Chapter 22

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Camila

The entire common room is off their seat as Lauren drops back, firing a perfect spiral from the opposing team's fifteen-yard line, for an epic seventy-yard pass straight into Shawn's arms.

Hailee and I scream, jumping up and down, tangling our hands together.

"Come on, come on!"

Our eyes fly across the screen, snapping from right to left as he jukes defender after defender, and then he's jumping up, throwing his arms out just enough to pass the goal line. It's touchdown Pheonix High U.

We freak the fuck out, hugging and shouting and clapping.

"Holy shit, Mila! His first college touchdown!"

We grab our phones to take pictures as they go for a two-point conversion, officially taking the lead in the game with twenty seconds left on the clock.

We record a short video message, yelling and laughing as we spin, capturing the responses of the room around us, then quickly drop it into the group chat we have, so they don't miss our reactions.

Hailee pours us a shot and we throw it back, cheering as they get set to kick it off.

Hailee dances around, slipping close to whisper, "Let's get out of here before we get stuck helping them clean up."

"Good idea," I whisper back. "But first..." I slide over to the table, snagging a half-empty bottle, and together, we run down the hall.

"Yes, bitch!" Hailee calls, and as we're stepping into our room, the TV left on, the boys are taking the field in celebration of a win.

"Woo! Thank god. Lauren needed this."

"Ah, Lauren did, huh?" She wiggles her brows.

I flip her off, skipping into my bedroom, and pulling my suitcase out from under my bed. I drag it into the living room, dropping it beside hers on the couch.

"Yes, asshole. She needed a raise in spirit."

"Honey, you rose her spirit and something else too, trust that," she teases, fully aware our Sunday was more than the physical activities she lives to attribute everything to.

I bump my shoulder with hers. "Shut up bitch, what are you packing for the trip?"

"Ugh!" She falls onto the armchair. "Do we have to? Can't we get drunk together and talk shit like the good ol' days?"

Rolling my eyes, I spin, grab the bottle and take a swig, passing it to her next.

"Fuck yes!" She pushes our suitcases off the couch and jumps up on the cushion. Hailee swaps over to Spotify on the TV and we dance around, drinking and making up for all the time we've missed lately.

A half hour later, we're sitting on the floor, taking selfies, and scrolling through social media when my phone rings, my brother's name flashing across the screen.

"There he is!" We fumble with the screen, answering the FaceTime call to find the boys' sweaty faces, eye black smeared all down their cheeks.

"Fuck yes!" we scream, smiling wide enough to match theirs, and Carl and Harry wrap their arms around Shawn's neck.

"You saw our fuckin' boy?!" Harry howls. "He caught that son of a bitch with one hand!"

"Hell, yeah he did. That's the strong hand, isn't it, Shawn?" Hailee jokes.

Shawn dips his head with a laugh, and Carl playfully punches him in the chest.

"You know it," Shawn tells her, his eyes on me. "I got your message."

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