“And the truth is, you’ve probably peaked as a quarterback in high school. Someday you’re going to be a lonely, middle-aged man with deep-seated commitment issues. You’ll be in AA, hooked on porn, crying over your Chinese takeout—” His hand scrubs his mouth, and at first I think he’s pissed; then I realize his shoulders are shaking. “What’s so funny?” I snap. His eyes spear mine. “You.” I reach out and ruffle his hair. It’s silky under my fingers, and I flinch back, feeling branded. I just touched him. What is wrong with me? He freezes at the contact and jerks away. “Don’t touch me.”
