Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
But also…
Where was the fun in that?
“Uh, is this the right place for Physio 203?”
My hand snapped to lock my phone as I looked up at the open classroom doorway.
A guy was poking his head in now, looking a little lost and confused.
“Scared me,” I said, taking a breath.
“Shit. Sorry, man,” he said. “You looked pretty focused. Just wanted to check if this was the right class. I don’t really get this campus yet.”
“Don’t sweat it. Physio 203 is what I’m here for,” I told the guy, nodding. “Guess we’re the early birds.”
Luckily the surprise had made my cock go down. I sat up straight, acting calm and sliding my phone back into my shorts.
The guy walked in, giving me a broad smile. “Sick tattoos, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ve gotten a lot more ink this year, actually. Gives me a little boost every time someone compliments my tattoos.”
“You’ve got some great art for sure,” he said.
There was something familiar about the guy’s face, but I didn’t know what. He was utterly jacked, with his arm muscles on display in a loose tank top that said Party Professional in neon pink on the front.
“I’m Jesse,” I told him.
He gave me another sunny smile and shook my hand. “I’m Andrew. Nice to meet you.”
“Glad I’m not the only one here anymore.”
“I’m so bad at finding classes. Can’t believe I’m early,” he said, taking the seat next to mine and sliding off his backpack. “Practice was a fucking bitch this morning.”
“You’re an athlete?”
“Eat, sleep, and dream football,” he said with a nod. “I’m a wide receiver.”
“How come we haven’t met?” I asked. “I’ve partied with most of the football team before.”
“Transferred in. I’m only starting this year,” he said.
“Wait. No. I have seen you before,” I said. “Were you at the Hard Spot Saloon last night? The summer kickoff party?”
“Fuck yeah, bro,” he said, smiling again and reaching out to give me a fist bump. “You were there?”
“The bar owner is my brother,” I said. “Kane.”
“Last night was fun. Did you see the guy who did the table chug?” he said.
I bit back a smile. Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.
“The guy in the handstand? Yes,” I said. “That would be Mason.”
“You know him, too?” Andrew said. “I want to be friends with that dude. That was some badass shit.”
“He was definitely the star of the show,” I said.
Tasted pretty nice later, too.
Andrew continued. “I’m besties with a bartender there. Max. He’s been getting me to check out the Hard Spot lately since I transferred. It’s a really chill place.”
“I swear my brother came out of the womb with the keys to a bar in his hands,” I told him. “He runs that place like it's his own child.”
Andrew snorted a laugh. “Max says Kane’s a great boss. Intimidating, I guess, but a good dude. Are you an athlete too?”
“Hockey.”
“Ah, gotcha, man,” Andrew said, nodding kindly before turning back to the front whiteboards. “Hockey’s wild. I don’t know how anybody does anything on those skates.”
“Been doing it since I was a kid. Skating’s as easy as walking.”
Andrew tapped a pen on the top of his desk. His leg was bouncing under the desk, too, and I could tell how nervous he was.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m screwed in this class,” Andrew said. “I’m so bad with memorizing. I heard we have to learn the name of every bone in the body? Fucking yikes.”
“It’ll be okay. They should give us plenty of time to study,” I told him. I watched as he pulled out a laptop, navigated to the online syllabus for the class, and looked at it like it was a terrifying predator about to strike.
“Shit. Five tests? This is a summer class,” he murmured. “I thought it’d be easier.”
“Sometimes summer courses can be more intense, actually. I’ll help you with anything you need. For classes like this, flash cards are your friend.”
“You’re down to help me out?” he said, turning to me with renewed hope in his expression. He pulled in a breath. “That would be huge.”
Andrew explained how college was really starting to freak him out now that he’d transferred to TNU. He’d always been focused on football, but in the final stretch, he knew he had to get better grades before graduation. As we talked, I could tell he had plenty of intelligence, but probably just prioritized being a party professional over studying a bit too often.
Ten minutes later, the classroom had filled up after more and more students trickled in. A few people I knew spotted me in the front row, and they gave me fist bumps, high-fives, or complimented last season’s games.
“Dang. You’re hockey royalty, aren’t you?” Andrew joked.
I thought of this morning’s practice, wishing I’d lived up to that title in any way.