I’d wrestled with this one a lot, running over it in my head trying to figure out the best way to move past it. Campus security, honor council, the campus rumor mill—getting everyone caught up in that wasn’t what any of us wanted or needed. Not in the middle of their season. Not when LJ needed to focus on the field, not on coming to my rescue. There was no doubt he’d stand up for me no matter what—even if it wasn’t in his best interest. He was an annoyingly good best friend that way.
“You protected me. And I know what he did was fucked up, but I don’t want you to get in trouble for fighting. I know they’re strict about that. The bruises on my arms are almost gone. It’s the middle of the season.” I shrugged. “I don’t want to jeopardize your chances this season.”
“But—“
“I can only hope the ass kicking you laid on him--”
He flinched like I was making him relive it by bringing it up again. A bad memory he didn’t want. It reaffirmed why I’d steer clear of Chris and keep Keyton and LJ out of the campus council.
The joking tone dried up from my voice. “I think now he knows he’s not untouchable and he’d better not do anything like that ever again.”
His frown deepened and the muscles in his neck strained, but he didn’t say anything else. Time to direct this conversation elsewhere or I’d have him avoiding me for the rest of the year.
“You guys leave tonight, right?” How are you feeling about the season so far?”
“It’s been down to the wire more than a few times.”
“They’ve been hard to watch sometimes. But I know you’ll kick some Michigan Wolverine ass.”
He slipped on a sly grin. “You know we will. Hopefully LJ will get some time on the field.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? He’s not getting anywhere near the time he should be getting. He played—what? —two plays last game.” It didn’t make sense. Ron was all about the win. It’s why he’d left to go on the road from college to college until he built the powerhouse program at Fulton U. It’s why he made me come to Monday dinners. There had to be an on the field strategy where it made sense to save LJ up until he was most needed.
The door opened and LJ walked in with his backpack slung over his shoulder after this afternoon’s classes.
“Hey, LJ. Marisa was just asking why the hell you’re not playing much this season.”
LJ’s face fell like he was looking over a hundred-foot ledge. “Slacking on workouts and stuff. Just not putting in my all.”
“You were always the first one in the gym and the last one to leave.” I folded my arms and stalked across the living room. Slacking wasn’t a word in his vocabulary.
“I’ve been distracted with graduation right around the corner.” His voice trailed off and he wouldn’t meet my eye.
Diversion. Evasion. Deflection. We might as well have been in the Philly Zoo for how cagey he was being.
“I have cookies!” He held up the massive plastic container. “Jules stopped me on the way in with these new ones. They’re supposed to be for Berk, but he won’t mind.” He shot a look over my shoulder toward Keyton.
What was he up to? And why was he dragging Keyton into it like that night at the bar?
He rattled the container and popped off the lid. “Let’s break these bad boys open. Marisa, you can make a pitcher of drinks to go with these.”
“Yeah, but about what Keyt—” My words were cut off by a cookie shoved into my mouth.
The soft-baked cookie was a peanut butter and chocolate explosion of ecstasy. I moaned and took another bite. Something was up with LJ. But I didn’t want to subject Keyton to even more uncomfortable conversations, and these cookies were first-in-line-at-a-new-exhibit phenomenal.
“Holy shit.” I stared at LJ and grabbed another one from the box. “Keyton, you have to try these. They’re insane.” Devouring mine, I handed one to him.
“It would have to be…” He took a bite and his eyes widened. “Damn.”
“Right?”
“So, Marisa, what drink do you think would go with this?” LJ herded me into the kitchen.
“Do you really want to drink tonight? You’re on a plane early tomorrow.”
“A couple won’t hurt. We need to celebrate these cookies.” He handed me another. “What would you make?”
I racked my volumes of alcohol knowledge. Liv tended to show off her boarding-school bartending skills most often, but I was a solid fallback when it came to getting creative. “Maybe a hazelnut liqueur with hot chocolate.”
Keyton poked his head into the kitchen. “Did someone say hot chocolate?”
“Yeah, we could try that, it would be sweet enough to go with these cookies, but not too hard-hitting. Plus it’ll be a nice fall drink.” I grabbed another one from the box. “Berk better hurry up or these are going to be gone.”
“Perfect. I’ll go to the store and Keyton can come with me.” LJ didn’t wait for anyone to agree with anything. He took another cookie from the container and shoved it into Keyton’s mouth and marched them both out the front door.
If he thought dessert, drinks and distractions would keep me from finding out why he was fumbling his last season, he’d clearly taken one too many hits in practice.
We couldn’t have a dinner of cookies alone, although leaving them here with me by myself was a liability. The smell of them wafted to me like they were cartoon curls curving through the air and straight up my nose.
I slammed the lid down on the box and turned to the fridge.
Pizza boxes, leftover meal platters Nix had dropped by, old wings and beer.
I checked inside the freezer. There were a few packs of frozen chicken. I grabbed two and banged them against the counter. Frozen solid.
Eyeing the blocks of meat and the microwave, I formulated a plan. Both packs went into the microwave. I chucked them inside, hit defrost, put in the weight and hit start.
The timer flashed 25 minutes.
I went back upstairs and sat down at my computer to finalize my Venice Fellowship presentation. I’d made it to the final three applicants across twenty schools. When the email from Professor Morgan had landed in my inbox, I’d been afraid to open it, but I had.
She’d sent over the requirements to move forward with my application. It included designing a social media plan for a collection they currently had in-house and a one-day course for visitors to the museum.
LJ hadn’t brought it up since the night we’d last talked about it. It felt like an undetonated landmine in our friendship. Easier to pretend it wasn’t there—just like my attraction to him.
My nose itched and I grabbed some tissues. Next, my eyes watered. I looked at the window, which was closed. What the hell?
The front door banged open. “Holy shit!” Berk’s voice boomed from below.
I flew from my desk down the stairs. Coughing, I was caught in the all-too-familiar feeling of dread.
Berk rushed from the back door he’d flung open and popped open the microwave. Grabbing a pair of oven mitts, he pulled his shirt up over his nose and shoved his hands into the opening. Out came a melted mess of plastic and Styrofoam.
He shot me a look split between ‘what the fuck’ and sympathy.