Knox cocks his head and then reaches across the table to grab my hand. “Okay. I trust you.”
Talk about a knife to the heart. There’s almost nothing he could have said that would make me feel worse. I struggle to put a smile on my face. Briskly, I change the subject. “How are your classes going?”
“Good. It’s interesting, because I thought I’d get completely bored this year, knowing I wasn’t planning on graduating. Instead, the classes got more entertaining.”
“Are you rethinking your plan to declare early?” Knox had told me a week ago that Coach Lowe agreed that he should enter the draft after his junior year. The hype around his play is very high right now and there’s always the risk of playing another year of college ball. Knox can always go back and finish his last year of college. He might not ever have another chance at being drafted in the top ten, which is where he is currently projected.
“No. I want to play with the best and the best play at the next level,” he says simply. “It’s good that Coach supports me. If he didn’t, I guess I wouldn’t get to go early. Scouts rely on his assessment. He’s told them I’m mature enough to go early and that I can handle the extra responsibilities.”
The Warriors have sent several players to the NFL ever since Coach Lowe took over the program, so it’s not surprising that pro scouts rely on his word.
“I can’t believe his endorsement matters so much.” I wonder what Coach Lowe would say if he knew that Knox allowed me to shield Jack’s progress from him. Nothing good. I scowl into my basket of untouched food.
“It’s not just Coach. These scouts investigate everything about you, down to how many times you go see a trainer during the week, what you write on social media, which is why I don’t have any accounts, how many protein supplements you take. I heard that they even rate your girlfriends.”
I gawk at him as he nods in rueful agreement. “I know. It’s wrong. It’s part of their confidence calculation. If you have a hot girlfriend that means you’ve got the swagger you need to play pro ball.” He winks at me. “Don’t worry. You’re a ten.”
I can’t even muster up a smile at his compliment. “I guess when you’re looking at spending seventeen million plus, you want to make sure you’re getting your money’s worth.”
“That’s right. I’m not worried about it. I don’t have any character issues or skeletons in my closet. It’s all good.”
He holds his arms out wide in careless, happy abandon. I’m going to end up hurting everyone I care about.
27
Knox
Something is up with Ellie. I suspect it’s her brother and that he’s struggling with classes. But Coach gets everyone’s transcripts at midterms, so Campbell must still be eligible or he’d be on the bench. I’ll have to talk to Jack tomorrow, which will likely piss Ellie off, but it’s got to be done. I shouldn’t have let her take on that burden anyway. Coach put that on me, and I should have kept up with it like I did the other players.
But there’s no point in getting into it with her tonight. She’s pretending not to be upset, and given that she’s trying hard to put up a happy front, I don’t press her.
I do know one way to cheer her up for real though. “You want to stay over tonight?”
“I don’t know.” She bites her lower lip, the juicy one I like to suck on while I’m dragging my dick in slow motion in and out of her tight body.
“I’ll do all the work.” I wink at her, and when she rewards me with a slight smile, I figure I’m headed in the right direction.
She leans into me as we walk out of the rib joint; not a very Ellie thing to do. She likes to walk on her own two feet. On the one hand I’m thrilled she’s leaning on me. On the other? I’m a little worried. But I’ll take good care of her tonight. Matty’s in my apartment when we get back. “Oh, hey, thought you were eating?” He rises to great us.
“We were, but we’re back.” I jerk my head toward the door. Time to go, Matty Iverson.
“Hi, Matty.” Ellie gives him a weak finger wave but doesn’t move from the doorway until I give her a push.
“Bring anything for me?” he says hopefully.
Above Ellie’s head, I glare. Get out or the next time I see you, I’ll shove that bag of Doritos down your throat and you’ll be shitting Mylar for a week.
Matty’s self-preservation instincts kick in and he hops up. “Gotta go. Have a honey coming over tonight. Any recommendations on what I should wear, Ellie?”
He smooths his hand over his unruly black hair.
Ellie stares at him.
Awkwardly, he drops his hand. “Okay, I’m going now.”
What’s wrong? He mouths as he passes by.
I give a half shrug. I don’t know.
“Good luck,” he mutters under his breath as he closes the door.
“Tired, baby?” I ask when we’re alone. She lets me tug off her jacket and somehow remembers to toe off her own boots before collapsing on the sofa.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”