“Market research. Back when I was in high school, I took a class in free enterprise. I had to write a paper on how cereal companies choose where to place cereal on the shelves and became fascinated with the concept.”

“The sugary stuff at kid level, right?”

He nodded. “It’s genius when you think about it.”

“It is.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Too bad you won’t be able to use all that knowledge. You’ll be too busy playing football for many years to come.”

“Hopefully.”

“Not hopefully. You will. No defeatist attitude allowed, remember?”

“I’m not being defeatist, Taylor. I’m being a realist. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s better to be prepared just in case things don’t go your way.”

“If you work hard enough—”

“You’re still not guaranteed anything,” Jamar said. “No matter how hard you work to make something happen, there’s a chance that it won’t. That’s just life. Having a backup plan is smart.”

Her expression turned contemplative, as if she were taking stock of his words. After a moment, she shook her head and said, “So, marketing? Is that what you plan to do?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “My agent thinks I should join his sports management agency. He’s convinced I would be good at it.”

“Well, I know even less about what sports agents do than I know about football,” she said, amusement illuminating her brown eyes. “But I’m sure he’s right. After witnessing your determination in the gym, I’m convinced you’re the type of person who would kick ass at anything you set out to do.”

Jamar couldn’t conceal the stunned smile that stretched across his face. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“I call ’em how I see ’em.” She issued a teasing warning. “Don’t let it inflate that massive ego of yours.”

“You know my ego really isn’t that big,” Jamar said. “I’m only joking when I try to come across as this super arrogant kind of guy.”

“Nooo,” she said with feigned shock. She shoulder-bumped him again. “I know you’re only joking. You’re one of the good ones, Twenty-Three. I can tell.”

The sincerity reflected in her eyes triggered a reaction better left unexplored. Jamar swallowed past the sudden knot that formed in his throat, knowing he didn’t deserve her praise. She had no idea what kind of guy he was. The things he’d done. How he’d treated the person he’d called his best friend.

The simmering shame that had burned continuously in his gut for the past seven years flared to life. He quickly doused it, shoving the reminder of his long-ago sins to the recesses of his mind. He was in the process of righting his wrongs; harping on them would do him no good.