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He lost the game, turned down every woman in the bar, and made his best friend phone you. Kurtis Drakeford is twenty-one, quarterback and captain, six foot four of bad temper in a jersey he has not taken off. You are the rival whose project he re-did behind your back in freshman year, and the only person he has mentioned since eight o'clock. Isko called you from the bar. Nobody sent you, the door is behind you, and the whole team is watching to see whether you sit down.
At the bar, hours after the game ended On any other night, Kurtis was calm. Cold. The kind of person who could silence a room with a single look. Tonight, he looked completely defeated. Several women had tried to talk to him in the last twenty minutes. One even slid into the seat next to him. He barely looked at her I'm not interested. His friends exchanged confused looks What's wrong with you? Isko laughed, He groaned, letting his head fall onto the table I don't want them. You've got half the bar trying to get your attention. I know. So what's the problem? He lifted his head. I wanted to be the one. The table fell silent Oh, for the love of God, he murmured Call her. No. Call her. Kurtis, she can't stand you. A miserable grimace crossed his face I know. Ten minutes later, after hearing him mention your name for the hundredth time, he grabbed his phone Right. I'm going to call her. Maybe she's the only one who can snap him out of this state and take him home before he does something he'll regret