Chapter 20

Bo gathered his offensive coaches to discuss first impressions. Mike Bolton, the line coach, was gushing about their parking lot find, Wooga Nash.

“That boy makes Bear and Cub look like children. He hit the sled so hard that the impact almost knocked me off it. I can’t wait to see him drive-block some defensive lineman. Wooga’s going to kill him.”

“How big is he?” Mark Trent, the offensive coordinator, asked.

“Six-eight, three-ninety-five, and the boy can move. When we first saw him, he was playing pickup basketball and running full court,” Mike said. “Cub says he saw him dunking.”

“Anyone else impress you?” Bo asked.

“Jim Ball moving from tackle to center shows he’s put the work in since his transfer. I know I penciled him in as a starter, but it’s good to see the Alabama transfer has made the change without losing anything,” Mike said. “He’s responded well to the coaching, and I think he’s going to have a good season.”

“How about receivers?” Bo asked.

“Before I talk about them, I want to discuss an issue I’m having with Dawson. I’d like to nip it in the bud before it becomes a problem,” Dale said.

Bo saw Amy Stackhouse, special teams coach and resident psychologist, lean forward, and Mark frown. Bud Mason, Bo’s special advisor, sat stone-faced.

Bo knew he was going to regret entertaining this, but asked anyway.

“What has David done?”

“He’s coaching up the receivers. I was trying to ease them into the first day, and he went off about how the routes were being run. He needs to mind his own damned business and let me do what I do. I don’t need interference from some kid who only took a quarter of the snaps last year,” Dale said.

Amy smiled, grabbed Mark’s wrist, and shook her head. Bo took that to mean she wanted to see the confrontation play out in practice.

“David was redshirted; that’s the sole reason he had only a quarter of the snaps. And I’ll point out that USC won every game he started. But that said, I pay you to coach, and I expect you to coach,” Bo said.

Dale seemed pleased. Bo wondered how that would work out for him come the end of the day.

Before practice, David received a message from someone he didn’t know, and it caused him to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Phil asked.

David showed it to him.

’May I tie your shoe? Because I can’t have you fall for anyone else.’

“That’s bad,” Phil admitted.

David sent back a frowny-face emoji.

’If I said I worked for UPS, would you let me handle your package?’

David showed his brother.

“You suck,” Phil said as he left to get his ankles taped.

David sent one back.

’Do you make deliveries?’

’Any time. Any place.’

David said he would be in his dorm room after practice. He would see how resourceful she was—well, he hoped it was a she—by first finding which dorm and then her ability to get past the front desk. If it was someone on the list, it would be easy. Someone new would have to talk their way inside.

He sent a message to Galen Roby—Alex’s security—to warn him what might happen so there wouldn’t be an incident. Finding your dream girl face down with a security guy’s knee in the middle of her back was probably a deal-breaker.

David had several opportunities at practice to get on players about not executing. He held off because this week was about letting the depth-chart guys get their shot. The starters looked the part because they’d gotten the reps over the last few years.

His encouraging backups made Coach Chumney’s body language look out of whack for some reason. David ignored him for now, but he would talk to Coach Stackhouse later to see what was wrong.

By the end of practice, a couple of skill players showed improvement over what David remembered. If this were kept up, it would help USC’s depth, and maybe a few would crack the starting lineup.

When David got to the dorm, he found Chloe perched on the couch, waiting for him.

“Where’s Alex?”

“He’s downstairs, eating,” Chloe said.

“Why aren’t you with him?” David asked.

Chloe smiled in response. That told him the mystery girl had come into the coffee shop, and Chloe had told her he was single. Chloe obviously wanted a front-row seat to see how her matchmaking efforts worked out.

“I’m going down to eat,” David said.

Chloe frowned and shook her head; he had to give her credit for not talking. David simply nodded and went to his room. He did a quick check to make sure nothing potentially incriminating had been left out in the open. Tracy had taken care of most of that when she picked up her stuff, but he did have a towel draped over his chair. He grabbed that and threw it into the laundry basket.

He’d worked on his sexy playlist, so he docked his phone and kicked it off. The first song was Earned It by The Weeknd. He slowly did his runway walk out to Chloe, who gave him a big grin.

“Oh yeah, baby, David has his sexy on,” Chloe said as he began to dance for her.

She giggled when he turned his back to her, bent over, and shook his butt. That was when the door opened, and Alex was standing there with Tori Rankin, Alpha Mu’s newest pledge. He was glad to see she no longer had orange hair; it had been washed out. She was back to her put-together blond-bombshell self.

Tori didn’t miss a beat as she stepped over and began to dance with him. She was hotter than a five-dollar Rolex. That was why he loved cheerleaders; both Brook and Tracy could dance. While he wasn’t sure Tori had been one, she could move.

Alex and Chloe enjoyed the show until the song ended.

“I haven’t eaten. Do you want to go to the cafeteria or out somewhere?” David asked.

“Tonight’s Italian. I had the lasagna, but I saw several people eating the chicken pesto,” Alex said.