24. Chapter 24

L eaves crunch as I walk along the cobblestone paths from the football facility to the quad. The crisp morning air stings my hot cheeks as I adjust my cap and pull my hoodie tighter against my exposed neck. Texas still doesn't feel like the fall I'm used to but the morning air is crisp for CTU.

As I get closer to the academic buildings, the campus is slowly coming to life. This morning's practice was grueling, which I knew it would be. Coach made sure we worked out all the alcohol in our systems from this weekend by sweating it out through our pores. I was thoroughly drenched and smelled terrible. Thank God for locker room showers. My muscles ache from the weekend's partying and rotting away on the couch all day yesterday. Factor in this morning's drills, and I feel like I was battling a freight train.

Laughter filters around me as I pass a group of people. One of the guys gives me a nod. "Nice game, Saturday."

"Thanks, man." I jerk my head up in the same motion. The feeling of being basically a celebrity on campus always catches me off guard.

As I climb the steps to the business building, I scan the faces, looking for a tall, black-haired beauty. Our class schedule is similar, and since we both major in business, the odds of running into each other are high. When I don't spot her immediately, I move down the hall for my first class of the day— Agriculture Marketing.

I pull open the door to the small lecture hall, slipping into a seat near the middle. Our professor is already in the room getting his items arranged for class. Reaching inside my bag, I do the same as I pull out my laptop and a notebook. Removing the pen from the spirals, I twirl it around my fingers, patiently waiting for class to start. Other students file in and sit as the room buzzes with chatter. Professor Ramirez clears his throat as silence falls over the room.

"Good Monday morning!" he enthusiastically greets. "Today, we'll be discussing the latest trends in agri-marketing strategies. By a show of hands, how many of you have heard of precision agriculture?"

A few hands go up, and while I know what it is, I hate being called on to explain things. Words can be tricky for me. While I'm smart, words get jumbled from my brain to my mouth.

Professor Ramirez calls on a girl in the front. "Precision agriculture involves using technology, like GPS and remote sensing, to optimize field-level management regarding crop farming. It's about increasing efficiency and yield by understanding the variability within a field."

"Exactly." He claps. Professor Ramirez is very passionate about agriculture, which is evident in his mannerisms. "How do you think this can be marketed to consumers?"

I thought of a farm in a neighboring town and how they mapped their property for some kind of simulator. With that knowledge, I decided to jump in. A sly smile slides across our professor's face as surprise from me raising my hand registers. "What do you have for us, Mr. Riggsby?"

"You could market through a video game. It's no secret that video games and apps are still all the rage. Gamifying the process could help consumers understand the complexities and benefits of modern farming techniques. "

With arms folded across his chest, Professor Ramirez raises an eyebrow. "Video games? Please elaborate on how this game might work."

Sitting up straighter in my seat, a new thrill runs through me. As much as I love football, nothing compares to my love of agriculture. It's been instilled in me since birth, and while I'm enjoying time away from the farm and seeing what else the world has to offer, I'm itching to get back to where it all started.

"The game could simulate a farm where players use precision agriculture tools to manage their crops. By creating a fictional farm, players will experience reality by making decisions based on weather patterns, soil conditions, and pest management. These are real variables that farmers must know how to handle and adapt to. The goal of the game would be to maximize yield while maintaining sustainability. Players could see the direct impact of their decisions."

The girl next to me begins nodding enthusiastically while she bounces her pointer finger in the air. "That's a great way to raise awareness of sustainable practices. And you could educate people who might not have exposure to farming. It could raise awareness and educate how important farming is to civilization."

"And you can incorporate challenges or difficulties on each level," a voice sounds from behind me, causing everyone to shuffle in their seats. "Players could solve real-life problems like drought, flooding, and pest infestation. It would make the game not only educational but fun and engaging."

"I am impressed," Professor Ramirez says, standing at the front of the room with a beaming smile.

Conversation continues around us as others give their opinions on how precision agriculture can be marketed. Some suggest transparency in farming practices, while others suggest direct-to-consumer sales, which cuts out the middleman. For the next hour, the class comes alive as the conversation flows into new territories as we express challenges in agriculture.

"What a thrilling conversation full of different perspectives, but intriguing nonetheless. For our last major assignment of the semester, you'll work in groups to develop a full marketing plan for your chosen educational component. Think about who you want your target audience to be, distribution channels, and promotional strategies. And remember, creativity is key."

He pauses, gathering his notebooks as time ticks closer to the end of class. "I know the video game idea is fun, but other ideas exist. Choose your groups carefully that balance skills. A proposal is due by next Friday." His final words are said in a rush as students gather their things.

Glancing around the room, my attention snags on the guy in the back who talked about the difficulty levels. He points to himself and then to me. I nod and join the scurry of people trying to find their groups.

"Care if I join you?" the girl sitting beside me asks.

I nod. "Sure, I'm Crew."

"Lauren."

"Eric," the guy from the back introduces himself. The three of us funnel out of the classroom.

"Sounds like a lot of work," Lauren says as she walks beside me.

While it will be a lot of work, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. This is why I came to school here.

"Yeah, but things like this can make a real difference." My mind is already spinning as excitement to start the project has my fingers twitching.

The three of us exchange numbers and start a group chat to discuss meeting times. It turns out that Eric is on the wrestling team, which makes finding a time that much more challenging. Between two athletes and a girl who works part-time, our schedules clash.

Moving through the line of students as we make our way down the hall, my eyes land on a broad smile coming toward me. My eyes trail up denim-clad legs, a sliver of skin peeking out from her cropped long sleeve. Her hair is pulled through a cap, and she looks happy. Her eyes flick to the girl next to me, and I see her eyebrow arch in confusion. It's slight, but I catch it.

