Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Not my finest moment.
But one I’ve made sure to never ever repeat again.
Ever.
Because of this, I’ve limited my water intake during the game. It’s not advisable, and the Pioneers trainer doesn’t like it, but I have to do whatever it takes to keep my bathroom antics off social media.
Coach is drawing on the whiteboard like a frantic man when I come back into the meeting room. Most of the guys mumble in agreement with him when he asks a question. More often the questions are rhetorical, but the coaching staff pays attention to who is listening. It’s nice when we’re winning because Coach reminds us of what we need to do to continue—strong defense, smart passes—shit like that.
I go around the room and pat my offensive line on their shoulders to hype them up. We’re doing a great job. Westbury hasn’t been sacked once. And we’ve only had ten yards in penalties. That’s a win in my book. Now, we just have to take our first half momentum into the last half of the game. We have to dig deep and hold the line.
We jog back onto the field, and I do everything I can not to look in the direction of where Kelsey should be sitting. I fail, miserably. She’s not here. Honestly, she doesn’t strike me as the type of person who would show up mid-game. If I had to put money on it, I’d say she’s someone who is fifteen minutes early for everything, which is the way things should be.
I try not to let the absence of Kelsey interfere with my game. I have a job to do, whether she’s here or not. Besides, we shared two kisses. The second happened when I walked her to her door. There was no tongue action with either of them. I like to think there would’ve been more, if I didn’t have to be at the field for a six a.m. workout.
The final horn sounds. Dumbfounded, I stand there and stare at the scoreboard. We’ve won, but I can’t recall a single play or touchdown from the game. It’s like I floated through the entire afternoon, musing about Kelsey, when I should’ve focused on my job.
Back in the locker room, I sit in front of my locker and wonder how I managed to play one of the most challenging and dangerous games out there but can’t remember a damn thing about it. Did I get hit? I shake my head, knowing full well that if I got hit, the trainer would’ve checked me for a concussion. Coach doesn’t mess around with brain injuries.
After taking my gear off and dumping my uniform in the laundry bin, I head to the shower. Jessie McAvoy is singing show tunes, while the rest of the guys tell him to shut up. His current favorite is Hamilton. The songs are catchy, and after seeing the traveling production, I learned a crap ton about the revolution. Had history been taught this way back in school, I would’ve paid more attention.
The hot water feels good on my sore muscles. Tomorrow is a rest, relaxation, and massage day. The highlight of my week. I’m going to spend some time formulating a plan on how to woo Kelsey. I like her and I like spending time with her. A relationship may not be in the cards for us, and honestly, I should probably not jump into one so soon after Maggie, but I want to hang out with her and show her around. Hell, I want to see her at the game, cheering me on. Even if we’re only friends.
Except, I don’t want to be just a friend to her. I enjoyed the chaste little kiss I gave her and definitely wanted to explore where kissing could lead us. Still do.
“Who has plans for tonight?” someone hollers out. I can’t tell who, but it’s probably one of the single guys looking to go downtown for the night. At best, he and whoever ends up going will find themselves in a sports bar, trying to hide who they are under ballcaps. A few of the others grumble about going home. Me, I say nothing. I’m tossing the idea of heading over to Kelsey’s and being all nonchalant about the game. But then I think women might not like a man who’s in your face and being forward. The dreaded “my mom said you had to play with me” line is very much the same when it comes to dating—no one wants to be forced to hang out with anyone. I sigh heavily and toss my wet towel into my locker where it lands with a dull thud. It doesn’t have the same effect as throwing my helmet or shoes in there. Instead, it slides down until it’s in a wet pile on top of my other stuff.