numbers like today. I know that, and I'm grateful for it. But that's beside the point. This girl, Carrie . . . she's getting to you. You need to get your head right. You're getting away with it the past two weeks, but come next week, we can't have it. We're playing Clement, remember? Their defense is all hard core motherfuckers."
"They always are. At least they aren't as bad as they used to be," I say, thinking back to my freshman year. Back then, Clement had beasts at linebacker, especially in the middle. Biggest ass whipping I've ever taken in a game. "But yeah, they’re good.”
"Damn right. Unless you want to be punked in front of a home crowd next week, including Carrie, you’d better have your shit tight come game time," Tyler says, finishing his hair. "Yo, we're friends, right?"
“I guess,” I reply, checking out my own hair. I'm not as picky as Tyler, but I'm not going to look like a mop coming out of the locker room either. "You know how I roll."
"Nobody's your real friend. I know. But you know what I mean. Just... make sure you're doing what needs to be done. The League's calling your name next year, while I'm hoping to get a spot up in Canada or on someone's backup roster. Ah well. No matter what, I've still got one thing on you."
"What's that?"
Tyler flips his hair and flashes me a cocky surfer boy grin. "I'm still better looking than you."
I laugh, our rift healed. "I doubt it. At least, that's not what your mom says."
* * *
" I can't believe you asked the coaches to do this," Carrie says as I meet her in the library. I hoped she'd be flattered, but instead, she's upset, but I'm not sure why. "I mean, as if having me as your personal taper isn't bad enough, Duncan—"
"Nobody's going to say a single word about you. I've made sure of that," I reply, setting my bag down and realizing what it is. That stupid fucking nickname. Yeah, it's pretty obvious to everyone that I'm wanting to get in her pants, but things have changed some too. I don’t want her as just another notch in my belt. "I just realized a couple of things after I got that first test back."
"That you shouldn't have blown off your science requirements for three years?" Carrie says as we sit down in the study booth. Western's library is huge and has two-person booths lining the study area that are perfect for this sort of partnered tutoring. "And maybe choosing Introduction to Human Biology wasn't the best choice?"
"Well, I figured I'm already an expert in the portion on reproduction," I tease, and it makes me warm to see Carrie blush a bit before she shakes her head. She's still so shy, but she's able to be strong too. Softness and strength together . . . God, she's sexy.
"I doubt that the Kama Sutra is on any of the tests," Carrie says, coming around at least a little bit. "However, the Krebs Cycle is, and for a guy who uses it to build a ton of muscle on that frame of yours, you don't know how it works."
"So help me," I say, and Carrie looks around, nervous. "I'm serious, Carrie. I know I'm a jerk, and maybe I shouldn't have kissed you the way I did before the first game, but . . . well, I enjoy spending time with you. Three games, seven touchdowns caught, and it's because of your work with me. Well, I take that back. Some of it is because of your work with me. You're cooler than most of the assholes around this campus."
I'm warmed again when Carrie brushes a lock of her cornsilk blonde hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. I realize she doesn't know how hot she really is, maybe because of the weight loss, maybe because of her keeping her nose in the books too much. But as confident as she is academically or when it comes to training, she's just as shy and insecure in the social realm.
I take her hand. “Come on, Carrie. I promise I'll behave myself, all right?"
"All right," Carrie says, giving me a little smile, and we get to work. She's got a knack for explaining things, better than the teacher's aide who's been trying to get
"They always are. At least they aren't as bad as they used to be," I say, thinking back to my freshman year. Back then, Clement had beasts at linebacker, especially in the middle. Biggest ass whipping I've ever taken in a game. "But yeah, they’re good.”
"Damn right. Unless you want to be punked in front of a home crowd next week, including Carrie, you’d better have your shit tight come game time," Tyler says, finishing his hair. "Yo, we're friends, right?"
“I guess,” I reply, checking out my own hair. I'm not as picky as Tyler, but I'm not going to look like a mop coming out of the locker room either. "You know how I roll."
"Nobody's your real friend. I know. But you know what I mean. Just... make sure you're doing what needs to be done. The League's calling your name next year, while I'm hoping to get a spot up in Canada or on someone's backup roster. Ah well. No matter what, I've still got one thing on you."
"What's that?"
Tyler flips his hair and flashes me a cocky surfer boy grin. "I'm still better looking than you."
I laugh, our rift healed. "I doubt it. At least, that's not what your mom says."
* * *
" I can't believe you asked the coaches to do this," Carrie says as I meet her in the library. I hoped she'd be flattered, but instead, she's upset, but I'm not sure why. "I mean, as if having me as your personal taper isn't bad enough, Duncan—"
"Nobody's going to say a single word about you. I've made sure of that," I reply, setting my bag down and realizing what it is. That stupid fucking nickname. Yeah, it's pretty obvious to everyone that I'm wanting to get in her pants, but things have changed some too. I don’t want her as just another notch in my belt. "I just realized a couple of things after I got that first test back."
"That you shouldn't have blown off your science requirements for three years?" Carrie says as we sit down in the study booth. Western's library is huge and has two-person booths lining the study area that are perfect for this sort of partnered tutoring. "And maybe choosing Introduction to Human Biology wasn't the best choice?"
"Well, I figured I'm already an expert in the portion on reproduction," I tease, and it makes me warm to see Carrie blush a bit before she shakes her head. She's still so shy, but she's able to be strong too. Softness and strength together . . . God, she's sexy.
"I doubt that the Kama Sutra is on any of the tests," Carrie says, coming around at least a little bit. "However, the Krebs Cycle is, and for a guy who uses it to build a ton of muscle on that frame of yours, you don't know how it works."
"So help me," I say, and Carrie looks around, nervous. "I'm serious, Carrie. I know I'm a jerk, and maybe I shouldn't have kissed you the way I did before the first game, but . . . well, I enjoy spending time with you. Three games, seven touchdowns caught, and it's because of your work with me. Well, I take that back. Some of it is because of your work with me. You're cooler than most of the assholes around this campus."
I'm warmed again when Carrie brushes a lock of her cornsilk blonde hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. I realize she doesn't know how hot she really is, maybe because of the weight loss, maybe because of her keeping her nose in the books too much. But as confident as she is academically or when it comes to training, she's just as shy and insecure in the social realm.
I take her hand. “Come on, Carrie. I promise I'll behave myself, all right?"
"All right," Carrie says, giving me a little smile, and we get to work. She's got a knack for explaining things, better than the teacher's aide who's been trying to get
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