"No, Coach." He sized me up and down. "Personal trainer, hmm?" His look of approval made three summer months worth the pain. "Work on your legs or tan by the pool this summer?" "Worked, sir." I smiled at his weird-ass humor. "Three months, weights and CrossFit six times a week. Feels good. I'm ready to work." Mason punished me with his high-intensity, interval-training workout for athletes. I hated every second, but the results spoke for themselves. Poor eating was an issue with Mom's hazmat-level cooking skills. Brody and I weren't any better, limited to a microwave. Most salads tasted like yard clippings. "Peachy. We need everything you've got," he said in a grim tone. "I want you out of the pocket more. Can't always throw to Josh." I nodded. As with most conversations between me and Coach, this one was one-sided. "No funny business this year, Hightower. Conditioning starts at six." I groaned at the early start. "Five minutes." He patted my chest, then turned to another coach I also aimed to impress. Offensive Coordinator and QB Coach Burnell shook my hand, then walked to the bus with Coach Williams. Alone, I turned to the one reasonable friend to help with Ellie. "Why do you smell like burnt eggs?" Josh wrinkled his nose. "Did your mom try to cook again?" "Unfortunately." I gave him our bro handshake, with the hand slaps and fist bumps that started when we were thirteen. "Hey, man." He shoved his phone screen in my face. "You need to see this." "Don't tell me some random girl texted you topless again." If my kidding was true then Josh would've gotten an ass-chewing send-off from Ava. "No." He scowled. "I'm not you." If I earned a nickel for every pair of boobs flashed at me, in person or in pictures, then I could afford college without football. But… on the other hand, if someone posed topless for me, then wouldn't it be rude not to appreciate the effort? "This." Josh's eyes narrowed. "Did you see this?" My teasing smile faded. His phone showed a website, anonymous, but we all knew the source was within the team. My cheeks tingled as the blood drained out from a hauntingly familiar picture: Chloe. There she was, two years younger and reminding me how much I fucking failed that sweet, gentle girl. How I fucked up our relationship in six weeks. The same photo was my phone background. Every time a girl flashed interest in me, Chloe reminded me that I was better off alone. Seeing it on Josh's phone flared my nostrils until the skin on the bridge of my nose stretched. Past emotions, painful ones, resurfaced from my failure at being a decent human. My stomach filled with guilt and my teeth clenched. "What the hell is this!?" Despite the anger heating my skin, I kept cool with a slow, exaggerated breath. "Who posted it this time?" "No idea." Josh pocketed his phone. "I thought you'd want to know." Fuck, this was bad. So, so bad. Again!? Irritation slipped into my voice. "Again, wasn't me." "But you never apologized." The know-it-all was right. My biggest asshole move was that I never apologized to Chloe or any girl I used. Chloe wasn't my first mistake, but she married me to football. Being the heartbreaker asshole wasn't as glamorous as it sounded. "I'm going to beat the shit out of whoever started up unnecessary drama again," I mumbled. His eyebrows raised. "Calm down, Harrison. Incoming." "Hey," I grumbled at Jackson, Christian, and Sebastian. With Coach twenty yards away, I couldn't diss them into place, but my conversation with Josh wasn't over. "Bros!" Jackson, a leaner version of Bryce with jet-black hair, skin more tan than humanly possible, and a crooked grin he thought was attractive, stepped in line with me and Josh. Bryce returned with a smirk and gleam in his eyes. "Any new hits this week?" "Not from me," I said. "Lame, bro." He shrugged. "One less loser." The team minus me and Josh had this stupid game, an inside competition. Different girls' attributes scored them with more or fewer points. The winner was who earned the most by the end of the season. Jackson pulled out his phone. "Pics or it didn't happen." Were we assholes? Yep. Did I start the game? Nope. Had I played it? Unfortunately. For some reason, Chloe's picture was circulated throughout school. She was branded with names that she wasn't and I got unfairly blamed for the fallout. If I hadn't asked Chloe for her picture, then it wouldn't have been on my phone. But I didn't distribute it outside the team. Jackson rammed his phone, with a picture of a flat-chested girl in all her glory, in my face. His pesky seagull whine grated on my ears. "Mine from last night. Olivia." I shoved his phone away. Not what I wanted to see, or Josh because Ava collected him into her arms and squealed, "'Bye, babe!" My eyes almost rolled out of my head during their goodbye kissing-session. I yanked him away when Coach frowned in his direction. Fuck, they couldn't go an hour without sucking each other's faces off. Pathetic. Still, Josh was the one guy to help me with Ellie. I needed all the help I could get. "So… Last night?" he asked from our bus queue spot. "You're not smiling, so I assume your charm -" "She sliced right through that." My chest heaved with a loud sigh. "Shocker." He laughed. "So, are you licking your wounds and moving on?" "I don't want to." One of his hands grabbed my shoulder. "Just don't like her too much, okay?" I gave him a wary look. "What do you mean?" How could the one guy in a long-term committed relationship, who one minute ago sucked his girlfriend's mouth like an oxygen source, think that I liked a girl too much? "Last thing we need is some chick fucking up your head," he replied with a frown. I didn't need to ask. He worried about recruiters. Football was our ticket into college and we intended to cash it in. This season's team performing like last season meant a free ride. All the more reason to get whatever edge up on Santa Cruz we could. "Not going to happen." Josh's scowl looked unconvinced. "She's not 'some chick.' She -" Bryce hopped into our conversation. "What about a chick fucking?" Of course, those were the only words his brain picked up. "Logan's new target." Josh's half-smile earned him my glare. "He's totally pussy-whipped." "Woah. A new target, you? I'll give it five days to close, bro." Bryce shook his head. "No, ten. You're rusty."