Unfortunately, Derrick was insanely busy during the football season. I went to lunch in the training center every day because sometimes that was the only way I could see him. On our nights together, he only lasted a couple of hours before he started yawning and I sent him home. We always met at my place—he claimed his roommates would destroy any alone time we carved out. Having spent day after day eating lunch with the guys, I understood. I still wasn’t convinced Soren went to a single class.

Without realizing it, I started looking forward to my time with them, all of them. Derrick—and his friends—became important in my life. The thought scared me, but I treasured the connections all the same.

Not that I’d tell them that while they tortured me with nicknames.

“Nay Nay.” Mac held his arms out with a big smile while Eva made a buzzer noise as she pushed her way into the booth next to me.

“No. Absolutely not.” She winked at me, and not for the first time, I was glad Derrick had introduced us.

Mac leaned on his big hand and pouted. “Why not? It’s been weeks, she needs a nickname.”

“She has a nickname,” Derrick grumbled.

“Yeah, I’m not calling her your little love name. We’ll keep workshopping.”

Eva rolled her eyes, but Mac ignored her to focus on me. “When are you coming to watch us play, baby girl?”

I shook my head. “I’m older than you, Mac. And baby girl is diminutive. You can do better.”

He snorted, but wisely didn’t argue. The others dug into their food, and I pushed carrots around on my plate. I felt the heat of Derrick’s gaze on me and looked up to find him frowning at my lack of an appetite.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and shoved a carrot in my mouth. He didn’t look convinced, but as usual, he took me at my word. That was part of the problem. As much as my newfound friendships sometimes gave me hives when I thought about them too closely, Derrick’s brand of friendship created a different set of issues.

I’d told him only studying, and he’d listened. Derrick gave me a sweet kiss every time he saw me and every time he left my apartment, he touched me whenever he had the chance, but not in any way that satisfied me. Affection and respect were all well and good, but I needed more, or my vagina was going to mutiny.

That fucking sexy moment we’d shared on the phone haunted me. I burned for a repeat. I wanted to talk to him about it, but I didn’t relish an audience listening in while I begged to get him naked for a night of multiple orgasms. Or a day. I wasn’t picky.