Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“You getting anywhere with her?” She seems pretty resistant to any schoolboy shenanigans, but what do I know?
“Progress is slow, but it’s being made. Anything worthwhile takes effort.”
“Not the Ms. Funnel spiel,” sighs Tucker Yates. He’s our star wide receiver. A position dinner is a once-a-week thing where everyone playing a similar position gets together. The receiver corps is made up of wide receivers and tight ends. There are eight of us. Smurf has been a starter since he was a freshman and is fast. I’m bigger and stronger, but he could outrun me in a footrace. Yates is somehow faster. Plus, he has good hands and runs good routes. They both like me because I’m good at blocking and an absolute beast in the redzone. Apply pressure and I’m even better. I’ve got sticky fingers, meaning that anything that’s thrown in my direction, I’m catching. It does help that at six foot four, I’m taller than most of the defensive backs and corners that try to defend me.
“What’s wrong with me saying that perseverance is rewarded?”
“There’s a limit when perseverance becomes dumbassery, and you’re reaching it. You’ve only got a semester and a half left. When are you going to make a move?”
“I can’t get my fav fired, now can I?”
“He’s got a point.” I wave over a waitress. “Can you get us eight burger specials with extra sides of onion rings and loaded baked potatoes?”
“No onion rings for me.” Tucker waves his hands. “I’ve got a post-dinner date tonight.”
“I thought it was no-nut November,” I remind my teammate.
“Smurf’s our captain, right? We’re not sticking to that rule that Roman Park made up.” Tucker sends a pleading glance in Smurf’s direction.
Smurf shifts uncomfortably and then sighs. “Look, as long as we win, you can do anything, but if you drop even one ball, then Park will have the O-line serve our balls to us at our next position dinner.” He makes a finger gun and points it at me. “So you better watch yourself with Fleur.”
“I can walk and chew gum at the same time,” I reply.
The rest of our teammates arrive at the same time as the food. We demolish everything in about thirty minutes. Smurf gives us a brief review on a couple special plays and some defenses that Washington South likes to run, and then we’re off.
Tucker waves me over to his truck. “Wait here,” he says. He reaches inside the back and pulls out a bottle of mouthwash. “Cuz of your onion rings.”
I swish my mouth clean and spit out the remainder of the fluid. “Thanks.”
“We’re teammates, so we’ve got to stick together. Besides, we can’t have Fleur writing about how football players stink. It’s bad for our reputation. You’re representing the entire team now. Don’t let us down.” He smacks me on my back.
“Shit, cuz, I’m not the one who fumbled two passes in practice today. I’d be careful about letting someone near my sack if I ever had the dropsies.” I tsk my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
“You only get two passes in a game. You have to make them count,” Tucker retorts. He tightens the cap on the mouthwash bottle and tosses it into the back seat. “I’m off. Remember. Reputation.”
“Okay, Tucker Swift, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I’m with Fleur.” I roll my eyes.
The last thing I’m going to be thinking about with Fleur is the football team. I arrive at her apartment complex and take the stairs two at a time. I raise my hand to knock, but the sound of shouting behind the door makes me pause.
“Dammit, Fleur, where are my goddamned shoes? Did you wear them?”
There’s a muffled reply that I can’t make out.
“You must’ve because I can’t find them. I told you not to touch my stuff. I’m supposed to meet Richard in thirty minutes, and I need those shoes. No, I can’t wear those. He likes stilettos. You have to learn to please a man, Fleur, or you’re going to end up alone. Is that what you want? To be sitting by yourself, lonely, looking like something not even a drunk man would touch?”
I inhale swiftly. Is this what her home life is like? Fuck, I can’t let her be run down like this. I bang on the door. It flies open, and a slender woman with bright red hair greets me with suspicious eyes. “Who are you?” she demands angrily, and then her pinched expression turns soft. “My, my, my, the delivery boys are getting more attractive every day. Come on in, honey. I don’t remember what I ordered.”
Over her head, I make eye contact with Fleur. Her face is pale, and the spark in her eyes is gone. She looks like she’s never wanted to see anyone less in her life.