Chapter 16
We’re seven minutes into the first preseason game, and I’ve already got the itch to hop on the field. And not because the backups are royally screwing up, it’s because I love this game so fucking much and all I want to do is play it.
I smile to myself, nodding at the rookie getting a few snaps and making me proud.
The rest of the offense is playing well too. Preseason is a good time to be able to see how these guys bring what we’ve been doing in practice to a live game. Stakes are higher and hits are harder, but so far they seem to be taking it in stride.
During a quick game break, my eyes leave the field and scan the perimeter, looking for the pair of eyes I’ve missed this week.
“There she is,” I say to myself, smiling as my eyes land on Demi.
Is it possible for someone to get prettier every time you lay eyes on them? She’s standing near the tunnel, a stack of papers in one hand, and the other propped on her hip in true Demi fashion as she talks with Abby.
Her hair is up in a ponytail and her curls bounce every time she moves her head. She’s in a black skirt and sneakers with a blazer over a white shirt.
I sigh, my tongue darting between my lips as I inhale a deep breath.
Every time I see her, I just can’t believe there’s someone this beautiful alive at the same time as me and I get to even be in her presence, let alone be her friend.
Within seconds, my view is blocked as Chase steps in front of me, Ford and Nate join him a moment later, and we’ve now created a four-person square on the sidelines. We probably look like we’re gossiping with how close we’re all standing, but to be fair it’s loud in here.
“Have you guys watched Love is Blind?”
Chase’s question throws me for a loop. Reality television, really?
Nate’s the first to ask what we’re all thinking. “Have you?”
“I’ve seen it.” Ford grabs his hat from his head, shaking his hair a bit before putting it back on.
“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard of it,” I admit. “You’ve sat and watched it?” I turn to Ford.
“Yeah.” He’s so nonchalant in his answer as he shrugs. “Abby watches it, sometimes I catch an episode or two. It’s entertaining, don’t knock it until you try it.”
“And you?” I ask Nate.
“I’ve never watched it. I only learned about it maybe two weeks ago from my sisters.”
The perk of no sisters is being completely unaware of anything trending, ever.
“Are you about to tell us you’re an avid watcher, big daddy?” I direct my attention to Chase, smirking as I do.
“If Summer has it on, I’ll watch it. And he’s right,” he says, gesturing to Ford.
“Yeah?” Ford perks up. “What season are you on?” The energy coming from Ford makes me pull back as I look at him.
“Is it any good?” Nate asks.
“No fucking clue what season we’re on.” Chase’s face contorts. I get the feeling he didn’t even know there were multiple seasons. “Summer has been watching it, and I originally told her I thought it looked stupid, but it fucking sucks you in.”
“They get married without seeing each other, right?” I ask.
“They get engaged without seeing each other,” Ford emphasizes.
“Really?” Nate sounds intrigued.
“Yeah, it’s wild. I don’t know if I could do that,” Ford continues. “Not that someone’s appearance is everything, but I just think it would be really hard to ask someone to marry me if I’ve never been face-to-face with them.”
“The concept is cool,” Chase says. “Forces you to really get to know someone.”
“So, you’re really into it then?” Nate asks.
“Kind of. It’s reality television, so take that for what it’s worth.” Chase shrugs.
The clock has been ticking, and our offense hasn’t scored anything so far this half, but neither has the other team so it’s still anyone’s game. The two-minute warning is about to hit, and I’ll take that as my go-ahead to start toward the locker room when it does.
“Well, I’m really happy for you.” My hand palms Chase’s shoulder. “It sounds like Summer is really adding some spice to your life. There’s more on television than just the animal documentaries you watch.” I smile, taking myself two steps away from them.
“Hey.” He points at me. “Those are educational and fun.”
Along with a few other starters, I begin making my way toward the tunnel.
I can’t fucking wait for this season to start and to be out there playing, but for these couple weeks I give my body the additional time before I’m having to scramble away from three-hundred-pound guys who want to throw me to the ground.
Demi’s busy in conversation with Abby, and I see one of the sideline photographers staring at both of them.
He’s clearly not interested in the game happening to his right as his focus is on the girls.
I watch him the entire time I’m walking.
He finally turns back toward the field and crouches down near the end zone where he’s ready to snap a photo if something happens.
But this guy must be new—either that, or he’s just a fucking creep with zero decency or respect. I don’t miss when he pivots on his bent knee, moving the camera in the direction of Abby and Demi.
