She cared. She totally cared.
She kept backing up, then stopped. Her face cleared before growing determined again. “Next time you have to work a box at a game like today, ask who’s going to be in it.”
Okay. Let’s play this game, too.
I asked, starting to grin, “And what, then? If I find out it’s someone like today?”
“Refuse.” Duh.
My grin grew. “And if my boss says I have no choice?”
Her mouth flattened. Her head pulled back. She’d never thought of that scenario and gave me a shrug. “Then quit? They’ll hire you the next day. I mean, look around.” She waved a hand. “This place needs you. It’s a mess.”
I let out a full laugh now.
Mia rolled her eyes and turned to go back to her table.
Cammie sidled up next to me, a tray under her arm. “You know Mia Catanna?”
I did her one better. “I live with Mia Catanna.” I moved to go and take more orders because this was my job and this was my new normal. And I loved it because for some reason, everything fell into place and it hit me that night.
I would be okay.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Boy, oh boy. Times had changed.
All of my housemates and the rest of the football team stayed until the bar closed. And apparently, when everyone is celebrating, when everyone is loose and relaxed and happy, there’s a contagious feeling that takes over entire crowds. I could say that because I was in the back of my house. I was sitting at the picnic table, squished with Joe on one side, Cammie on the other. Ben had even been called and he was sitting at the end of our table.
We had Dent and Nacho debating the dangers of going keto during the off season, even for a month to trim pounds, and the rest of my housemates were either spread around the backyard or in the house because here I was. Antisocial, newly orphaned college student in the midst of one of my housemate’s infamous parties. I knew tonight was extra special because I’d even glimpsed some of my classmates from my genetics class in the corner.
“It’s ridiculous!” Dent cried out, half rising from his side of the table. “Why the fuck would you want to trim weight and in the off season, no less? You’re a defensive lineman. We need you in your weight class.”
“Because Coach thinks I need to trim.”
“Not like that!” Dent was very concerned about this potential diet. “Your body will rebel and you’ll lose muscle mass. This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard from you. Lean meat. Carbs in moderation. And fruits and vegetables. Stick to your protein drinks, too. Or hell, have you talked to the team’s nutritionist? What’d she say about this?”
Nacho’s shit-eating grin was enough to convince me he had no intention of going through a keto crash diet, but it was funny to see Dent get so worked up.
Cammie leaned down to me, then. “So, these guys? Really? They’re all your roommates?” Her tone was awed, but she was trying to hide how awed she was. That told me she was really awed.
“It kinda was this horrible miscommunication, but we’ve all grown on each other. Sort of like a clam and two shells.”
“I’ll say.” Nacho had overheard. He pointed at me. “I love clams. They look like dicks. And you guys haven’t lived until you’ve tasted this girl’s cooking. She does a full pizza buffet that’s out of this world. I don’t know what you’re going to school for, Dusty, but you should be going for culinary school. You could be one of those Michelob chefs.”
Dent burst out laughing, holding his sides. “It’s Michelin chefs. Michelin. Not the beer, you dumbass.”
“I’m not the dumbass thinking a starting defensive lineman is going to do keto on his off season.”
Dent stopped laughing. Frowned. And shot to his feet. “What? You were lying the whole time?”
“I was messing with you, not lying.”
“You fuckhead.” He stalked off, going into the house. Lisa called after him, but he ignored her. She frowned, holding a beer, but turned back to the group she’d been talking to.
“He gets so worked up about everything.” Nacho was now griping, but he stood and was going after him.
Lisa said something to him, too, and he only gestured into the house. She sent me a frown, wavering, then came over. She moved to the edge of the table where I was. The rest of the conversation halted. That’s just what happened when these guys approached. Lisa didn’t notice, her eyes only on me. “Those two fight or something?”
“Nacho was gonna do the keto thing. Dent believed him. Got upset when he found out it was a joke.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “He’s so sensitive sometimes.” She migrated back over to her group, sipping on her beer the whole time.
I didn’t recognize the others at the table besides Joe, Cammie, and Ben.
Joe groaned, hunching over the table. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m a grad student and I manage the Quail. I should go, be irresponsible somewhere else.”
Ben grinned at him. “Or maybe you should stick around, see if you can get lucky?”
Ben held his beer up over the table. He said as Joe clinked it with his, “That’s the way to go, man. It’s only Homecoming once a year, and we blew the Stallions out of the water this year. We should celebrate.”
Cammie was watching the two, her own faint grin tugging at her lip. “Look at you both, bonding and having a good time.”
Ben nodded, saluting her with his beer. “Thanks for the invite.” He scanned the backyard. “I know Catanna from school, but she’s never invited me to one of these parties.”
Cammie gestured to me. “Don’t thank me. Thank our hookup here.”
“That’s not me. The guys were just at the bar and said, “Everyone head over.””
She laughed. “Right, because the last time they did that, staff were included in the invite?”
I had no idea.
Joe leaned closer to me, the four of us pulling in to form our own group at the table. “They’ve never done this. I’m older than everyone here, but even I’ve heard about the infamous ‘football house’ parties.” At my confused look, he clarified, “This is the football house, not because the actual team lives here, but because most of the team are always hanging out here. You’ve got connections, girl.” He whistled, leaning back. “And you basically lied at your job interview.”
“I have no connections.”
The door was shoved open, slamming against the side of the house. It was loud enough that everyone paused in their conversations and looked over. Wyatt was there. He was looking, and seeing me, he waved. “Dusty Girl, come here! We just got back from the grocery store.”
I groaned, but I stood up. “You think if you buy the materials, your personal chef will come?”
He barked out a laugh as I walked up the patio steps. His arm came down around my shoulder and he walked with me inside. “There’s our awesome little funny chef, making a Field of Dreams reference. We could do with a few more.”
Noel and Savannah were unpacking the groceries.
I murmured, “Just call me James Earl Jones.” But even though I was grumbling, I spied the fresh cilantro and arugula, and I was already thinking about some fancy Mexican recipes. I nudged Wyatt’s side before he dropped his arm. “Tell me the truth. You guys only like me because I can cook a mean meal, right?”