“Hey, man, are you coming to the party tonight?” Jason, a guy who plays on the field with me, asks as we head out of the classroom.

“I’m not sure yet.” Honestly, I probably won’t. While I’ve never minded a party here or there, I’m starting to grow tired of them. Plus, Callie’s not a huge fan. And between jobs, school, and practices, we don’t have a lot of free time, so every ounce of free time we get, we try to spend it together. “Probably not.”

He rolls his eyes. “You never come, man. What’s up with that?”

I shrug as I dig my phone from out of my pocket as it buzzes. “I’m just not that in to parties.”

He walks with me as I make a right down the crowded hallway, heading for the exit doors. “You sure that’s all it is?”

“Yeah. What else would it be about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something else.”

I just start to read the incoming message, which is from Seth, but the insinuation in his tone causes me to glance up at him. “If you want to say something, just spit it out.”

Jason has never been my favorite person. He’s cocky and kind of a snob, which causes friction on the field. Normally, I don’t hang out with people like him, but there’s this sort of unwritten rule that even off the field, the team has to act decently to each other.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Some of the guys and I are wondering if you don’t come to the team’s parties because that uptight fiancé of yours won’t let you.”

At first I don’t think I heard him right, mostly because Callie has never come off as uptight to anyone. Shy and quiet, sure. But uptight?

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I slow to a stop and step toward him.

He’s a couple of inches shorter than me, but has got me by at least fifty pounds. Still, my height gives off the intimidation factor I need and he steps back an inch or two.

“Look, I didn’t mean anything by it.” He raises his hands in front of him.

“Didn’t mean anything by it?” I crook my brow at him. “You called my fiancé uptight, which she’s not. And you’ve met her like what? A total of two times, so how the fuck would you know what kind of a person she is.”

“Sorry man.” He looks anything but sorry. “Maybe uptight was the wrong choice of words.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking about my fiancé at all.”

“Maybe not.” He backs away with a trace of a smirk on his face. What the smirk means is beyond me, but it raises my anger to a whole new level.

Shaking my head, I storm down the hallway in the opposite direction as Jason. When I reach the doors at the end, I push outside and step beneath the cloudy sky. The cool autumn breeze sweeps over me as I stride across the grass toward my car so I can drive over to the practice stadium where I’ll spend the entire evening working out and running plays with the team. Then I’ll go home and hang with Callie for about an hour until I pass out. Around early morning, five days a week, I go to work, afternoons are reserved for classes, and weekends are for games.

My routine is pretty hardcore right now, which is understandable since I’m about to graduate and will probably be going to the draft. But I miss Callie a lot. Even though we live with each other, I barely see her. Right now she’s in between jobs so we do have a bit of extra time. But a couple of weeks ago when she was working, I didn’t even get that hour at night. The only thing that helps me continue on with this stressful schedule is that eventually I’ll make it to a point where my entire life won’t be a crazy mess of rushing here and there. Then I’ll be able to take care of Callie like she does me and then I’ll get to spend more time with her.

As I reach my car, my phone buzzes again, reminding me I never read the message from Seth. This text is from him too. Knowing Seth, he more than likely sent me some silly meme—yeah, he’s that friend. So when I open the text and see that it’s an actual message, I grow worried. Especially when I see it has to do with Callie.

Seth: Any chance you can skip out on practice? Our darling little Callie is upset and could use some cuddle time, and unfortunately, my cuddles don’t seem to cheer her up much. Don’t know why. I’ve been told I’m like the best cuddler ever.

My worry immediately magnifies as I hurry and climb in my car.

Me: Is everything okay?

Seth: Yeah, it’s not like an emergency. I think she’s just bummed out about the job interview, and you two have barely seen each other for the last couple of weeks, so I think some Kayden cuddle time might cheer her up. She won’t ask you herself. You know how she is about asking you to do things for her, especially stuff like take off practices.

I start up my car.

Me: Yeah, I know. She’s always putting everyone else before herself.

I really do know that. And it’s part of the reason why I got so pissed off about Jason calling her uptight. Sure, Callie isn’t a flirt that giggles twenty-four seven like most of the girls Jason hangs out with. No, Callie isn’t like that at all. She’s one of the most sweetest, unselfish, caring people I know. She’s perfect, even when she’s having a bad day, even when we’re pissed off at each other.

Perfection. That’s what Callie is.

Seth: So, are you coming then?

While practice is important, I haven’t missed one in forever. And cheering Callie up seems more important at the moment. After all, she’s always there to cheer me up.

Me: Yep, on my way.

After I text my coach that I’m not feeling well and I’m going to have to take the night off, I drop the phone into the cup holder, strap my seatbelt on, and press on the gas to maneuver out of the parking space. As I’m steering the car toward the road, something strange catches my attention. A guy in his mid-twenties, wearing a button down shirt, a pair of jeans, and a baseball cap is standing by a black SUV with extremely tinted windows. He has a strange look on his face as his gaze tracks my car. I don’t know what he’s looking at, since the vehicle I drive is nothing spectacular. He might be a fan, I guess. That happens sometimes. What really creeps me out, though, is that the moment my car passes him, he climbs into his SUV and backs out of the parking space. Then he pulls out onto the road behind me and follows me for a handful of blocks. Starting to get a bit uneasy, I take a detour into a random subdivision, figuring I’m just being paranoid. But he still follows me.

“Shit. Who the hell could this dude be?” I continue to drive around the streets that weave through the two-story homes, debating whether to just slam on my brakes and confront him.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of him riding my tail, I pull over and park in front of the curb. I half expect him to stop, but instead he drives by really slowly with his baseball cap pulled low. Then he punches the gas and peels off down the road.

I try to catch his license plate number, but it’s covered in too much grime, so all I can do is take a mental note of the make and model of the vehicle.

“Maybe I’m just overreacting,” I try to convince myself. “I mean, who in the hell would even be following me?”

I don’t have an answer, but as I pull back onto the road, I can’t shake the unsettling feeling stirring inside me that something isn’t quite right.