Maverick

My brain pounded against my skull, dehydration danced along my tongue, begging for water. Coach didn’t need to know I’d drank the night before, so I sucked it up and pushed through the pain.

When he called practice, I nearly guzzled the entire gallon of water on the sidelines. Jordan snorted, shoving his shoulder into mine. “Looking thirsty, Booker. What’s wrong?”

Jordan laid down on his back, hands behind his neck while stretching. “You looked pretty cozy with Josie last night. Do you break all your girlfriends’ furniture?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Jordan rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of girls,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Why was Waverly in our apartment? She’s not worth your time.”

Jordan wiggled his brows. “She was a pretty good waste of time last night.”

I huffed. “Whatever—,”

Jordan sat up on his elbows. “You jealous, Booker? Maybe if you’d treat Josie nicely, she’d give you some—,”

“Piss off,” I said. “I can get Josie if I want.” Which wa