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“Dude, where's the beer?” one of the guys asks. Were they not paying attention?
“I had an accident on the way over here. I ordered more and a waitress is bringing them over to us. Chill.” I roll my eyes, sitting down next to Preston. He’s on his phone texting someone. I close my eyes and put my head on the back of the booth.
“What’s wrong with you?” Preston leans toward me not taking his eyes off the scene around after putting his phone away.
“Not my scene. I prefer to be playing video games, strumming my guitar, or running, not doing this socializing in a loud bar.”
“Me too, but this is sort of a tradition for the team. I’m staying another twenty minutes then I’m outta here.” He shows me his phone where he has a timer. I smile at him. “I hate the bar scene, especially during football season.” I agree with him. There are too many jersey chasers and I’m not about that at all. I’d rather have a regular hookup than a string of one-night stands with girls who want bragging rights to a sports player. I sigh. The waitress brings the beer I ordered, and a Coke for me. I thank her and hand her a fifty and tell her to keep the change. She winks at me then walks away.
“That is one way to get great service. This cost you like twenty dollars at most,” Jimmy, one of my teammates, says, and I shrug. My sister was a waitress all through high school and most of college until she met her now husband who is rich. She struggled trying to keep food on the table for us. Since they give me a monthly allowance so I don’t have to get a job since getting an education is my job—which is her motto for me—I can spare it since everything I need is provided thanks to my football scholarship. Preston and I spent about an hour with the team laughing and eating bar food. It was a great night but I kept stealing looks at the hazel-eyed girl who was dancing and shaking her ass on the dance floor.
Why is Preston not with his girl?
* * *
Monday
Coach Powers:
My office after your first class
I groan at the text I received late last night when I was studying for my history test today. I wonder what I did to get this kind of text. I asked Marcus, who is my teammate and roommate, if he got one and he said no. I’m heading to the sports complex where they house the gym, hockey rink, and sports offices. I put on my headphones, hit play on my 2000s playlist, and close out the world around me. My eyes still scan the area around me as I walk so I don’t knock anyone over but I stop when I see the girl from the bar coming out of the sports complex with a bag on her shoulders. Is she a hockey player? I know she’s with Melinda, Jimmy’s best friend’s girlfriend. I met her a few times and know she’s a goalie on the team. She’s carrying a similar bag and laughing with the group. I stand there watching them as they walk toward the parking lot.
The ringing in my ear has me taking my phone out and I see my sister is calling me, so I answer the phone.
“Hey, sis. How are you feeling?” She’s pregnant with her first kid and due around Christmas.
“I’m feeling good today. How are you? How was your test?”
I groan.
“I think I did okay, but not great. I’m struggling with some of the courses here.” I never lie to Lisa at all because she knows me better than myself.
“What will that mean for football? Don’t you need to maintain a certain GPA?”
I shrug like she can see me.
“I don’t know. I got a text from my coach last night and am heading there to meet him now. Did I make a mistake coming here?”
“Your dream is to play in the NFL, or did that change? I know you’re working on a degree in kinesiology so you can work with athletes in case the NFL doesn’t work out.”
“That’s the dream. Ever since dad put the pigskin in my hand when I was three, it’s been only about football. Then as I got older, playing for the NFL and making sure you are taken care of is everything I wanted. Learning the work with athletes is really cool because there’s so much to it. I could train the next MMA champion or help a struggling NHL star get back on the ice. There’s so much going on in my head.”
“First of all, you don't need to worry about me. I’m good. You put all this pressure on yourself when Mom and Dad died. They wouldn’t want you worrying so much.” She sighs. “I did what I needed to do and it led me to Mark and I’ll never be sorry for it. Now we’re going to have Poppy in a few months. Focus on you and your dreams.”
“Thanks.” My phone buzzes, and the coach is getting impatient. “I need to go; the coach is getting pissed that I’m late.” I hang up and run to meet him.
CHAPTER THREE
SLOANE
I stare at the blue door of my dad’s house debating if I just walk right in or if I should knock.
“What are you doing?” I jump at Preston’s voice in my ear. He chuckles then groans when my elbow connects with his stomach. “That hurts.”
“Don’t sneak up on someone who is having a debate with themselves,” I snark at him then smile.
“Debating what?” he asks, crossing his arms. His backpack is over his shoulder. He still lives at home.
