There’s nothing I feel like doing more than collapsing in a heap on the floor, so I do the opposite. I drop my bags in the small entryway that runs between the kitchen and living room and head right back outside without venturing farther in the house. I’ve been wearing athletic clothes all day anyway.

My sneaker-clad feet pound the pavement, expelling some of the emotion simmering with each slap against cement. I veer left, heading onto Lancaster’s ivy-covered campus. I run faster than I mean to, the burn of my calves and blur of brick buildings the only indications of my speed. Campus is deserted. There aren’t any tours or summer classes being held this late in the day, and those are the only events happening around here this time of year.

It’s just me and the scampering squirrels.

I run all the way past the pond to the athletic complex and sports fields, only stopping when I reach the edge of the soccer field I’ve spent my college career playing on. I vault over the hip-high chain-link fence onto the turf that comprises the rectangular space. It’s a familiar walk out to the center of the field, and I flop down once I reach the heart of the pitch.

I ran for longer than I realized, because dusk has begun to fall, shading the sky in streaks of tangerine, magenta, fuchsia, and lilac. I stare upward for so long my eyes lose focus and the sunset twirls together like a swirl of sherbet.

My grumbling stomach forces me vertical. Rather than hop over the fence again, I opt for the gate, walking along the path and around the bleachers to head back through campus.

“Saylor!”

I turn to see Kyle Andrews walking toward me from the sports complex. There’s one SUV in the parking lot, which must belong to him.

“Hey, Kyle.” I pause in place.

He flashes me a goofball grin. Kyle’s known for taking nothing seriously, but he’s got enough raw athletic talent to be considered my male equivalent on the men’s team. Minus the national championship. “How was Scholenberg?”

“It was amazing,” I reply honestly.

“Yeah, I bet. When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago,” I reply. “How about you? Thought you guys start preseason next week, like us?”

“Yeah, a few of us came back early to chill before the torture starts.” He gives me a sly smile. “Including Tim. Who hasn’t shut up about you, by the way.”

“Aren’t you violating the bro code right now?” I reply.

Kyle shrugs. “Who cares.”

Our similarities extend off the field, I guess.

“Why don’t you come over later?” Kyle offers.

“Rain check?” I request. “I’m battling a serious case of jet lag.”

“Yet you’re out running?”