she is. Harris comes into the living room, interrupting our moment. "Hi, Tyler."

"S'up, Bret?" Harris moves to the opposite side of the couch and takes a seat. " The Fast and The Furious Two ?"

"Only the best one." Bret turns onto her side and tucks her hands beneath her cheek as she watches the movie.

Glancing to my left, Harris is engrossed with the movie while chowing down on a cold meat sandwich. The dude looks rough as hell. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I open our message thread.

Me: Is my girl feeling spicy?

I feel her phone vibrate against the couch's material. The movie drowns out the sound. It's not long before mine alerts me of a new message.

Rebel: I don't know what you're talking about.

Me: Don't lie, Rebel. I saw you clenching your thighs together.

Rebel: Maybe I was just thinking about last night.

Me: Repeat tonight?

Rebel: If you're lucky *wink emoji*

Bret rolls over until she's on her back facing me. Her toes nudge my leg as my attention turns to her. "Hey, I have to create an educational campaign for one of my classes. I have an idea in my head, and I was wondering if you could help sketch it out?"

"I'm not the best at sketching anything other than animals, but I can try it."

"Thanks." Her lips tip up in a smile and flutters erupt in my chest. It's the same smile she flashes me when we are alone.

Late last night, after Bret arrived home from dinner with her dad and brother, she snuck in my room after our roommates had gone to bed. The two of us fooled around before she fell asleep in my arms. I had to wake her early this morning before the guys woke up so she could sneak back into her room.

I can't wait until we don't have to hide our relationship anymore. There isn't a better way to start my day than by waking up with her in my arms. But if keeping our relationship a secret is the only way I can have her, then I'll take that secret to my grave.