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“I know.” A ragged sigh leaves me and I grip the back of my neck with both hands, going quiet when a few of our teammates jog past us, heading for our regular meeting point by the goalposts on the south side of the field before we kickoff practice. “Here’s my problem—I really like her.”
“And that’s a problem, how?”
“What if she messes with my gameplay? What if I can’t concentrate?” If she fucks everything up, then I’ll have to cut her loose, and I don’t want to do that.
At all.
“Let’s test it out on the field.” He slaps my shoulder and starts running, encouraging me to run along with him.
Cam puts me through it the entirety of practice, testing me constantly. We run through drills over and over again until I want to collapse, the coaches never saying a damn word. They just keep blowing their whistles and demanding we do it again. The last half of practice consists of me running out on the field, fast as fuck, and never letting up, blindly holding up my hands, praying the ball lands.
I catch that fuckin’ thing every single time.
When practice is over, I’m a sweaty, exhausted mess, grinning like a fool and beaming under the praise of the coaching staff.
“On fire tonight, Maguire.” Mattson holds his hand out for a slap and I give it to him, gripping his fingers with mine for a brief moment. He grips them back, his expression reminding me of a proud father.
Reminding me of my dad, who’s coming with Mom in a few weeks to watch us play.
“Feels good, Coach,” I tell Mattson.
“You look good. Keep it up.” His gaze drops to my legs. “Your knee holding up all right?”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I slept in and missed my PT appointment this morning. He’d probably be pissed, so I keep it to myself. “Better than ever.”
“Glad to hear it.”
His praise has me floating all the way to the locker room, and I’m greeted to more of it by my teammates, all having something positive to say to me. Even freaking Derek.
“You get laid or something? That why you’re doing so well out there?” He gives me the stink eye, completely unaware of how close he is to what’s really going on.
I make a dismissive noise, giving him my besthell nolook. “I’m celibate, remember?”
My gaze finds Cam, who slowly shakes his head. The fucker.
“All right,” Derek drawls, and I know he doesn’t believe me. “I hear one thing about you hooking up with a groupie, and you owe me.”
“You’ll never hear that,” I say with the utmost confidence.
“I can vouch for him,” Cam seconds like we’re at a board meeting, and I need votes.
Derek’s gaze goes from mine to Cam’s and back to me again. “I feel like you guys are trying to trick me.”
I’m as solemn as a priest. “Never.”
“Why would we want to waste even a minute of our time trying to trick you, huh, big D?” Cam’s brows lift.
“Right. You’re right.” He struts away, headed for the shower, and I send Cam a look.
“I should just confess.”
“Nah, I like seeing him get all twisted over it. It’s fun, keeping up the celibate pretense.” Cam shakes his head. “Well, for you at least.”
“And who are you fucking around with, huh?”
Cam’s smile is smug as hell. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
* * *
