9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
TEAGAN
Isit down at one of the small tables at The Buzzy Bean with a sandwich and an iced coffee. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s almost seven o’clock. After practice wrapped up for the day, I showered and came straight here, hoping to get some homework and studying done until they close at nine because I’m one hundred percent certain the second I get to the apartment and sink down onto my bed, I’ll be out like a light.
I suppose I have a right to my exhaustion. Between football, stressing over the situation with Knox, and now chasing after a girl, it makes sense I could use a little sleep.
When I told Lane I hardly had any free time to spare, I wasn’t lying. A college athlete’s schedule makes me wonder how the hell any of the guys can even find the time to date during August through January. Then again, most of my teammates are either already in a relationship or only care about no-strings hookups. Now I understand why.
Every morning, I wake around five-thirty, take a shower and examine my life choices while I eat breakfast, then get my shit together for the day. By six-thirty, I’m in the gym working on strength and conditioning with the boys. Afterward, I have just enough time to shower and hightail my ass to class.
A little after one o’clock, I get a break to take lunch, and then most days, we watch game film from two to two-thirty in the afternoon. By then, it’s time to get taped up before practice where Coach beats our asses into the ground for the next two and a half hours, sometimes more if we need extra training or skill work.
Depending on the day, we wrap up around six or six-thirty, which gives my hangry ass time to eat something and do schoolwork before my head hits the pillow.
It’s not an understatement to say a division one college football player eats, breathes, and sleeps football. It’s my fucking job and I love it. I know my time with football is limited, and so I’m trying to soak up every minute, but I’m also tired as hell.
I open my Comparative Education textbook and stare at the pages for what feels like ages. I take a bite of my sandwich while I read, but I find myself having to reread the same passage more than once because my head’s not in it. I’m too busy thinking about Lane to fucking concentrate. I’ve met the girl a mere three times, yet I can’t seem to push her out of my thoughts. She’s everywhere I look. I see her eyes in the bright blue of the sky, smell a hint of her floral citrus scent on the breeze, recall the flush in her cheeks with the blush of the setting sun. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her, and I don’t know what to fucking do with myself because it’s so damn nonsensical. Still, no matter how much I try and make sense of it, I can’t.
The only good news is, putting my focus on her takes it off Knox.
With a sigh, I give up on reading while I finish eating, content to just enjoy my food before I dive back in.
My phone vibrates from its perch on the table where I placed it facedown so it wouldn’t distract me, but since I’ve given up on studying, I peek at the screen to see a message in the group chat from one of the boys.
Jace:
How’s the lady situation? Fill us in and take my mind off my throbbing hamstrings.
Atlas:
Tell me about it, bro. In-season training is no joke. I just got back to my apartment.
Graham:
All is well over here. I only have one leg that’s tired since moving to Chicago, and it’s not the ones I’m standing on. ;)
Atlas:
Leg is an exaggeration, let’s be fair.
Jace:
More like a pinky finger.
Me:
Naw, pinky toe is most accurate.
Graham:
Laugh it up, but I have TONS of energy at the end of the day for extracurriculars.
Chris:
Ooh. Are we making sex jokes?
I snort and begin to type, skipping past the part where Coach kicked my ass yesterday and start with an update on Lane since I can’t get her out of my head, anyway.
Me:
Saw the chick again. And you’ll never believe who she is.
Chris:
WHO?!
Me:
She’s the fucking coach’s daughter.
Jace:
Shit. That could get messy.
Graham:
Kind of like dating your best friend’s sister?
Atlas:
Exactly like that.
Jace:
Assholes.
Me:
Especially when the coach spends twenty minutes introducing her and warning every single one of his players to stay the hell away from her, and that if any of us are caught asking her out or trying to hook up with her, we’re done.
Atlas:
Oof. Tough break.
Graham:
That sucks, man.
Jace:
You could always keep it a secret.
Atlas:
How’d that work out for you?
Jace:
I got the girl, didn’t I?
Chris:
He’s got a point.
Me:
Not sure it’s that simple. This chick is guarded like Fort Knox, and she’s not letting anyone break those walls. My guess is someone hurt her, but I have a plan that will solve the coach problem and get to let her guard down.
Chris:
Damn, I love a man with a plan.
Graham:
A shitty plan.
Jace:
Hey, my plan was shitty, and I got the girl, didn’t I?
Me:
We’re going to be friends.
Several minutes pass in silence and when no texts come through, I wonder if my last message didn’t send.
Me:
Hello? Did you all leave simultaneously to take a shit or something?
Chris:
A group shit. Now, that’s a new one.
Jace:
I was waiting for the plan.
Atlas:
Wait . . . is that . . . that’s the plan? Be her fucking friend?
Teagan:
Yeah, it’s brilliant.
Graham:
Aw, hell no. You friend zoned yourself? Trust me when I say that’s a bad idea. I know from experience, bro, because I did NOT get the girl.
Atlas:
Thanks for that, btw. ??
Graham:
I would say fuck you, but I ended up with Sky, so . . . you’re welcome?
Jace:
Bro, noooooo.
Chris:
Even I know that’s a bad fucking idea and I’m a moron.
Jace:
First time I’ve agreed with Chris.
Me:
Wait and hear me out. I can’t date her, right? Coach said she is off-limits, and I’m already on thin ice as it is. Plus, she’s not looking to date, remember? She’s got walls.
