Chapter 5 – Beau
BEAU
On Wednesday night, I head over to a teammate’s off-campus house with the rest of the guys. A lot of students went home for the long weekend, but anyone who didn’t is ready to cut loose.
We have an early open practice tomorrow. Family members that are in town for Thanksgiving can come by and watch us, and then there’s a luncheon for everyone. It’s a nice way to make sure everyone gets to have a holiday meal because a lot of guys have families too far away to make it.
My mom and dad flew in earlier tonight. We did the team dinner and then they went back to the hotel to crash.
My skin itches from the small interaction.
Football is everything to Beau Ricci Sr. I come from a long line of football players.
My grandpa led his team to a state championship in high school.
My dad and his three brothers all wore a jersey, but none of them went on to play college ball.
My dad had a shot, but then blew out his knee his last year of high school.
From an early age, football was this magical, almost religious thing my family did and expected me to continue. At get-togethers, we’d hurry through the meal to get a game going. There’s more anticipation for Super Bowl Sunday than Christmas.
I’ve always enjoyed playing. I like the mental and physical challenge, and the stability it’s brought to my life.
When I was having a bad day, my dad would pick up the football and we’d work it out by tossing it back and forth until I couldn’t remember what it was that had me down.
Work it out on the field, that’s our motto.
We aren’t a family that talks things out; we solve problems with sweat.
I didn’t question it when I was younger. It was in my blood. Riccis play football. But ever since I got to college, it’s started to feel like the hopes and dreams of every man in my family are resting on my shoulders.
Every game is another opportunity for me to hear how I’m screwing it all up. All my dad could talk about tonight was how my performance this season wasn’t going to cut it in the NFL.
I love football, but I have no idea if I have what it takes to play professionally or if that’s even what I want.
I know I can’t imagine listening to him critique every game I play for the rest of my life.
He rides my ass harder than my coaches. He’s already sent a text with bullet points from dinner.
You know, in case I didn’t hear him the first time.
“Ricci! You made it.” Aaron lifts his chin in acknowledgement as I walk into the living room where several of my teammates are sitting around, beers in hand. A group of girls are huddled up on the couch, whispering and giggling.
“Hey.” I lift a hand and let my gaze roam around the room in a hello to everyone.
“Heads up,” someone yells, and a beer is tossed in my direction.
I catch it in one hand and take a seat in a wooden chair that’s been moved from the dining room for extra seating. “Thanks.”
The guys are playing video games, so I crack open the cold beer and lean back to watch. As soon as the cold liquid trickles down my throat, I feel the tension from dinner start to fade. After dealing with my dad, I need to tackle someone on the football field or numb my senses a bit.
Jenny, a girl I made out with one drunken night after a game, stands from where she was sitting on the couch with her friends and comes toward me.
“Hey, Beau. I texted you. Is your phone still broken?”
Aaron coughs and nearly spits out his beer.
“Sorry,” he tries to get himself under control. “Wrong pipe.”
“I’ve been busy,” I tell her. Not untrue, but could I have found time to hit her back? Considering how many texts I’ve exchanged with Stella in the past few days, I think the answer to that is definitely yes.
She rolls her eyes, laughs, and plops in my lap before I realize what she’s doing. “How do you feel about beer pong?”
“I feel great about it.” I lift her off me and then stand. I grab another beer from the kitchen for later and jog down the stairs after her.
We join some buddies just starting a new game. My muscles relax as I concentrate on sinking the ball into the other team’s cups. The music is a nice distraction too, so loud it’s hard to carry a conversation.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I groan, assuming it’s my dad texting with another critique or fifteen but am pleasantly surprised when I see the message is from someone I want to talk to.
Stella
Guess what?!
One side of my mouth quirks up.
Me
You won the lottery?
Stella
I wish, but no.
Me
Aced a test?
Stella
Even better than that.
Me
Took a five-hour nap, woke up and had a cheeseburger.
Me
No, TWO cheeseburgers.
Stella
Well, now I’m hungry, but no.
Me
I’m out of guesses. What amazing thing happened to you?
Me
Wait. You met a guy?
A hint of jealousy pulses through me in beat with the music.
Stella
No. I was named athlete of the month at Valley U! I got a fancy plaque with my name on it and everything.
She sends along a picture of herself holding up the plaque. Damn. She’s even more gorgeous than I remember.
“Do you want to come with me and some friends to Sigma?” Jenny makes her way in front of me and looks up at me with big, blue eyes.
I slide my phone back in my pocket. “For what?”
She giggles. “To keep hanging out, silly.”
Do I? A hint of annoyance still thrums through me. How many more beers is it going to take?
“Beau?” Her brows pull together as she stares at me, waiting for an answer.
“Nah. I don’t think so.”
“Come on.” She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout.
I shake my head.
“What if we go back to my place instead?”
“No thanks. I think I’m going to call it an early night.”
“You?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s early. Come on.” She wraps an arm around my bicep and tugs.
I don’t know if it’s her inability to hear the word no or lingering frustration from the encounter with my dad earlier, but I feel like I’m going to explode. And I guess since I have whistling on the brain, that’s what I do.
