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She let out an annoyed growl. “Fine. If you do not want to see me, then I do not want to see you. Stay in and jack off or whatever it is you do when I’m not there.”
She hung up. I sighed, and thought that was the end of it.
I was wrong.
Isabella called me at a quarter to midnight, sobbing and asking if I cared about her. I spent an hour on the phone with her, insisting that I did care about her and wanted to be with her, but that I needed my sleep before traveling. When the call ended, I thought she was better.
The team met at the stadium the next morning. The team bus would take us to the airport so we could fly to Los Angeles for the game. All of us were standing around, holding luggage and shooting the shit about the new Chargers quarterback out of Iowa.
Then Isabella rolled up in her convertible, parked it in the middle of the street in front of us, and hopped out.
“Uh oh,” Double-D muttered as she strode toward me, high heels clicking on the pavement.
“You,” she said, jabbing a finger at my face. “You can have last night. That’s your freebie. But if you fuck up like that again, you’re going to lose me.”
I didn’t get a chance to get a word in before she strutted back to her car and drove away.
“Daaaamn,” Kincaid said. “Shorty is pissed.”
“Last night?” Dallas said. “Did you cheat on her or something?”
“The only woman in bed with me last night was my husky, Luna,” I replied. “Isabella’s mad I wouldn’t go out with her.”
“I don’t need this second-hand drama in my life,” Stevie announced. “This is why God invented noise-cancellation headphones.”
Double-D put his arm around my shoulder. “What’d I tell you? Never stick your dick in crazy.”
“Isabella isn’t crazy. She’s just… extra.”
“She’s an extra helping of spicy salsa you didn’t order,” Double-D said. “You need to cut that hangnail loose.”
The team bus pulled around the corner. Everyone grabbed their bags and got ready to go. I sighed with relief that my personal drama was no longer being advertised in front of all my teammates.
“He’s not wrong,” Dallas said quietly. “You doing all right?”
“Sure am,” I replied.
Dallas stared at me. “It’s okay if you’re not okay. You can always talk to me about it.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Dallas didn’t understand. How could he? He was lucky enough to have found his soulmate. He and Kimmy were happier than ever—the kind of perfect couple that everyone talked about when they discussed soulmates. I even suspected that Dallas was thinking of popping the question sometime soon.
The flight to Los Angeles was uneventful, but when I landed, I had fifteen texts from Isabella.
Isabella: I’m mad I didn’t get a response from you today.
Isabella: You just let me walk away.
Isabella: If you are going to be my boyfriend, you need to step up your game. And I’m not talking about football.
Isabella: Call me the second you land.
Isabella: The SECOND.
Isabella: I talked to my tía about us and she had some thoughts about how we can spend more quality time together.
Isabella: Have you landed yet? I thought the flight was only 2 hours.
