A round of chuckles erupted.
“Some of us like to show up on game day well-rested.” I threw some cash on the bar and stuffed my wallet into my pants pocket. “Besides, if I stay much longer, I’ll end up babysitting the rookies.”
The elevator ride to my floor was quiet, and by the time I swiped the key card and stepped into my room, I was ready for bed. Travel, meetings, practice. It tired me out. It was a reminder of my age. At almost thirty-one, I was only a fewseasons away from retirement. Most quarterbacks only last around five years in the league. That’s why I worked harder than most. Football was a young man’s game, so playing forever wasn’t an option.
I stripped my clothes off, collapsed onto the bed, and started scrolling through my phone. I was trying to wind down, but my brain wasn’t getting the memo. That seemed to happen when there was nothing else grabbing my attention.
Maybe that was why my brain kept drifting straight back to her.
I should have been thinking about tomorrow. I was on the road with a game in less than twenty-four hours, but the only thing on my mind was our last conversation.
Becca didn’t have a boyfriend after all.
I meant what I said when I told her I understood. Hell, I even respected her for it. Lines were getting blurred, and pretending otherwise would have only been a bigger lie. So, I appreciated that she was being an adult about this when I wasn’t sure I could be.
I dragged a hand over my face, wishing these thoughts rattling around in my head would stop.
I glanced at my phone again, flipping it around in my hands. This was stupid. I couldn’t for the life of me recall the last time I was so strung up over a woman.
Calling her would be a bad idea, but the longer I stared at my phone, the more I wanted to hear her voice.
I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t, but I hit the button anyway.
The line rang four times before she picked up. “Hello?”
There was noise in the background. It sounded like she was in a restaurant.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, sinking my head into the pillow. “You busy?”
“Hi,” she said, a little breathless, like she was in the middle of something. “I’m actually on a date. Is it urgent?”
I frowned. She was on a date. I shouldn’t care. She had a life. I shouldn’t feel anything. She didn’t owe me anything, so why did my heart twist around my chest?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
What I really wanted to say was something a lot less mature, but I knew well enough to keep my mouth shut.
“That’s okay,” she said quietly. “Can I call you later?”
What was I supposed to say? No?
I dragged a free hand through my hair and pressed the phone to my ear. I reminded myself that the more respectful thing to do would be to wish her a good night and let her go.
“Sure. Enjoy your night. We can catch up later.”
I hung up and stared at my phone, like it might explain why my chest felt so tight. She was out with some guy while I lay here alone in my hotel room, thinking about her. I didn’t get jealous, so this was ridiculous.
The logical choice would be to leave her alone. She was doing exactly what she should have been doing. I had no business inserting myself into that. I’ve been telling myself I didn’t need any complications. The timing of this was all wrong, and the circumstances were worse.
All those reasons should have stopped me from making a stupid decision, but they didn’t.
Me
I hope he took you somewhere nice.
A second later, my phone buzzed.
Becca
