An older man wearing a red university polo laid a hand on Derrick’s arm as he walked by and said something to him that made him frown. Derrick subtly moved so the man’s hand fell away, and I had the oddest urge to go defend my gentleman pain in the butt. He glanced back at me with a smile, then continued on to get the drinks.

The whole exchange lasted maybe thirty seconds, but it piqued my interest. I shifted my attention from Derrick to the other guy and found him staring at me. The calculating gleam in his eyes reminded me why I’d avoided this place after that semester here.

The students were commodities, meant to be used in whatever way best served the university. At the time, I’d removed myself from the equation, but these athletes didn’t really have that option. Derrick certainly didn’t if he planned to join the NFL as everyone speculated.

The older guy broke first, collecting his cup and leaving through a far entrance. I wondered if he purposefully avoided Derrick’s path back to our table on his way out.

My gaze returned to Derrick as he loomed in front of me. Instead of taking the seat across the table, he sat close enough that our arms bumped. Goosebumps rose across my skin, but I didn’t hate it.

“Who was that older guy who stopped you?”

He glanced at the now empty table. “My head coach.”

I hesitated when Derrick didn’t offer anything more. His tone said he didn’t want to talk about it, so I changed the subject by pointing at his overflowing plate.

“There’s no way that much food can be good for you.”

“Hey, no food shaming. I need all these calories. You’ll see.” He raised a brow at me and shoved a huge forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“Would this be in the surprise portion of our afternoon?”

He set his fork down, swallowed, and licked some red sauce off his lower lip. I took a sip of my drink to hopefully hide the blush I felt crawling up my neck.

“No surprise. I’m going to show you what a normal Monday is like for me.”

“Give me the short version so I know what to expect.”

I tried to listen with an open mind as he explained, and I gained some sympathy for him. Morning workout, classes, lunch, watching tape, practice, team meetings… he couldn’t even start his schoolwork until after eight most nights.

No wonder he always seemed tired at the beginning of class.

Derrick turned out to be a funny lunch companion. While we ate, he kept me entertained with stories of him and his sister getting into trouble in their youth, and somehow, he got me to open up about my home life. Growing up in foster care wasn’t something I talked about to most people.