Is my girl jealous?

"Can you guys send me your schedules, and I'll work with my boss to come up with a date that works for the three of us?" Lauren asks, clutching her books against her chest.

I nod while Eric agrees. "See you guys Wednesday."

The two of them go their separate ways as I wait on Bret. She stops, the toes of our shoes touching, as I smile down at her. "Morning, Rebel."

"Morning." Her smile never leaves her face. I love seeing her happy. Her smile is like coming up for fresh air. "Who's your fan club?"

"New group assignment for a huge project."

Turning on her toes, she takes her place next to me as we move out of the crowded hall and into a more secluded corner of the business building's lobby. "Looks like it'll be even harder to get alone time with you."

"Speaking of alone time." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"Crew Riggsby, I am not going to have public sex with you."

I scoff. "We'd find a storage closet."

She slaps my chest as she giggles. At the same time, I fight the urge to grab hold of her fingers and pull her into me.

"Have any plans tonight? "

She hums as her bright green eyes stare up at me. If we aren't careful, someone is going to see us. At this point, I hope someone does. I'm tired of having to watch my glances and touches. But I respect Bret's decision to wait. She doesn't want to cause animosity on the team, and I appreciate her decision.

"I don't think I have any."

"Good. What time are you done?"

"Six thirty."

"I'll pick you up out front of the Union." Bret glances around before quickly leaning up on her toes and pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek before she bounces away.

Turning, I watch her leave and can't help but think how grateful I am that she's in my life.

As the day winds down, I find myself back in the quad as the sun sets. Mentally exhausted, I move around students who are looking forward to heading home for the night, all to start this over in the morning. Veering off on a separate sidewalk, I spy Cody and Chloe lying underneath a tree. He's leaning against the tree while Chloe sprawls out in the grass. Her head rests in his lap as they both read. One of these days, that'll be me and Bret. Well, not precisely that particular scenario, but the open public display in a natural setting.

The door of the Union is held open for me, and I thank the girl who leans against the glass as I enter. I beeline for the coffee bar, desperate for a caffeine fix. The day plays over in my mind and all the homework and assigned reading I need to do. Everything feels overwhelming right now. The football season is ramping up with important games as we approach the end of the season and the battle to play in the championship is on us. Final projects are being assigned for classes as we prepare for final exams in the coming weeks. I love it, though. This is everything I've ever dreamed of, but it's fucking exhausting .

Stepping up to the counter, I ordered a small, hot black coffee and an iced peanut butter and mocha coffee. When I have my drinks, I take the stairs off to the side and walk through the basement toward the front of the building, hoping to avoid anyone eating dinner in the cafeteria. I didn't want to explain why I had two coffees in my hand. Climbing the stairs back up to the main level, I sit off to the side of the main entrance and wait for Bret.

Pulling out my phone, I pass the time by scrolling through Instagram. Saylor posted a video on her story of Grandpa being chased by that damn rooster. He's the meanest sonofabitch on the farm. The rooster, not Grandpa. Although, he is a tough old man and not one you want to piss off.

Hearing Saylor's laughter, an ache forms in my chest. I wonder how things would have been if Dad hadn't died. Would Jett and him have been able to mend their differences? Would he be home and not running away from the farm? Would I?

My mind filters back to the project we were assigned in agri-marketing. The idea of turning our family farm into a video game excites me. It's a potential new revenue stream that not many people have tried. Football might be my present, but farming is my future. A future where I want Bret standing beside me.

"Sorry," she huffs, startling me back to reality. "Class ran over."

Standing, I give her the cardboard cup. "What's this?"

"Thought you might need a caffeine fix."

She reaches for the cup, and I watch her hands wrap around it, her shoulders scrunching as she inhales the steam billowing from the lid. "God, I love you."

We both pause, eyes wide as we stare at each other. Time stands still, and neither of us knows how to navigate these waters. I've never had a girl tell me she loved me. I thought the first time I heard those words, I'd be hit with panic, that a cold chill would run through my veins at those three words.

But that's not what I feel. It's the complete opposite. Warmth spreads through my chest, my heart beats faster, and a smile spreads across my face.

Meanwhile, Bret's eyes are wide, her mouth floundering. I can see the wheels spinning in her brain as she internally panics. Are we there in our relationship? Who knows. But now that those words have been uttered into existence, I feel it.

"I love you, too." I interrupt her mental meltdown.

"Crew, I-I-I…" She trails off, her chest heaving. "You what?"

"I love you, Rebel." I nudge her shoulder as shock morphs her features. "Now let's go get some dinner, woman. I'm starving."

She nods, her shoulders sagging in relief at the topic change. I lead us through the glass doors and down the aisle of cars until we reach my truck. We both climb inside and silence fills the cab the whole way to the restaurant.

Downtown parking is smooth sailing this late on a Monday evening. Most commuters are home for the night, so I navigate through the streets and find a parking lot not far from our destination.

Bret and I step out of the truck, and her hand finds mine. I give her a few reassuring squeezes as she looks up at me. Flashing her a wink, I guide us down an alley.

"Did you bring me down here to kill me because I could think of ways you could do it on campus."

I scoff. "Absolutely not. There's no way I'm getting rid of my favorite person that easily."

"Could have fooled me," she mumbles as she scans the vacant street. A brown wooden door is ahead, with a dumpster further down the alley. Ivy runs up the red brick exterior where a small, lit sign above says Osteria Bella .

Ushering Bret inside, we are met with a dark hallway, light from the outside illuminating the space. The floors are lined with worn carpet, and the smell of fresh-baked bread and garlic permeates the air.

"Italian?"