And I’d made the sports news not long ago, an in-depth interview that pushed me right into the spotlight.

“And they want you? What about the combine?” Leah asks, referring to the campaign where players have to register and show off their skills to the coaching staff.

“They’re still holding it in early February, but they’re flying me out for it. They have three key players they’re looking at to replace Kelly.” I draw in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m one of them.”

“Holy shit,” Leah breathes, frozen on the spot as she stares at me. Then she yells it. “Holy fucking mother of all shit!”

Her drink bottle drops to the floor and she leaps. Her tackle sends me flying backwards. My ass hits the back of the sofa, and the force of her momentum sends us right over. I land on the soft cushions. Leah isn’t so fortunate. She rolls right over the top of me and lands on the other side, hitting the carpet with a bone-jarring thud.

“Are you okay?” I gasp, hearing her wheeze from below.

A few moments later Leah’s head pops up from the floor like a meerkat, a manic grin splitting her face. “A Reign,” she squeaks. “I can’t believe it.” Then her smile fades a little and she stills, comprehension dawning on her face. “Seattle. That’s …”

A hellishly long way from here. The distance feels greater as I fight my way through rushing students, anxious to arrive at my Ethics lecture on time. Jostled from all sides, I hold my protein shake up high to keep it safe as I push my way through. I slip inside the door and my eyes seek out Brody.

He’s in his seat, Jaxon laughing at something he says. Despite the cool season, he’s in his usual ensemble of muscle tee shirt and shorts. It’s not worn to tantalize—Brody’s body temperature runs at combustible levels, making him better suited to polar ice caps and life in the Arctic—but it does anyway. The abundance of biceps and packed muscle lining his rib cage catches my attention and holds it for a long, admiring moment.

Jaxon sees me first and nudges Brody. He swivels in his seat and finds me. A curve slowly tilts his lips as he watches me walk toward him. My body clenches. Lust. Fear. Elation. Heartache. I feel it all. Everything except regret. But as I look at Brody I know that, too, will come. Later. When I’m gone. Because that’s what happens when your need to be the best eclipses all else. Sacrifices are made, and those you love are always the first to suffer.

I reach the empty desk beside him and set my shake down first. Oblivious to my inner turmoil, he reaches over and swipes it from me.

“Hey!” I cry. My stomach growls with fury when he takes the straw inside his mouth and takes a deep pull. I dump my books on the desk, my bag on the floor beside it, and slide into my seat. “That’s mine.”

“So are you.” Brody leans across, his voice low. “Can I swipe you up and suck you down too?”

Heat breaks over me in a wave, leaving me damp between my legs. Cocky bastard knows how to get to me. Too bad for him I’m learning. My lids lower. “Only if I can return the favor.”

Brody sucks in a strangled breath, making him choke on the straw. Satisfied I won the round, I steal back the shake and set it on the far side of my desk. After coughing to clear his throat, he gives me a wounded glare. “You’re such an ogre in the mornings, Jordan. I’m thinking I don’t like this side of you.”

“Good morning students,” our professor calls out, saving me from finding a suitable retort. Our eyes draw to the front. Professor Draper sets his messenger bag on the desk. Not wasting time, he opens the flap and pulls out a handful of papers. “Look what I have for you all.” He turns and waves them in the air. “Midterm papers.”

A collective groan fills the room.

“There have been some surprising and some disappointing results across the board. Some of you may need to think seriously about cutting your losses and dropping this class. If you believe your grade is incorrect, do not see me after class today with your complaint. I don’t have time. Schedule an appointment. If anything, it will at least give you time to build your case.”

Nerves churn the protein shake in my belly to curdled milk. I steal a quick glance at Brody. He appears relaxed, sitting back in his seat, his pen tapping a rhythmic tune on his desk. Only the slight flex of his jaw betrays his anxiety.

“Don’t look now,” Jaxon mutters and leans back in his seat on the other side of Brody.

The papers are handed off to Kyle, who begins weaving between desks as he hands them out. Student chatter fills the room, but the two us share a wordless glance.

You’ve got this, I want to say but my mouth won’t form the words.

Kyle makes his way down the row on my right. Reaching me, he places my exam paper face down on my desk and leans in. It’s uncomfortably close, and I feel Brody tense beside me. I meet Kyle’s piercing green eyes and my skin crawls.

“Great job,” he murmurs for only me to hear. “If only you were that smart in choosing the people you hang around with.”

He straightens, tapping my paper twice with his finger before he goes to move on. Fury explodes. For a moment I can’t see through the red haze. Is this how guys feel right before they go for the punch?

My outer self remains eerily calm when I put a hand on his arm, halting him. He leans back in as if I’m going to speak as quietly as he did. I don’t. My words are loud enough to fill the entire room. “You want to know about choosing friends?” Silence settles around me, chatter dying a swift death. Brody shifts closer to me in his seat, the move so subtle I feel more than see it. “If you, Brody, and I were the last three people on Earth and only you knew how to save us, I would still choose Brody, because the only person you care about saving is you.” Kyle’s eyes narrow at my unforgiving little speech, each word getting louder and more forceful as I speak. Good. If only he’d choke on it too. “Life is too short to spend your last moments with assholes and you, Kyle Davis, are the biggest one I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

He jerks his arm from under my hand and straightens. I’m expecting an angry retort, but I get nothing. After a stony stare, a smug file forms on his lips. He makes sure we see it before he turns his back and continues down the aisle.

Jaxon busts up with laughter, but there’s nothing from Brody. I take him in with a sidelong glance. He’s a simmering volcano. The moment Kyle makes his way up Brody’s aisle, he’s going to erupt.

“Don’t,” I tell him.

His jaw ticks. He’s staring straight ahead as if he can’t hear me.

“Brody.”

Nothing.

Any altercation, big or small, could end up on YouTube and go viral. It would get back to his coach, who would have no choice but to extend public discipline and suspend him from a game. I don’t need to tell that to Brody. He knows it.

When Kyle makes his way up the opposite aisle between Brody and Jaxon, Brody’s body tightens like a coiled spring.

Kyle slaps the paper down on his desk and continues on.

I close my eyes, relieved.

Brody held it together.

Or so I thought.

The sound of scrunching paper reaches me. I open my eyes. The exam is a crushed mess in Brody’s fist, and it’s shaking. An ugly feeling takes over as he stands and grabs his bag. A panicked buzz fills my ears.

“Brody!”

He pauses for a split second and looks at me. I expect anything but the blank expression I get. It sends cold shivers up my spine. I open my mouth and he shakes his head. I shut it.

“I can’t be here,” is all he says.

My eyes follow him out the door. What the hell just happened? I search for Professor Draper. He’s standing by a student’s desk, but his eyes are also on the door, his expression resigned. A quick scan of the room shows Kyle calmly walking down the aisles, dispensing papers as though he hasn’t a care in the world.