“What about afterwards?” he asked, not ready to let it go.

My gaze settled over his shoulder, landing on the fridge. Photos of me scoring goals and Teresa dancing covered almost the entire door. “I don’t know, Dad.”

“Can’t fail unless you try,” he said, drinking deep.

My brows knitted. “Isn’t that you can’t succeed if you don’t try?”

“Does it matter?” He flashed a grin. “Cam, you’re a damn good player. Soccer is, or at least, was a passion. We have videos to send to coaches. And you know the coach at Shepherd would help you take new ones.”

“I know.” I sighed, shaking my head slowly. “And I keep up my workouts and practice with the guys when I can, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe next year, when I’m about to graduate . . .”

“Uh-huh.” His gaze was shrewd. “Cameron . . . Cameron . . .”

Yakking on about soccer was hard for me. Wasn’t like a future playing was completely out of the question. That was why I kept up the training, but there was nothing I could do about right now.

“Is there a young lady in your life now?” he asked.

Perhaps I should’ve let him ask about soccer. “Dad . . .”

“What?” He smiled again and then finished off the beer. “I like to have the four-one-one on my son’s life.”

My head dropped back. “Four-one-one? Are you drunk?”

“I’m buzzing.”

I laughed out loud. “Nice.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Reaching for the bottle, I eyed my father and then laughed at myself, because I knew what the words that were forming on my tongue were before I spoke them. “There’s . . . there’s someone.”

“Do tell.” Interest sparked in his eyes.

I smiled as I took the last gulp from the bottle. “We’re friends.”

“Friends as in . . .”

“Oh, come on, Dad.” I groaned, shaking my head.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side. “Like I don’t know what you kids are doing. Like I didn’t do the same thing when I was your age.”

I might vomit. “We’re not like that. Avery isn’t like that.”

“She has a name? Avery?”

Shit. I couldn’t believe I even said her name. Was I buzzing? “We’re friends, Dad. And she’s a . . . she’s . . .”

Dad’s dark brows rose. “She’s . . . ?”

Perfect. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Prideful. Infuriating. The list could go on and on. “I’ve asked her out a couple of times.” A “couple of times” was literally the understatement of the year. “She’s turned me down each time.”

“And you keep asking?”

I nodded.

“And you think she’s going to say yes eventually?”

Smiling a little, I nodded again.

Dad leaned forward, crossing his arms on the round, oak table. “Did I ever tell you how many times your mother turned me down before she agreed to go out me? No? A lot of times.”

“Really?” I hadn’t known that.

Dad nodded. “I was a bit of a . . . rakehell in college. Had a reputation.” One side of his mouth tipped up, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. “Your mother didn’t make it easy.”

“So what changed it?”

He shrugged. “Ah, she was secretly in love with me from the beginning, but you know what? I had to chase her, and to be honest, if you don’t have to chase a woman, she’s probably not worth the effort. You get what I’m saying?”

Not really. There was a good chance my dad was more than just buzzing, but I nodded, and then he said something that sort of clicked in my head.

“Surprise,” he said, winking. “Surprise the girl. Do something she’s not expecting. Always do something good she’s not expecting.”

Surprise her? There were a lot of things I could do that would surprise Shortcake, but I doubted he meant any of those things. But as I said good night to Dad and started toward the stairs, I knew what to do.

And I wanted to do it.

I smiled as I took the steps two at a time. As I rounded the second floor, I caught sight of Teresa slipping into her bedroom. I opened my mouth to call out to her, but the door closed quietly before I could utter a word.

Okay.

Shaking my head, I continued on to the guest bedroom Jase was in—the green room. Or at least that’s what Mom called it, because the walls were painted a deep olive green.

The door was cracked and I pushed it open. Jase sat at the foot of the bed, bent forward slightly, his arms resting on his thighs, hands over his face.

“Hey, man.” I entered the room, concerned. Had something happened back home? “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he said, standing up and smoothing both hands through his hair. He walked over to where his duffel bag was and pulled out a pair of nylon shorts. “I’m just not feeling . . . well. Beer didn’t settle right, you know? What’s up?”

Hadn’t he only drunk like two beers? I watched him toss the shorts on the bed, his back a tense, rigid line. “I was thinking about a change of plans.”

“Oh, yeah?” He moved to the nightstand, dug out his cell and dropped it there. “What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking about leaving really early in the morning,” I told him. “Probably close to five or so. Is that cool with you?”

His shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, man, that works perfectly. Just wake me up.”

“Cool.” I backed up and stopped at the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect,” he replied, sitting down on the bed again. “See you in the morning.

As I shut the door behind me, I realized Jase hadn’t looked me in the face the whole time I was in there.

It was a little before nine a.m. the following morning when I stopped in front of Avery’s apartment and knocked. Hopefully my dad’s advice of “surprising her” didn’t equate to “freaking her out.”

Doubt rose swiftly, like fire to a stick house, and I turned around, about to dive-bomb into my apartment. But the door whipped open like she was trying to pull it off its hinges.

“Cam?”

Taking a deep breath, I faced her and smiled crookedly. I held up a grocery bag. “So, I woke up around four this morning and thought I could really eat some eggs. And eggs with you are so much better than eggs with my sister or my dad. Plus my mom made pumpkin bread. I know how you like pumpkin bread.”

Eyes wide and lips parted, she slowly stepped aside, allowing me in. She wasn’t freaking. That much was good. But she also wasn’t saying anything. I carried the bag into the kitchen and placed it on the counter. Closing my eyes, I cursed under my breath. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. That ache was back in my chest, this time a different, piercing feeling.

I pivoted around, about to apologize when I hadn’t apologized for any other time I’d busted up into her apartment, but she was in the kitchen, practically airborne. Coming at me the way Teresa had when she greeted me. The same way my sister had launched herself at Jase.

I caught her, wrapping my arms around her waist as I stumbled back, hitting the counter. Shock radiated through me, quickly followed by a wild warmth that lit up my veins.

My arms tightened around her as she pressed her cheek to my chest and held on just as strongly as I held her. I dropped my face to the top of her head, inhaling her scent and soaking her response in, holding her close to my heart.

Avery inhaled a shaky breath and said, “I missed you.”

Thirteen

A cold snap hit our little speck of the world right before Halloween. Chilly air whipped through the campus, creating a sheer, frigid wind tunnel between the buildings.

Jase was staring at Ollie with a dumbfounded expression on his face. As cold as it was, Ollie was wearing shorts and sandals. At least he had a hoodie on, but I doubted he wore anything other than that. Or even felt the wind.

But Shortcake was a different story.

The four of us stood in between Whitehall and Knutti, waiting for the next class to begin. She was hunkered down in her sweater that was fitted to her slim waist and the flare of her hips.