Tristan POV
The frat house basement smelled like stale beer and cheap cologne, the kind of place where half the conversations started with “bro” and ended in laughter. I was sprawled on the worn leather couch, stick tape still stuck to my fingers from practice, surrounded by the usual crowd—Liam nursing a protein shake, a couple of defensive linemen arguing over last night’s highlights on the big screen, and a few others scrolling their phones. I wasn’t in the mood for any of it. The tunnel kiss from last night kept replaying in my head over and over again.
One of the linemen—a big guy named Rico with a jaw like a brick—leaned forward from his chair, grinning like he’d been waiting for an opening.
“Alright, Hale. Real talk. What’s actually going on with you and that Juniper girl? The w
