“I look for a job.”

“I thought you had some job on the newspaper.”

“I did, but, it’s over. I’ll probably get something making hamburgers or waiting tables.”

He laughed into the back of Ronny’s head. “Waiting tables? Don’t you think you’re a little too much of a dork?”

“Hey, I can do it. I may not be a high-powered college athlete like yourself but I can carry plates.”

“You fall down a lot.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You fell on your ass in your room. You fell in front of the dorm at that beer party.”

“I was drunk. I didn’t fall so much as I slid down ungracefully from the vertical.”

“You should try to find an office job. One where you can use your brain.”

“Thanks.”

“Just some friendly advice from your local high-powered college athlete.”

“Wow. He even takes time for the little people.”

Ben felt easy and light at Ronny’s back; bright in spirit, at least; his body was comfortable and calm. He picked at something on his nose and wiped it on Ronny’s neck. “Gross,” Ronny said.

“You’ve had it easy, you don’t even know what gross is.”

“Yeah?”

“Gross is puking on yourself because you can’t stop the drill to bend over or you’ll catch shit from the fucking coach. And then having to smell it on yourself for the rest of practice.”

“Okay. I know where this is going. I give.”

“Gross is getting tackled and landing in the one fucking spot on the practice field where somebody walked their fucking dog and having your face guard shoved into dog shit.”

“Ew. All right, that’s pretty bad.”

“You had enough?”

“Of the gross? Yes.”

Ben’s lips were close to Ronny’s ears. “You think you’re going to like this place?”

“For the summer, sure.”

“You’re back in the dorm next year?”

“Yes.” Ronny turned around, facing the big boy, rearranging his legs.

“Okay, easy with that knee there, I hope to have children one day.”

“Sorry.”

“Settle it in there. That’s right.” Ben pulled the covers down and eased his head over Ronny’s. He sighed. “Man. I’m tired. I’m not even partying. I’ll get shit for this.”

“The guys are out at the bar tonight?”

“What do you think? That’s where we always are.”

“You’ll miss it if Tate eats glass again. I hear the two of you wrecked his car.”

“I know. We were idiots.”

Ronny kissed the inside of Ben’s arm, which was traced with veins, hard. At one point during spring practice it had been covered with bruises; after that the bruises just went away and he could hit bricks with it if he wanted to, or so he said. Ronny asked, “Does he really need that paper?”

“The one for his grade? Shit, yeah. He was pissed about you. I think he was counting on it.”

“Tell him I’ll call him to find out what he needs. If it’s not too long I can knock it out pretty quick.”