Me:
So, I become her friend. Think of it as going undercover or infiltrating enemy lines. I’ll be the best damn friend she’s ever had. Coach will see that and get used to me hanging around her AS A FRIEND. She opens up, and then BOOM! Before she knows what hit her, I dial up the charm and swoop in and sweep her off her feet. It’s perfect. By then, Coach will see my intentions are pure and he’ll like me so much, he’ll be more than happy to give us his blessing.
Graham:
Yeah, somehow, I don’t see it going that way.
Jace:
Dude, has Graham not taught you anything? Once you enter the friend zone, you stay in the fucking friend zone. There’s no coming back from that. You might as well cut off your dick and be done with it.
Chris:
I agree. Before you know it, you’re holding their purse while they pee in a seedy bar and giving them boy advice about “the other guy.”
Atlas:
Yup. I hate to say this, dude, but I agree with them.
Me:
Okay, assholes. Do you have any better ideas? Because from where I’m standing, I can’t see any other options.
Jace:
Pretty much ANY other option would be better.
Chris:
Show her your willy.
Atlas:
Right. Because sexual harassment is a great way to win over a chick.
Me:
It’ll work. It has to because this chick is different, and I can’t get her out of my fucking head. She’s not looking to date or hook up with other guys. In fact, I get the feeling she barely has a social life.
Chris:
Ah, a social pariah, huh? I like it. Those chicks are wild in bed.
Teagan:
What the fuck?
Jace:
Ignore him. The only date he’s had since I met him has been the standing one he has with his hand.
Chris:
Rude.
Chris:
But true.
Graham:
I don’t know, man. It could work. Just make sure to constantly hover the line and don’t wait too long to cross it.
Jace:
Shit. So we’re going with this? It’s a plan?
Me:
We’re not going with anything.
Jace:
Fine. It’s a fucking plan.
Chris:
Operation Friends-To-Lovers for the win. On three. Ready? ONE!
Jace:
TWO!
Atlas:
I’m not doing this.
Chris:
THREE!
I jog onto the field with my helmet in hand. I busted my ass getting here early so I could talk to Lane before practice, but as I exit the tunnel, I catch sight of her and my stomach lurches.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a plan to get to her before practice, because she’s not alone.
I slow my stride and curse under my breath as Chance Lockhart closes in on her.
Turning, I nod my head in greeting to Mark, but I’m distracted, and I can’t seem to help myself from turning my attention back to Lane.
The stiff set of her spine, her tightly crossed arms, and the flattening of her lips indicate she’s pissed off. I don’t need to be an expert in body language to see it, and though it should bring me some sense of relief that she’s not pleased to be the center of his attention, it doesn’t. Instead, my head is flooded with a myriad of questions, things I want to know but can’t ask.
I try not to watch them as I stretch, but my gaze gravitates toward her regardless.
What the hell is he doing talking to her?
Do they know each other?
Of course they do. Her father coached their high school team before getting the gig at Cumberland, which means they went to school together.
Grinding my teeth, I turn away from them when I can no longer take the rapid-fire thoughts.
I have zero right to be jealous. It’s no secret Chance and Coach Turner are tight, so it would stand to reason Lane has some form of relationship with him. And it’s none of my business what the parameters of it are. I promised Lane friendship, and there’s no room for jealousy among friends.
For the sake of the cause, I swallow over the hot, sticky feelings swirling in my gut.
I’m more than frustrated when practice starts before I get the chance to talk to her, and by the time it ends, the effort to focus on anything but her nearly kills me.
She steps onto the field as the guys amble off, some shooting subtle glances in her direction as she helps Mark with the tackle dummies and strike shields.
The second Coach called practice to an end, he made a beeline for the tunnel to his office, so I know it’s safe to approach as I jog toward her. Even if it weren’t, I’m not sure I’d care.
Once I reach her, I draw in a breath and steady my racing heart. “Hey.”
Lane glances over her shoulder and though she shakes her head, I take the subtle quirk of her lips as a good sign. “No tire flipping today?”
“Uh,” I laugh and scratch my head, “no. I think I’ll try and stay out of trouble, make that a onetime thing.”
She helps Mark load the last strike shield onto his truck, then turns, her blue eyes sparkling as she says, “That’s probably wise.”
“What are you doing after this?” I blurt.
She brushes past me, heading for the hydration station where she begins collecting the water bottles and placing them in the baskets. “I have to finish up here, and then I’m headed home, but I still have some loose ends to tie up first. Busy, remember?”
“I remember.” I smile. “I remember everything you say, but you still have to eat, right? Do you have dinner plans?”
She pauses. “Not specifically, no.”
“Can I interest you in pizza across town?”
She grabs the last of the bottles and begins to load them in a metal cart with a pulley. “I have to go pick up Sophie, and before you ask, no, my father might work here, but he can’t do it. If I know him, he’ll be in his office for another hour.”
I shrug. “So bring her.”
Surprise flickers through her eyes before she schools her expression. “And this isn’t a date?”
“Nope. I’ll even let you pay for your pizza if you want.” Though it will kill me to do so. Call me old-fashioned. Call me whatever the hell you want, but when I take a girl out, friend or not, I like to pay.
She stares at me for a moment, as if she’s trying to dissect my thoughts, or maybe it’s my motives she’s after. Actually, I’m sure it’s the latter. But I’m not sure I care because after a moment, she nods and says, “I need to finish cleaning up the equipment before I pick up Sophie. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?”