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Carter: See you second period.
I’m in trouble. Messaging him had been a rash decision last night because I’d been waiting outside the stadium for a good half hour. After watching several players and staff leave, it was easy to be pissed even more at him, so I sent him the text as a means to make myself feel better. I wanted to see him in person, tell him not to mess with my parents to his absurdly handsome face, and then I’d stupidly admitted he’s screwing with my feelings.
It may very well have been dumb to say it aloud, but I’m aware he clearly is because I keep glancing at the door until the second period bell rings. And then he appears right on time, two coffees in hand along with a paper sack. And as much as I need the coffee, I’m excited to see the person holding the beverages.
He passes me one of the paper cups, leaning over as he says, “E.J. was wrong. You look extra gorgeous today.” Stepping back, he pulls up a chair, casually taking a seat as he sips from his matching cup.
I take it back.
I’m not in trouble.
I’m wholly, completely, utterly screwed.
16
CARTER
She fumbles around with some notebooks on her desk before finally relaxing and enjoying her coffee. But she’s still avoiding looking my way. But she’s not telling me to leave. After her reaction last night to the signing news, I really thought I’d messed it all up. But maybe things can work out after all. Brooks will be happy to hear it.
“Why don’t you come to the game tonight?”
Shock crosses her face before it’s masked with annoyance. “I have plans to clean up a feed store tonight thanks to someone.”
“The crew should be there helping, so I’m sure they can spare you for a few hours.” Because I really want her at the game.
“Itwouldbe a good time to catch up on my sleep, I need a few extra z’s.” She grins as she lifts the cups to her lips to take a sip. “But I already told my dad I’d help out tonight.”
“Then I’ll meet you there after the game.”
“We’ll probably be done before that. I mean… gosh, I hope so, anyway.”
“Then let me take you out on a real date tonight.”
She remains silent for a second before saying, “But I thought we’re already set for the third date.”
“I definitely think this calls for a fourth date on Thursday with the third one tonight.”
“I have class in the morning. And don’t you have to practice or something?”
“Then I guess we’ll have to squeeze in some more coffee dates until this weekend when you don’t have an early class.”
She shifts uncomfortably. “Aren’t you starting tonight?”
The fact that she knows that makes me happier than it should. “Yep.”
“You should probably be focusing on that, then. Oh, speaking of focusing, Coach Garcia asked if you could give his players a quick word of encouragement. Apparently, it’s been a rough season for the team.”
“I can handle that. And my attention is focused exactly where it needs to be.” My season is going excellent—I’m three for three—and I’m finally making some progress with the stunning woman in front of me. I can’t describe what it feels like for her to actually see me for me, to take me at face value without factoring in all the other added bullshit. It’s an astounding experience.
She shifts, a slight bit of unease as she masks it with what I’ve learned is her go-to defense of sarcasm. “You sure are certain of yourself, as usual.”
On the field, yes. “Hard work and determination haven’t let me down yet.”
“Hardheadedness is more like it.”
“Youhave no room to talk, Ms. W.” I smile at her eye roll, an annoyed acknowledgement of defeat. “But I do need you to tell me one very important detail.” Her unease grows a bit before I ask, “Danish, croissant, fruit, or muffin?”
“Muffin.”
