“What are you doing this close to the stadium,” she asked even as she started driving, her attention on the road.

“Practice session.”

“Really, I haven’t seen you around before.”

“First day in the team,” I answered.

“Really, offense or defense?” Considering her friend --- or boyfriend, more likely --- was a part of the team as the backup quarterback, her question wasn’t entirely shocking.

“Backup middle linebacker,” I answered succinctly, and considering her nod, she followed the game enough to understand the game more than most sorority groupies who were more interested in the status of a football player than the actual game.

“You have a tough road ahead of you, the training the defensive team goes through is nothing less than torture,” she said, though, the moment I mentioned that I was a backup, her interest increased slightly. Backup players, especially when played for defense, weren’t exactly at the peak of the social hierarchy of the school, they were leagues better than the practice squad.

The less said about the position of the chess players in the hierarchy, the better.

“I can’t say that I’m feeling fresh as a daisy,” I answered with a tired smirk. “I’m really glad that you stopped, by the way. After full training, the walk would have been a total drag. I’m Terry, by the way.”

“Megan,” she answered. “Kevin always bitches about moving after a long training as well. Like tonight.”

“Really, I would have assumed a quarterback would have an easier training schedule.”

“Not the case. Like tonight, we were supposed to hang together tonight, but apparently, the team had an emergency study session.”

“Oh, really?” I said, my smirk widening, though she had missed that as she drove. Since I had been invited, I knew for a fact that the team had a party. I could just tell that, which would make her call Kevin angrily.

A move like that was supposed to be against the bro-code, but I had absolutely no problem with messing with Kevin some more, especially with such an excellent opportunity.

Unfortunately, I had seen the same song and dance many times. She would get angry, Kevin would give a few excuses about the last-minute change, or convince her with hundreds of other excuses.

That didn’t change my mind about messing with Kevin, of course. I might have let it slide the egging part, as none of them came even close to hitting me, and I always enjoyed playing against a rattled opponent. However, trying to get me kicked out of the team just because I managed to intercept his passes was a different thing.

I’m not really a vengeful person, but that didn’t mean I would turn the amazing opportunity that came to my feet.

“Actually, I didn’t know that. The guys from the defense said that there’s a party back at the team house tonight, but maybe the offense has their separate study session. Their coach looks quite strict,” I said, aware just how unbelievable it sounds for anyone that had seen two coaches.

“Oh, really?” she murmured, her tone icy even as she sent me a glare, suspicious of me.

I matched her smirk, realizing that despite what her blonde hair and her expensive outfit might have implied at the first glance thanks to decades of TV coding, she wasn’t an airhead. She was certainly sharp enough to understand the intent behind my words, as well as the deliberate wording I had chosen.

That glance was enough to tell me that Kevin’s idea of deflecting her was doomed to failure in the first place, though that didn’t change the enjoyment I had from my own involvement.

She immediately reached for the phone, but before she could call him, I spoke once again. Since I had started the fire, I had no problem pouring some gas on the fire to make it nice and warm. “Do you mind accompanying me to the party,” I said. “Just to pay back the favor of giving me a ride, of course.”

“Oh, I would love it!” she said cheerfully, like a housewife about to stab her husband.

I was about to ask her to stop by my dorm, but when she slammed the gas aggressively, I decided that, sometimes, the silence was really golden. Instead, I leaned back, enjoying the drive even as Megan pressed the gas.

It would be a lie to say I didn’t feel a momentary panic as she sped up, afraid of an accident, but the smooth way she shifted the gears, smoothly yet aggressively, calmed me quite a bit. It was the small details that drew the line between an expert and an amateur over her head, and Megan drove too well to be an amateur.

Maybe good enough to be called an expert, I thought as she took a sharp turn aggressively, drifting flawlessly without shedding any more speed than what was strictly necessary.

She was a way better driver than I was.

It was a maneuver that no car I could afford could make, requiring much higher torque than my little dinky wrecks could actually output. But that didn’t mean I have never used a better car --- though legality in of my possession was under dispute.

I might or might not have hung around with a questionable set of friends when I was sixteen.

“So, is the car yours or Kevin’s,” I asked without prompting, five minutes into the drive.

“Why, can’t a girl enjoy driving something with decent horsepower?” she growled. It seemed that my statement hit in a different location than I had been expecting.

“Cool your cats, sweetie,” I said, my smile getting even wider. “If I didn’t think you could drive, I would have dropped off before that crazy sharp turn.” Once again, she impressed me with her instincts by looking at me expectantly, aware that I was just setting up another opening. “I was just wondering what kind of car Kevin owned? Another sports car?”

“No, he drives a sedan,” she said.

“I see,” I said, falling silent in a very particular manner.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

“I wouldn’t want to cause trouble between you two, maybe I should keep my mouth shut,” I said smugly, earning an eye-roll in response. “He might have made a bet with one of the defensive players, putting up a red convertible,” I said. “And I distinctly remember him saying his car, but...”

“I see,” Megan said, but her fingers around the wheel tightened even further.

“But maybe he has a different car in mind. Why don’t you text him and say you’ll go away for a surprise family trip, and see whether he’ll raise the issue of the car.”

She didn’t say anything, nor that she needed to when she grabbed her phone --- thankfully slowing down as she did so --- and typed a message. The response came quickly, and if the way her face tightened was any indicator, Kevin couldn’t manage to avoid the little pit I dug for him.

A pit filled with poisonous snakes and sharp spikes, but just a pit nonetheless.

Frankly, I had no idea what Kevin was thinking. Was he hoping to just give the car of his girlfriend and hope for the best, somehow delaying things until things exploded? Maybe he had the funds to buy another car, or needed a few days to convince his family for it.

Maybe he didn’t even have a long-term plan. He wouldn’t be the first man I had seen, making ridiculous decisions to delay the problem, hoping everything would somehow fall on his way.

“That was not nice,” came a voice chiming from the backseat, but I ignored it steadfastly other than meeting her gaze from the mirror, seeing a disapproving expression.

“So, what exactly he do to you?” she asked after another minute of fuming. Though, her anger was not fully contained, only suppressed and stored for a later explosion.

“Nothing much,” I said. “He just tried to get me kicked out of the team because of a few measly interceptions. Apparently, he doesn’t appreciate any kind of competition.”

“I see,” she said, though she relaxed after seeing I had a valid reason to have a beef with Kevin rather than somehow trying to use it as an opportunity to get with her.

She said nothing else, focusing on the drive. It was tempting to mention the egging incident as well, to see her reaction, which would no doubt be amusing at this point, but I didn’t want to disperse her anger before she could face her boyfriend --- or more likely, ex-boyfriend.