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“Hey.” I glance around the room, wishing I would spot Blair’s familiar blonde head so I could get away from this woman but no such luck.
“How are you?”
“I’m good.” I hesitate, staring at her face. Do I know her? Did I hook up with her before? Shit, I can’t remember and I feel like a shithead. “How are you?”
“Fantastic. Glad that you’re here. You were awesome in yesterday’s game,” she gushes before she takes a big gulp from her cup.
“Thanks.” I see a blonde in the distance. “Nice seeing you.”
I start to walk, the girl calling after me, “Let’s catch up soon!”
Yeah. More like never.
It goes on like this for a few minutes. I keep running into women, who are overly familiar with me, and I don’t know if they’re just acting this way to make conversation with me or if I actually know them. The more this happens, the worse I feel, and when I finally spot a familiar face—Ace’s—I’m actually glad.
And I am rarely glad to see this kid. He makes me feel old. He makes me feel like he’s gunning for my position and I can’t trust him. I hate that.
Though the feeling old part is the worst of it.
If I continue on with football, am I going to feel like that for the entirety of my career? Constantly worried that someone else is eager and ready to take my place? A couple of mistakes and the coaching staff could be ready to get rid of me. A bad season could mean I get traded. An injury could mean I’m out for the season. Or even out for good.
All of that shit is nerve-racking. I’ve been a lucky son of a bitch the past three seasons. I’ve had some hard sacks. Been injured a couple of times, but nothing too serious. I need to sail through this season and then I’ll be free.
Only to torture myself and hope I get picked up in the NFL draft.
“My number one QB,” is how Ace greets me when I get close enough to hear him. He’s currently surrounded by a posse of women, and they are all watching him with adoration in their eyes. He slaps me on the back. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I smile at the women who are all watching me with interest flaring in their gazes before I return my focus to Ace. “There are a lot of people here.”
“Isn’t it great? I didn’t think we’d have as big a bash since it’s a Sunday, but here we are.” He spreads his arms out wide, indicating the packed frat house, and I can’t help but smile at him. He seems so damn pleased with himself. “Helps that people like you show up. Tried to invite Maguire, but he didn’t respond. Was kind of hoping you’d bring him with you.”
“He wasn’t home when I left.” Pretty normal for Knox. Sometimes he holes up in the library on Sunday night to do homework. He did that a lot last year, and it helped him to focus and keep up his grades.
“That’s too bad. I’d like to get to know him better. I’d love to get to know you better too, but you guys are always out on the field while I’m sitting on the sidelines.” His smile is completely unassuming, and I almost don’t know how to take his comment. Is he bashing on us?
Or is he just that freaking nice?
“I saw Blair earlier.” He drops the comment casually and that gets my attention.
“Oh yeah?” I try to play it cool, but I’m desperate to find her.
“Yeah.” He leans in closer, his voice lowering. “I thought you two were a thing.”
“Why would you think that?” I work hard to keep my expression completely neutral, but I feel like I’m going to crack under the sudden pressure.
Why the hell would he assume Blair and I are together?
“You two looked pretty cozy last night.”
“We did?”
“I saw your hand on her thigh.” He sends me a look, one that says I know what you two are up to. “I get it if you don’t want to say anything to Maguire. From what I’ve observed, he’s pretty overprotective of his sister.”
Fuck. He saw that? And here I thought we were being discreet.
“It was nothing.”
“That’s what she said.”