What the hell? I speed up so I’m a little closer, and it hits me that both of them are wearing skirts. Or at least Abby’s in some kind of jersey dress thing.
“Hey!” I yell, grabbing his attention, the girl’s attention, and anyone within a ten-yard earshot to be quite honest. “Get up,” I demand, throwing my thumb in the air as I approach him. “Camera faces that way,” I say, pointing toward the field.
He’s standing and his eyes nervously dart between the tunnel and the field, barely making contact with mine.
“Hey, yeah, of course.” His words are muffled and rushed.
“Point your camera at any woman like that again, and I’ll make sure you never hold one again.”
He doesn’t work for the league, but he’s local media, and I can see the lanyard hanging around his neck that he was given credentials to be down on the field tonight. I’ll make sure that’s swiftly revoked.
“Hey, man, I think you have the wrong idea. I wasn’t doing anything.” His words are hurried.
“Your camera was angled up and pointed at two women ten yards away from you. The game is in the opposite direction. Let’s remember why you’re here, shall we?” I gesture toward the field.
Men who don’t respect women are the most despicable fuckers on earth. It really makes me want to take a fist to his face, but I know that isn’t the answer, so I land on a different kind of blow.
“I hope you enjoyed the first half, buddy. You won’t be around for the second.” I sneer at him, walking away. I’m just steps away from Demi and Abby now.
“What was that?” Abby charges me, all five foot seven of her, and I peer down.
“Me saving your husband and brother from a suspension and a fine at the least. Charges at most. You’re welcome.”
My hands grip the sides of Abby’s arms lightly and I kiss the top of her head as I pivot past. Demi doesn’t say anything to me, but she watches me as I walk by, and I don’t miss the subtle nod and faint smile she hands me as I do.
I can bounce back from a bad call, a bad mood, or even a bad day pretty quickly.
I think it’s part of some coping mechanism I learned as a kid.
Letting myself sit in any kind of emotion was frowned upon—heavily.
Even with success, when I’d win games or have a great day on the field, I was always told not to linger in the moments.
The text from my dad has sat unanswered for days now.
Dad
If you think another passer rating like last year is going to get you where you want to be, you’ve got another thing coming. Work harder, Liam.
My dad has no fucking idea the personal work I’ve been doing in the last few years to undo all the terrible shit he made me believe growing up.
Now I try really hard to allow myself space for the emotions I feel.
I still can bounce back and turn things around quickly, but if something upsets me, I’m learning to let myself understand the emotion instead of just tucking it away like it doesn’t belong.
Because what I feel is valid, even if I was raised to think the opposite.
I rarely complained as a kid, mostly because I knew that I was more fortunate than most. We had a nice home, fancy cars, any kind of toy we wanted, and the best resources at our fingertips. That’s the shit I used to think meant you were rich.
Now, as an adult, I realize how little a fancy house and car mean.
There was no compassion in my home. No love, aside from the conditional type.
Landyn would’ve been my dad’s pride and joy on the football field if he hadn’t broken his collarbone in high school.
After that, my dad focused all his energy on me.
For a while I resented my brother for it, but it wasn’t his fault our dad was a fucking dick.
Any time I feel aggression over something, the years of frustration toward him come up too. It’s like I want something else to be able to blame an outburst on, when in reality it’s just thirty years of a shitty parent who needs the blame.
The bullshit at the game last night has been bothering me since. I just can’t fucking believe there are men out there like that. I didn’t hesitate in making sure that jerk lost his access, and I made a strong case for why he should lose his right to cameras too.
This morning, it’s just me and Birdie. Just the two of us on the couch as the sun comes up and I sip my coffee. No television, no music, no Walt. She’s purring as she lies on my abdomen, and I can feel the tickle of her whisker when she twitches.
I place my coffee on the end table to my right as I rub the back of her head by her ears. Somehow this little thing has weaseled her way right into my heart. She’s like a comfort I never saw coming, but now feel so damn thankful to have.
My phone vibrates on the cushion beside me, and I glance at the screen only to be shocked by the name that pops up. Especially at seven in the morning.
Girl of my dreams
I don’t know if this is appropriate or not, but I feel the need to thank you for last night. You didn’t have to say anything, but you did and I appreciate it.
Little does this woman know, I’d do absolutely anything for her.