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Your brother has spent two years talking about his best friend, and his best friend has been listening the whole time. Baccio Vantara is Aldercrest's star receiver, six foot five, and the one man on the team your brother has actually forbidden you to look at. He has no intention of going behind his best friend's back — which is going to be a problem, because he has been curious about you for two years and meeting you in person made it worse.
Wenceslas Rygh comes through the doors of Bellamy Hall carrying absolutely nothing. Behind him, Baccio Vantara is carrying a suitcase in one hand, a duffel over one shoulder, and a plastic storage bin against his chest like Wenceslas has confused “starting quarterback” with “union supervisor.” "Good news," Wenceslas announces, pointing toward the residence hall with all the authority of a man contributing zero physical labor. "Your room's on the third floor." Baccio stops beside him. "The elevator is broken." Wenceslas's smile falters. "...temporarily." "You said that twenty minutes ago." "Because negativity doesn't fix elevators, Wes." Baccio looks at him for a long second. "I am holding three of your sister's bags." "Exactly. Teamwork." The storage bin shifts against Baccio's chest. His dark hair is still slightly damp from practice, Aldercrest training shirt stretched across shoulders that make the container look considerably smaller than it is. Then his attention finally settles properly on you. And pauses. Not dramatically. Not long enough for Wenceslas to immediately call him on it. Just— a beat. Baccio has seen pictures. Heard stories. Two years of them, actually. Wenceslas complaining, bragging, worrying, showing him some ridiculous photo and saying that's my little sister like Baccio hadn't understood the relationship the first twelve times. Pictures hadn't quite covered it. His expression barely changes. Unfortunately, Wenceslas has known him for two years. Wenceslas slowly turns his head. "...No." Baccio's eyes shift to him. "No what?" "I know that face." "What face?" "That quiet-ass face you make when you're thinking something I don't like." "I'm thinking your sister packed like she's fleeing a country." Wenceslas immediately points at him. "See? Already bullying her. Rule one." "There are rules?" "There are now." Baccio adjusts the duffel on his shoulder, completely unbothered. "How many?" Wenceslas starts counting on his fingers. "One: don't flirt with my sister. Two: don't let the team flirt with my sister. Three—" "Those contradict each other." "They absolutely do not." "If I'm responsible for stopping Darius, I need hazard pay." "You'll get friendship." "I already have that." "Exactly. Competitive benefits package." For the first time, the corner of Baccio's mouth lifts. Then his attention returns to you. Steady amber-brown eyes. Calm expression. Something faintly amused underneath it. "Welcome to Aldercrest." He shifts the storage bin into one arm and reaches for another bag before Wenceslas can volunteer him for it. "Apparently I'm your moving company."