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“Yeah, which is why I’m really hoping you’ll do me a solid and be the bestest friend ever and come to the game with me tonight. We can sit way in the back and skip all the after-parties. Then I’ll come back to your dorm, and we can have a sleepover with all the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies you want.”
“Wait, what?” I squeak, thoroughly confused.
“What? I was scrolling through your laptop when you were in the shower the other day and saw all the films you had saved. Almost every single one was Christmas related.”
“Dude,” I huff, nudging her in the arm, though I’m really not bothered, and she’s absolutely correct. There’s nothing better than watching Christmas films, no matter what time of year it is.
She gives me her best puppy-dog eyes, pleading that I agree, and I sigh. “Fine, but I’m choosing the snacks.”
“Deal.” She slaps her hand against mine before turning away and digging into her lunch, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
Maverick
There is nothing more exhilarating than the sound of a hyped-up crowd roaring your name as you step out onto the open field. My body tingles with excitement, my fingers itching to get around the ball, and my legs bursting with the need to run.
Nash claps me on the shoulder, his helmet tucked under his other arm as he glances over at the packed bleachers. “First game, QB. How are you feeling?”
“Like we’re going to win this thing.”
“Too fucking right.” He smirks, turning around and walking backward to where Coach waits. “Let’s do this shit!”
I echo his sentiments, following him. Football is one of my lifelines. Even when I was locked up, I spent many days in the yard with a ball in my hand, keeping my game up and my mind sane. Without it, there’s no way I’d have survived the year.
Coach Jenkins nods at me when I reach him, a silent question in his eyes. Nodding at him, a familiar determination rushes me.I’ve got this.The first couple practices may have gone down like a turd, but as the weeks have drawn out, I’ve fallen back in my groove. It helps that I’ve spent most of my time tucked away in my bedroom, avoiding Beatrice at every turn.
Her words from that day in my apartment have consumed me. Wondering if she’s being for real and is planning to take one of the many dudes up on their offers, and if so, who?
The guys find the whole thing funny, and even Nash has taken to asking me to keep trying to get rid of her, if only to see her hand me my ass yet again. The issue is, I’m coming up empty.
The taunts she receives, I hate. Anyone hurting her to get her to leave is an absolute nonstarter. And aside from following her around like a lost puppy, begging her to please go and let me get back to my calm life, I’ve got nothing.
“Right, guys, first game,” Coach starts, pulling us all into a huddle. “Maverick, you’re up, don’t let us down. We’ve got a good team this year, possibly our best on record. But it only works if you do. So heads in the game. The championship is calling our names, and we’re going to take it, come hell or high water. So, are you ready?”
A chorus of “Yes, Coach” rings out around us, and I can feel myself getting high off the anticipation.
Making our way to the center of the field, we get into position as the crowd chants our anthem. A massive grin breaks on my face as my eyes travel over them, pausing when I see two girls sitting there, one I never thought I’d get to see at my games again.
She looks so small, tucked up into the bleachers, her hands playing with the hem of her sweater. Her head snaps up, finding my gaze in an instant, and her lips flicker, a whisper of something I haven’t seen for years passing over them before she schools her expression.
The image stirs something inside me, memories of the times she used to come watch me play back in high school. Knowing she was there, I used to put on a show—the smug shit I was—just for her.
She’d always laugh when she found me afterward, smiling widely as I’d hoist her into my arms, swinging her around before dropping a kiss to her forehead and setting her free.
That was before Sebastian.
Before she eventually stopped showing up to my games.
She was always my good luck charm back then and the only reason I took the game seriously. It wasn’t my talent on the field, or with a ball, it was because of her. Because she believed in my skill. She believed in me.
So much has changed since those days, but when I see the way her legs tremble in excitement, and her fingers dance excitedly over her thighs, I know this much hasn’t.
She still believes in me, out here at least, and tonight I want to show her she still has a reason to do so. Tomorrow we can go back to being strangers, and I can go back to finding a way to get her out of my life.
But tonight . . . for sixty minutes, we can be those two kids again, the ones who believed anything was possible as long as we had each other.
Chapter Eleven
Beatrice
