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“Offense.”
“Is that our team or the other team?” I asked.
Willow gave me a skeptical look. “Are you for real? Don’t you know anything about football?”
“I know stuff. Like that a touchdown is seven points.”
“A touchdown is six points,” Willow said.
Right. “You know what I mean. After they kick, it’s seven points. And I know who the quarterback is and who the snapper is.”
“What’s a snapper?” Poppy asked.
“It’s a fish,” Willow said, turning back to the screen. “Not a football player.”
“There is so a snapper. It’s the guy who puts the ball between his legs. The one whose butt the quarterback grabs.”
Poppy and Willow started laughing.
“That’s the center,” Willow said. “And the quarterback is not grabbing his butt. How were you a cheerleader and you don’t know any of this stuff?”
“It’s a great shame to my father,” I said. “I never absorbed much of it. I had trouble sitting still as a kid.”
“We’ll teach you,” Poppy said, gently patting my knee.
“Thanks.” I had reached the age of twenty-eight without needing to know the ins and outs of football, but for the next few months I was going to surrounded by it, I might as well have a clue what I was looking at.
The girls were insanely knowledgeable. Poppy didn’t know how to ride a bike, but she knew when a blitz was coming. When Brandon chose to punt on fourth down, Willow said confidently, “I would have gone for it.”
The commentators did discuss Brandon periodically. Things like “Macnamara has a hard task ahead of him this year even with a quarterback like North. They’re a young, untamed team and it remains to be seen if he can rein them in.”
Then they mentioned his previous tenure in Seattle and how successful he’d been.
At halftime, the score was tied and the girls were a wreck. They were very bouncy on the couch and Poppy demanded nachos, saying she needed them to calm her nerves.
“Nachos calm your nerves?” I asked, skeptical.
She nodded. “It’s the cheese.”
That made me laugh. I stood up to figure out how to scrounge up nachos. Brandon and the players were leaving the field. He walked confidently to the locker room, not looking worried about the score at all. It was bizarre to see him on television. And to know that I had sex with him. That we’d been warm and intimate and uninhibited with each other.
Nachos.
That’s what I needed to concentrate on.
Not Brandon’s cock inside of me.
Chapter Eleven
Opening my apartment door, I braced myself. Sunday nights were normally full of tears and whining, the girls resentful I had been gone all weekend, and Willow in particular dreading the return to school on Monday. They were always angry and upset, I always felt guilty and overwhelmed, and it had become a dreaded ritual. I was tired and just wanted to sit on the couch and chill, but I steeled myself for a long night before I could reasonably get the girls into bed.
Except when I stepped inside, instead of the girls coming at me with demands or accusations, there was music blaring and Dakota was talking loudly over it.
“The origins of hip hop are rooted in African music, but also American jazz and modern dance. It started as a street style, created right here in New York City.”
I dropped my overnight bag and moved toward the living room. What I saw made my mouth go dry. Dakota was wearing the team T-shirt Carson had given her, but she had taken the hemline and pulled it through the neck so that it looked more like a bra or a bikini top than a T-shirt. She was wearing the smallest dance shorts I’d ever seen. They barely rose north of her pubic bone and did not cover all of her ass. Not even close. She had on white socks with black stripes that went to her knees and sneakers.
If all of that weren’t enough to give me a hard cock, she was thrusting her hips forward. Then she did a few moves that I wasn’t sure were choreographed or just spontaneous but it involved her dropping to her knees, popping back up with very spread thighs, rolling through her back with her ass sticking out, and a seductive walking move with her hand running through her hair.
