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He nods. “It’s an indulgence. During the season, I’m normally strict with my diet, but tonight is a special occasion.”
I take a bite and match his earlier expression. “I don’t think I’ve had something so delicious. I think they soaked the apples in cinnamon. Remind me not to tell my mom.”
Alex laughs. “As long as you don’t tell mine that I moaned when I tasted your pie.”
The air around us shifts at the sexual innuendo. My ankles cross and my thighs tighten with the thought of Alex and me together. I hadn’t imagined anything like that between us, but now, the thoughts filter through like a mirage with our bodies tangling. My leg over his hip. Him thrusting into me and his back arched.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, he caresses my cheek, bringing my attention back to the forefront. Before I can register his action, he’s leaning over the table and pressing his lips to mine. They’re soft, tentative, and welcoming. I begin to open for him, but he stops and sits back down.
“Well, now that the first kiss is out of the way, we’ll be smooth sailing from here on out.” Alex winks and takes a bite of his pie. His eyes roll back, and I find myself once again, imagining him, hovering over me.
SIX
ALEX
It’s game day. I invited Kelsey, and even sent some Pioneer gear to her house, but she’s not here. She also didn’t say whether she would come or not, but I hope she will. Hell, I hope she’ll miraculously appear in the stands. Of course, I probably should’ve secured some general tickets instead of putting her with the other wives and girlfriends. Initially, I thought she’d find something in common with them and become friends with a few. Thinking back, I should’ve had two tickets put aside for her so she could bring a coworker or something.
My head drops. I’m dense.
I could be reading the room wrong too. We have chemistry. There isn’t a doubt in my mind there’s something between us. It could be more on my end though. I’ve really enjoyed my time with her.
But then there’s Maggie.
Kelsey knew about her, which isn’t surprising. Everyone Googles everyone these days. It’s the smart thing to do, especially if you’re a woman who’s just moved to a new city. It’s something I’d want my sister to do if she ever dated again. Actually, background checks should be accessible to the public. That would definitely curb some of the crime out there.
The game starts and I make my way to the twenty-yard line. I’m slow moving and mentally kick my ass for not thoroughly thinking my actions through. The possibility I put Kelsey in a potentially uncomfortable situation never crossed my mind before now. She deserves better than that.
After a series of plays, I’m on the bench, pretending to listen to our offensive coordinator, and not hearing a single thing he tells us. I nod when everyone else nods, and then I go out and do my job.
When the horn sounds for halftime, I’m relieved.Halfway done. I jog my way toward the locker room, with some of my teammates patting me on my back for a job well done. I’m not sure what I did in the first half of the game that stood out to them, but I’ll take it. I need the ego boost right now because I can’t seem to get out of my own mind.
In the locker room, I head toward the bathroom. Taking a leak during the game is probably the most refreshing thing we can do. Except, it’s near impossible until halftime. It’s not like we can run off the field whenever nature calls. Nor can we assume the other team is going to march down the field, giving either the offensive or defensive line a long enough rest so we can run into the locker room to relieve ourselves.
When I was a rookie, I had the worst experience of my life. I had to piss like a racehorse. I asked every coach on the sideline what I should do. Most of them gave me some bullshit answer, like do a slow trickle or grab a handful of towels and go hide in the corner. Neither of those options seemed like the best choice, and at the time I figured they were hazing me because it was my first year.
Nope. It turns out, many NFL’ers do whatever they can to relieve themselves while still playing the game. Not me. My dumbass thought it would be a brilliant idea to use the bathroom for the people who have on-the-field passes. I rushed in, unaware that cleats and tile flooring don’t mix, fell on my ass and skidded across the floor. I tried to use my hands to stop my momentum, but I had gloves on, and they were sweaty. Needless to say, the person standing at the urinals caught every second of my blunder and ended up hitting my leg with a steam of warm piss. Not to be deterred. I stood up, undid my pants, and did what any man in my situation would do. I nodded toward him and asked, “How’s it hanging?”
Not my finest moment.
But one I’ve made sure to never ever repeat again.
Ever.
Because of this, I’ve limited my water intake during the game. It’s not advisable, and the Pioneers trainer doesn’t like it, but I have to do whatever it takes to keep my bathroom antics off social media.
Coach is drawing on the whiteboard like a frantic man when I come back into the meeting room. Most of the guys mumble in agreement with him when he asks a question. More often the questions are rhetorical, but the coaching staff pays attention to who is listening. It’s nice when we’re winning because Coach reminds us of what we need to do to continue—strong defense, smart passes—shit like that.
I go around the room and pat my offensive line on their shoulders to hype them up. We’re doing a great job. Westbury hasn’t been sacked once. And we’ve only had ten yards in penalties. That’s a win in my book. Now, we just have to take our first half momentum into the last half of the game. We have to dig deep and hold the line.
We jog back onto the field, and I do everything I can not to look in the direction of where Kelsey should be sitting. I fail, miserably. She’s not here. Honestly, she doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would show up mid-game. If I had to put money on it, I’d say she’s someone who is fifteen minutes early for everything, which is the way things should be.
I try not to let the absence of Kelsey interfere with my game. I have a job to do, whether she’s here or not. Besides, we shared two kisses. The second happened when I walked her to her door. There was no tongue action with either of them. I like to think there would’ve been more, if I didn’t have to be at the field for a six a.m. workout.
The final horn sounds. Dumbfounded, I stand there and stare at the scoreboard. We’ve won, but I can’t recall a single play or touchdown from the game. It’s like I floated through the entire afternoon, musing about Kelsey, when I should’ve focused on my job.
Back in the locker room, I sit in front of my locker and wonder how I managed to play one of the most challenging and dangerous games out there but can’t remember a damn thing about it.Did I get hit?I shake my head, knowing full well that if I got hit, the trainer would’ve checked me for a concussion. Coach doesn’t mess around with brain injuries.
After taking my gear off and dumping my uniform in the laundry bin, I head to the shower. Jessie McAvoy is singing show tunes, while the rest of the guys tell him to shut up. His current favorite isHamilton. The songs are catchy, and after seeing the traveling production, I learned a crap ton about the revolution. Had history been taught this way back in school, I would’ve paid more attention.
