“I was fifteen when I wrote that. You can’t just break into people’s personal property,” he argued.

“When I think about coming inside of you, I get hard as a baseball bat,” I added. “I will say your dirty talk has improved.” He finally shook his head and started to get out of the bed. I watched his back as he walked into the bathroom, and I snuck one last look at his tight end, then looked down at my own phone.

Two new texts. One from my mom and one from Shelby. Shelby wanted to know why I didn’t come home last night—she made sure to include a suggestive winky face. My mom was still seething about Lacey implying that she looked over fifty. Apparently, Lacey slipped some samples into her mailbox. I didn’t bother replying to Shelby, and I had just sent a reply to my mom, telling her where Lacey could stick it, when Oakley came back out looking ready for practice. I didn’t know what football players wore to practice, so I was just guessing.

“Ready?” I asked.

“I’m going to practice. But only because I need to have a conversation with Coach. I don’t want or need a fucking publicist.”

“Your legs are as long—”

“Enough with the teenage poetry. I was fifteen. Fifteen! Let’s go,” he replied, looking pissed and still a little confused. Since Oakley lived in an apartment on campus, the practice stadium was only about a five-minute walk. As we were walking out of his building, I debated whether or not I could trust him to get himself to practice.

“Do I need to make sure you get to practice, or are you capable of getting there on your own?” I asked. I mean, there was only so much trouble he could get into at the ass crack of dawn, and I had to get back to my place so I could shower and get ready for my own classes.

“I think I can handle it,” he growled. “I’m feeling pretty motivated to talk to the coach. I think he should know about the girl that broke into my apartment and started blackmailing me.”

I grinned. “You invited me over last night, don’t you remember?” I watched him scowl as he tried to recall the moments leading up to this instant. “And yes, please do. Also, be sure to mention that I got you scheduled with the physical therapist for this afternoon. I saw that he’s been trying to get you to talk to the specialist about your shoulder, and booked you an appointment online. Their online scheduling system is very convenient.”

He fumed, and the vein in his forehead throbbed. “You’re fucking insane. And I’m too hungover to do something about it right now, but I will get to the bottom of this. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”