I’m a little rusty, but I manage to get out a little sound.
Jenny’s head tilts and jaw drops, like she isn’t sure what to say or do. So, I keep whistling. I raise my brows and step around her. I guess it is annoying.
I let my buddies know I’m out for the next game and weave around the downstairs, avoiding Jenny (though I’m prepared to start whistling again if needed), and then head back upstairs.
Off the kitchen is a small balcony. I step out and pull my phone from my pocket. I’m tapping out a reply to Stella’s last text when my phone rings with a FaceTime call. Stella. I am taken aback, but my adrenaline’s pumping.
I accept the call and bring the phone in front of my face. “Hey.”
Stella appears, eyes wide. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to call you.”
She disappears, and the camera flips, so I’m seeing the floor and what I assume are Stella’s bare feet. There’s faint noise in the background. Maybe a TV.
“I’m gonna hang up now.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up. I’m glad you called.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. I was just about to text you, but this is easier.”
There’s some rustling and then the camera flips again.
“Hey,” I say, taking in her wet hair and bare shoulders, the tentative smile on her lips.
“Hi. I am so embarrassed. I just got out of the shower.” She tips the phone to show me the top of the blue, fluffy towel wrapped around her. “Where are you?”
“Some of my team—” I start and then catch myself. “A house party off-campus. Congrats on athlete of the month. That’s huge.”
I lean against the railing, smiling at the girl I’ve been talking to nonstop since this weekend. And for the first time all night, I don’t want to punch a wall.
“Thanks.” She beams at me.
“What are you up to tonight? Getting ready to go out?”
“No. I don’t think so. Holly went out with a couple of girls on our floor, but I had a late practice, and my parents will be here tomorrow morning for the football game. I’m just not feeling it tonight. One second. I need both hands to get dressed.”
“Actually, I’m just about to head out. I’m not really feeling it tonight either. Can I call you back when I get to my dorm?”
“Yeah.” She hits me with a smile that has my heart rate picking up speed.
It only takes seven minutes to walk home. I pull on sweats and a T-shirt before calling Stella back.
This time when she appears, the hesitant smile is gone. “Look what I have.”
She lifts up a cheeseburger in one hand that makes my stomach growl. “Oh, that looks good.”
“It is.” She makes a big show of taking a bite and chewing. Her eyes fall closed, and she moans. A moan that goes straight to my dick.
She finishes chewing and asks, “How was the party?”
I clear my throat. “Fine.”
“So fine you ditched it early? Is everything okay?”
“Long day,” I admit. “I should thank your ex, though.”
“My ex?”
“Yeah. I used his trick.”
“I don’t follow.” Her brown eyes squint at me.
I tell her the story of how I whistled until Jenny was uncomfortable and confused.
“You didn’t.”
“She wasn’t taking no for an answer, and I was getting annoyed.”
Stella covers her mouth with a hand as she laughs. “That’s hilarious. Is this Jenny chick an ex?”
“Not exactly. We made out. Once. I’m not really interested in dating anyone right now.”
“Right. You don’t have time.” She uses air quotes, throwing my words back at me.
“It’s true. Football takes up so much of my time—” I stop abruptly, the end of the sentence hanging between us. My face goes hot. Ah shit. I wanted to tell her, but not like this.
“Did you say football?” she asks the question slowly, like she isn’t sure she heard me right.
“Don’t freak out.”
“Why would I freak out?” Stella sits a little straighter, and I swear I can see the stoic mask pulling down over her features.
“I play football at Colorado.”
“Why would you not tell me that?”
“I’m also from Arizona originally. I went to Rochester High School.”
“I know that school. It’s not far from where I went.” Her tone is somewhere between confused and surprised.
“Yeah.” I swallow around a lump the size of a golf ball. “We played your school.”
Realization dawns. I can see it the second it happens. All the sass and playfulness that I’ve come to expect from Stella is gone. “You know Felix.”
“Yeah. We’ve been playing against each other since we were kids.”
I hate the hurt in her voice when she says, “You acted like you had no idea who I was.”
“I didn’t at first. Not until you told me your name. I hoped it was a weird coincidence, but after you ran to your flight, I looked you up.”
“That was days ago. Why didn’t you tell me? I feel like such an idiot.”
“I should have told you. I wanted to, but then I thought it might make things weird. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care that you play football.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious. Who cares?”
“You might not, but your brother won’t like it. We’ve had a rivalry for years. He is not my biggest fan.”
“Look, no offense, but Felix has a lot of guys gunning to beat him. He probably doesn’t even know who you are.”
I could almost laugh, it’s so preposterous. “Oh, he knows.”
“Are you any good?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
She gives her head a shake, making the red strands catch the light. “Are you sure? I didn’t have you pegged as a football player.”
“You want proof?”
She nods.
I stand and take the phone with me, flipping the camera to show her my bag on the floor. I scrounge around until I find a smelly practice jersey, tape, gloves, and some eye black.
“I probably have a cup in here somewhere too if you want to see that.”
“No.” She sighs. “I believe you. You’re either a football player or really committed to the lie.”
“And?”
Another big sigh puffs out her cheeks. “I don’t know.”