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Cohen is gone in an instant and the moment he is, Blair is shaking my arm off her shoulders, turning to glare up at me.
“You drove him away.” Her tone is accusatory.
“And I don’t get a thank you?”
“You just did it in such an…intimidating way,” she says.
“How else did you expect me to get rid of him? He was all over you.” I saw red. I wanted to fuck that guy up. All because he wassmilingat Blair.
Smiling.
Oh yeah, and staring at her tits.
Why did I get so pissed just now over some dumb guy? Over Blair?
Because you like her, you idiot.
“He wasn’t all over me. Not really.” I hate that she defends him, but then she adds, “It was kind of weird how he knew so much about my family, though. That was a little off-putting.”
She crosses her arms in front of her, which plumps up her breasts, causing them to rise above the fabric of her dress a little. I’m fairly positive she’s not wearing a bra and that realization causes my insides to go a little haywire.
“I’m not surprised.” I’m more surprised that I’m defending the asshole. “Your family is pretty famous. We all like talking about your dad and uncle. And your cousins.”
“Yeah, but you don’t feel this constant need to mention them all the time. That guy latched on to it and couldn’t stop talking about them. It’s just—it’s weird sometimes. Still.” She drops her arms, shrugging.
“Your dad was famous,” I remind her.
“When I was younger. I don’t remember a lot of it. And he wasn’t nearly as popular as Uncle Drew.” She pauses, her gaze meeting mine. “That sort of thing could happen to you, you know. In fact, I think it’s definitely going to happen.”
I scoff, stuffing down the surge of pleasure I feel at her words. “Yeah, right.”
No way can I count on it. Shit changes on a dime. I’ll be praised and loved one minute, torn apart and ravaged the next. Everything hinges on how I play this season.
Everything.
“I’m being serious. You’ll end up in the draft and you’ll get picked up pretty fast. By the third or fourth round at least. And when you take your new team far, which I have no doubt you’ll do exactly that, then you’ll be famous too. A celebrity. Like my uncle. The quarterbacks always get all the attention.” She peers at me, like she’s trying to look deep into my mind. My soul. “Are you prepared for that?”
I’m not even focused on her asking if I’m prepared for so-called fame. I’m too caught up on the fact that she has no doubts in regard to my success. She actually believes I’ll be in the NFL one day and that I’ll be successful.
That feels…good. Fucking awesome, really. No one has that sort of faith in me. My parents are too wrapped up in their own problems to worry about me. My brother probably doesn’t even remember my name. My teammates don’t say shit like that because we’re all so focused on our own selves, and I totally understand that. I get it. I’m too wrapped up in my own shit too.
My coaches tell me I can do it, but they also share their doubt with me. Or they add the word “if” to every sentence.
If you have a good season.
If you don’t get injured.
If you make it into the draft.
If you get picked up.
If. If. if.
Blair just flat out said I’ll make it. Her belief in me is that solid.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll worry about it when it happens.” I shrug, trying to play it cool. Like I don’t have a single concern in the world about my future.
“Oh, come on. You know it’s going to happen.” She reaches out to swat at my chest and I grab her wrist, keeping her hand pinned to my chest. She doesn’t struggle to get away. She doesn’t make any demands either.
