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I am such an egotistical ass.
“I’m positive. I’m a big girl, Cam.” Her gaze goes to the street and she pushes away from the wall, heading for the curb. “My ride is here. I’ll see you later.”
I watch her head for a black BMW SUV, the passenger side window lowering, and the driver says her name, indicating he’s there for her. She opens the back door and slides inside, the door shutting quickly, cutting my view of her.
I stare at the car, willing her to roll down her window and wave at me. Needing just one more glimpse.
It doesn’t happen. The car pulls away from the curb and heads down the street, disappearing into the darkness. I watch it until the red taillights are nothing but pinpricks before I finally head for my own vehicle, not caring enough to go back inside and tell my friends and teammates that I’m leaving. They don’t care where I’m at. They’re too busy trying to pick up girls. Needing their adulation to feed their egos. No judgment. I’ve done it too. it feels pretty fucking good.
I’m starting to realize that nothing is going to feel as fucking good as Blair Maguire tastes.
And I haven’t even tasted her yet.
* * *
Saturday.Game day. Practice has gone great all week. My accuracy has improved. My offensive line is getting stronger. Faster. We’re coming together nicely, and I have a feeling we’re going to fucking kill it today.
I remind myself of that as I run out onto the field with the rest of the team to a roaring crowd. The stands are already full and I’m scanning the bleachers, looking for one face in particular. She should be sitting pretty low, closer to the sideline, and when I spot her, my entire body shifts into overdrive.
Meaning I feel the need to show off. Look strong. Appear ready to conquer.
Blair doesn’t even notice me though. She’s too busy talking to two women who sit directly in front of her.
“I see Blair showed up,” I say, as casually as I can to Knox, who is currently jogging right next to me. Thought it might be smart to bring her up first.
Knox glances over at me, slowing down, and I do the same. “I didn’t give her a ticket.”
“Yeah, I know. I did.” I brace myself for the blast of questions.
“What? Why?”
“She asked me for one.” I shrug, lying. I actually offered it up first, but Knox doesn’t need to know that.
“And why didn’t she ask me for one?” He seems offended. “When did you see her?”
“I don’t know why she didn’t ask you. I ran into her last night and we got to talking.” Fuck yeah, we did. “She mentioned going to the game and sitting in the student section, and I told her I could get her a better seat, so I did.”
“So, you saw Blair at a bar?” Knox doesn’t like the idea of his sister at a bar, which is fucking ridiculous, but whatever.
“Well, yeah. She’s twenty-one, and she was with her roommates. Don’t worry, I kept watch over her,” I reassure him, not mentioning the fact that we talked about hair pulling and if we’ve ever thought about having sex with each other. Not the kind of “watching over” Knox is hoping for.
“Thanks for that. And thanks for getting her a ticket,” Knox says as we both swivel our head in Blair’s direction to find her already watching us.
Me.
“No problem.” Our gazes connect. Hold. She lifts her hand and offers a little wave, her lips curved into the faintest smile, and my chest expands with pride, knowing that she’s here, watching me. “Anything for your sister, am I right?”
I wave at her in return and so does Knox.
“As long as you treat her like she’s your little sister and nothing else, I’m good, bro,” Knox says, his words a warning.
His words stay with me while we make random small talk. I ask about his knee. We talk about the opposing team’s defensive line. My eyes keep going to the stands where Blair sits. How the sun flashes upon her blonde hair, making it seem brighter. She’s wearing an Eagles T-shirt that I have no idea where she got, and I’m filled with the sudden need to see her wearing my number.
Fucking stupid.
By the time the first quarter starts, I’m not thinking about her any longer. All I can focus on is the game. The other team is good and they guard my receivers well. They must’ve studied past games and our fucking playbook because these assholes are hard to shake. Most of my passes throughout the first half are thrown out of bounds, just to get rid of the ball versus risking an interception.
We finally get our moment during the second half. I throw a forty-yard pass that Knox catches with ease and he runs as fast as he can into the end zone. I throw a couple of more touchdowns, which secures our win, and by the time the game is over, I’m fucking exhausted.
