Page 11 of End Game

“What? You can’t tell?” He flexes, his big arms bulging.

Some of the girls behind me giggle.

“Oh, yes, very obvious,” I tell him seriously. “Where’s B?”

Amir rolls his eyes. “He’s on the phone with his parents. It didn’t sound pretty.”

I wince. Yeah, if he’s talking to his parents, he’s sure to be in a stellar mood.

“I’ll be sure to give him some space, then.”

Wes grunts.

“You’re right. We should sit down,” Amir says in response.

“Good to see you, Dee,” Greg says. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” I try to go back to my lunch, only to find half the team staring at me. “What?”

“You know football players?” Jackie says.

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “You know those football players? Didn’t you just get here, like, yesterday?”

Down the table, Johanna looks less than impressed. Rosie, Rachel, Rebecca, and Robin are whispering amongst themselves.

“I met them over spring break. My best friend is on the football team. He introduced me to his roommates when I came for my transfer interview,” I explain. I have a feeling I’ll have to explain this quite a bit.

“He kissed you,” Lauren points out.

“It was only my cheek. Greg is a very affectionate guy.” He’s always giving me hugs. He does the same with Sam and Mason, Miles and Tucker’s girlfriends.

Not that I’m Barrett’s girlfriend. I’m simply his friend who is a girl.

Our friendship has always transcended the distance between us. In high school, he used to bribe his older brother, Dougie, to drive him out to Amherst for the weekend. Once he got his driver’s license, my house was the first place he drove by himself. My parents were glad to have him. He brought a certain life and warmth back to our house.

He would come out on Friday afternoons after school, spend all day Saturday at the soccer fields cheering on my team, and then have family dinner with my parents before we went out to a house party or the movies with my school friends, who knew him nearly as well as I did. Sunday, we would have a leisurely brunch—my dad would cook, Barrett and I would clean up—and then laze around the house for a few hours before he had to head home.

His parents weren’t nearly as welcoming. His house felt cold. Sterile. It was obvious his parents weren’t my biggest fans. I was too loud, too black, too middle-class to fit in with these stuffy rich people. My mom is first generation whereas their family has been here since the mid 1800’s. I was never good enough to associate with their precious baby boy.

To be fair, Barrett thought they were full of shit, too. He doesn’t get along well with them. He always defended me against their casual slights and slightly less casual racism. We spent considerably more time at my house than at his. He willingly came with me to all of my school dances. We had a good time. He’s a good dancer, didn’t shy away when they played a slow song, just pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. All of my friends thought we were dating. We weren’t. We were just good friends.

Our friendship has always been purely platonic. Not once did we ever kiss or come close to it. Not once did we ever do more than hug hello and goodbye. My parents had no issues with him staying over at our house. His new touchy-feely greetings are very much out of the ordinary for us, but I’m not complaining. I’m well aware my best friend is a good-looking guy. It would be rather difficult not to notice over the years. With his hair freshly cut and a few days’ worth of beard growing on his jaw… yeah, Barrett is fucking hot.

He is also so not into me, I can’t even consider going there. He’s going to wind up with some petite Chinese girl, someone with money and manners who knows which fork to use at dinner and can speak and write in both Mandarin and Cantonese. Someone who will be an asset to him in his accounting career and not a hindrance.

“You’re making friends fast,” Zoe says, and I’m not sure I like what she’s insinuating.

“They’re good guys.”

“Can you introduce us?” Louisa adds in.

I force out a laugh. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Chapter 4

Diana

Today is my last first day of school. I suppose I should feel more nervous or nostalgic. Instead I just feel kind of drained. The semester hasn’t even started yet ,and I’m already exhausted. I’m taking five classes this term—three for my dietetics major, two for my psychology major. None of my teammates are psychology majors. There’s a freshman that’s a dietetics and nutrition major, but we’ve already confirmed we don’t have any of the same classes.