Chapter Twelve #3
“I’m not weird,” I said, looking around to make sure none of my teammates were eavesdropping. “And how would you know, anyway? You’ve been in the new parent twilight zone.”
“Doesn’t take eight hours of sleep to see that my best friend has been distracted.”
“I have not.”
Clay smirked. “That sounded defensive.”
Holden leaned closer to the camera like he was investigating a crime scene.
Kyle leaned up onto his elbows. “You sure this doesn’t have anything to do with a certain tattooed dancer on the sidelines?”
I gritted my teeth as the guys had their fun, some of them whistling, some waggling their brows, all of them leaning in with shit-eating grins.
Heat crept up the back of my neck, and I hoped like hell that heat wasn’t showing as a flush against my skin. “You guys are idiots.”
“Is it us who’s the idiot? Or is it the player flirting with a dancer even though it’s against the rules?” Kyle debated.
Giana popped back into frame like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh, my God! Forbidden is truly a slept-on trope. The tension.” She folded her fingers together and kissed them like a chef marveling at their creation.
“There is no trope and no tension,” I grumbled.
“Interesting. Because didn’t she go car shopping with you over the summer?”
Shit.
I’d let it slip to Kyle one night at his house that Emily had been with me when I bought the Bronco. I thought I’d covered it well enough for him not to think a thing about it.
Apparently, I was wrong.
I schooled my emotions, cracking my neck and feigning indifference. “She happened to be in the lot when my car broke down and she offered to go with me. It was nothing.”
“If it was nothing, wouldn’t you have just said no, thanks?” Leo argued.
“Yeah. He also probably wouldn’t be drooling all over himself every time we have a break and his eyes fly to where she is on the sidelines.” Kyle winked. “Don’t think I don’t see that, brother.”
“You don’t see shit — least of all the ball, seeing as how you had two drops in a preseason game last week.”
That had everyone laughing and oohing at Kyle’s expense. He flattened his lips. “It was our backup QB and his throws are sloppy.”
“Say that to his face,” I dared.
“I will. And I’ll say this again to yours.” Kyle pointed at the screen. “You’ve been distracted.”
I leaned back against the locker, jaw tightening.
“I’m not distracted,” I said.
Kyle watched me for another second, like he was trying to decide whether to push it further.
Then his grin softened.
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe I’m wrong.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Leo mumbled.
“Or the tenth,” Holden added.
Kyle stuck his tongue out and shifted his head side to side at both of them in a mocking manner. But as the guys continued to jest, I swore Kyle’s eyes were looking at me, that he was asking me wordlessly if I really did have a handle on the situation.
Because out of all my friends, he knew what was really on the line for me.
Holden clapped once. “All right boys. Game time.”
“Go kill it,” Leo said.
“Don’t die,” Riley added.
“Text after,” Clay whispered.
Kyle gave a quick nod before the call dropped.
The screen went back to the group text, my playlist bursting back to life in my ears at the same time.
It was too loud now, the music startling, and I closed out of my music app completely.
But I didn’t take the headphones off. Instead, I sat there in the muted quiet the noise-cancelling technology provided, my eyes on my cleats.
The locker room noise still found me — music thumping, cleats scraping tile, the low murmur of guys getting ready to take the field.
But I just stared at my feet.
Kyle was right.
I had been distracted.
It didn’t matter how hard I’d fought not to be, how successful I’d been in not texting Emily or falling victim to my desire to make an excuse to see her since that day we were both at the stadium for team promo.
The fact was that she still took up space in my mind, and that was a real fucking problem — especially heading into a season with my contract riding on the line.
I wasn’t in college anymore. This wasn’t harmless flirting.
This was the NFL.
Everything was at stake here — my career, my future, my family.
Blood roared in my ears as I numbly tucked my phone away and grabbed my helmet instead, ready to head out to the field for warmups with the rest of the team.
Had I really been so tied up over this girl that I’d been willing to risk what I’d worked my ass off to build?
I jogged out with the rest of the team toward the tunnel, the roar of the stadium swelling as we burst onto the field. It wasn’t as loud as it would be come regular season, but it was still enough to rumble through me like an earthquake.
Or maybe that was the distinct sound of my resolve snapping back into place.
The dancers were warming up on the sidelines, too. I knew it, even though I didn’t let myself look. I couldn’t risk getting mesmerized by those sequins catching the lights, by those pompoms flashing.
By her.
I ran past them without turning my head.
But I swore I could feel her gaze boring into me like she wasn’t going to let me get away with forgetting her so easily.