Brody takes our team physician’s place, picking up where he left off. He sets my boot on the ground and begins peeling my sock down my calf.

“So here we are again,” I reply lightly.

“Here we are again,” Brody confirms. His voice is tight, and I’m waiting for him to tell me I shouldn’t have been on the field to start with but it doesn’t come. Instead he bends his head, intent on his task as he unwinds the strapping tape that would’ve given away my pre-existing injury to Emilio. He rolls it up and tucks it in the pocket of his jeans without missing a beat.

Gratitude fills me. “Thank you.”

“Jordan,” Brody begins and takes a deep breath. He looks away, his eyes on the distance while my bare foot rests on his leg and his hands hold my calf.

“What?”

Brody’s eyes return to mine. No lecture is given. His lips curve instead. “I’m proud of you. You played real good out there.”

Warmth lights me up from the inside out. Heedless of my injury, my returning smile is bright and unrestrained. “Thank you.”

Emilio returns and when I’m iced and as comfortable as possible, Brody sits beside me and we watch out the last ten minutes together. Our team’s defense holds and when the final whistle blows, we win 2-1.

Brody goes with Emilio to get my bag and a set of crutches so I close my eyes. Sensing company, I open them to find Jaxon standing before me. It puts me on immediate alert considering our last conversation didn’t go down so well. “Are you lost, Jaxon?”

“Nope.”

That single word indicates a conversation is imminent. I sigh heavily and close my eyes again. The bench shudders when he sits beside me. After a moment of silence I squint an eye open at him. “What do you want?”

Resting his elbows on his knees, he’s links his fingers together. “Would you believe me if I said I just don’t want to see you hurt?”

“No.” I stare out into the emptying bleachers opposite me. “Would you believe me if I said it doesn’t matter because I can take care of myself?” Which clearly I can’t. A certain brooding, flirty footballer is under my skin and I can’t dig him out. If I do something so stupid as to hand over my heart, Brody will mark it ‘return to sender’ and mail it back flatter than a turkey sandwich. The problem is that I’m not sure I can stop myself. “Why do you even care?” I ask. “We’re not friends if I recall.”

It’s a cheap shot, but I’m not feeling nice right now.

Jaxon hisses through his teeth. “I guess I deserved that, but you lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t.”

His eyes roll. “Jordan—”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Jaxon. All I’m saying is that I never lied to you. Circumstances aren’t always what they seem.”

“Oh they aren’t?” Jaxon sits back on the bench and folds his arms. I’m struck then by how much he looks like Brody. His body is leaner and his hair has more curl, but their eyes and mannerisms are the same. “Are you or are you not dating my cousin?”

“Is there a problem, Jax?” Brody says from behind me. His timing is impeccable.

“Nope. No problem.” Unfolding his arms, he tucks them behind his head and leans back like he’s enjoying himself. “I was just telling Jordan here how crazy you are about her.”

“Of course he is.” That comment is thrown in from Leah. I turn my head. Both she and Brody stand behind us. Leah’s had a quick shower and changed into sweats, her sports bag slung over her shoulder. Mine is in Brody’s hand. His other holds a set of crutches. “No one missed that kiss before kick off. I thought the stadium would erupt in flames.”

Me too. Heat floods my cheeks just thinking about it. “We should get going. I need a shower.”

Brody helps me with the crutches and our progress outside the stadium is slow. “Jax.” He tosses a set of keys toward his cousin. “Can you bring the car to the front parking lot?”

Jaxon snatches them midair and shrugs. “Yeah sure, whatever.”

We make it outside where my car is parked by the entrance, and Brody halts so fast I almost go ass backwards.

He waves a hand at the hunk of metal parked on a perfect angle. “This is your car?”

“Yeah, it’s my car,” I reply, my defensive hackles rising. “What of it?”

“It’s falling apart.” Brody holds out his hand, palm up. “Give me your keys.”

“What? No!”

His eyes narrow and suddenly it feels like game on. “Fine. I was going to get Jax to drive it to the junkyard, but we can just leave it here. I can get it towed or maybe you’ll get lucky and a meteor will shoot down from the sky and crush it flat.”

My mouth falls open. “I paid good money for that car.”

Technically I didn’t. It didn’t cost much at all, but when your brother works his backside off and eats cheese toasties for dinner every night just to save money to send you off overseas, you tend to appreciate the value of a dollar.

“Then you got ripped off,” he retorts.

The urge to jab him with my crutch is strong. “It works perfectly fine.”

His brows shoot sky high.

“Actually it makes this weird kind of juddery noise when it goes above forty,” Leah contributes. “And the air conditioner doesn’t work. Neither does the passenger side window. Or the remote central locking.”

“Are you finished?” I snap at Leah without taking my eyes from Brody. “My car gets me from A to B like it’s supposed to.”

A gleaming black SUV pulls up beside us. The door opens, revealing cream leather seats and a spotless interior. Jaxon alights. With him he brings the indescribable scent of ‘brand-new car.’ It’s heady.

Jaxon tosses the keys at Brody, who jerks his chin toward it. “Get in.”

“No.”

His eyes fall to my mouth for a long, uncomfortable moment. I have to stop myself from swaying forward.

“Really, Jordan. Your car isn’t safe.”

Neither are you.

I don’t let him win and I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s my rationality clutching at the last straws I have left. Whatever it is, our standoff ends with Leah driving me home. It’s a hollow victory. I got my way, but I didn’t get Brody and it seems he’s all I want right now.

Brody

The bus jolts and quakes, coming to a stop on campus Sunday night. Our away game ended with a solid victory and spirits are high. Not me. My head is all over the place.

The apartment’s empty when I get home, so I go for a run to try and gain some focus. After a ten-minute warm-up, I head out. It’s late, the dark streets filled with students coming from or going to parties. I keep my head down and cap low as I dodge them, focusing only on the thump of music pounding in my head.

An hour passes before I’m a tired, sweaty mess. It should’ve been enough to get my head straight, but it’s not. I have an icy shower to cool off. With my skin covered in goose bumps, I pull on a pair of boxer briefs and grab a beer from the fridge. With Damien and Jaxon not around, it’s a good chance for me to do the reading Jordan expects of me.

Setting the beer on my bedside table, I stretch out on my bed and shove a couple of pillows behind my back, resting my laptop on my thighs. I open my email first and catch Jordan’s name amongst an inbox full of junk. Finding the subject line, I double-click to open it.

Brody,

We need to go through the material for midterms so we know what areas to focus on. When do you want to do that?

Jordan

Brief. To the point. Jordan couldn’t be any less personal if she tried. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I tip it back, my throat working as I swallow down half the contents. It cools my chest, but not other parts of my body. My mind is stuck on our kiss. It’s obvious it affected Jordan as much as it did me. Her body trembled and the heat in her eyes almost rivaled my own. Jordan wants me and she’s denying herself. Now she’s going back to her predictable game plan of forcing distance.