30
Monday, July 21st
Blake
“Arkansas!” Coach Gordan yells from the sidelines as first string lines up against second string on our practice field.
We’re already two hours into this morning’s training session, and my T-shirt is soaked under my pads. It’s a balmy ninety degrees in New York, and the sweat dripping down my brow beneath my helmet proves it.
“Set! White 80!” I call toward Nick Fisher, my center. “White 80!” I repeat, giving Nick the final confirmation.
He snaps the ball, but it just might be one of the shittiest snaps he’s ever given me.
It takes me a hot second to get a good grip on the ball in my hands, and I can hear the helmets and pads of my O-line crashing against the defense.
I drop back three steps, fake a handoff to Drake Martin, the Dragons’ top running back, and it pulls enough of the defense’s eyes that I have the time I need to look downfield.
One of my receivers is fighting for his life against Ryan Clark, a freshman walk-on from Texas who I have a feeling will end up gaining a starting spot by midyear. And my other receiver, Danny Ash, is dragging some serious ass. Fuck me.
My O-line is losing steam, and when I spot a big, burly defensive end heading my way, I know I’m in for a world of hurt. Quickly, I look at my options again, and when I see that Danny’s managed to run a route that’s given him some space from his defender, I send a rocket his way.
Though, what I don’t account for is how close the defensive end is to me, and with one lift of his arm, he tips the ball and sends it ricocheting toward the sidelines.
Immediately, a hard whistle is blown.
“What the fuck was that, Boden?” Coach Gordan shouts at the top of his lungs. “Please fucking tell me you know Arkansas stands for a simple fucking play-action pass and not a goddamn interception!”
“Sorry, Coach,” I apologize, fully prepared to take whatever ass-reaming Coach Gordan deems I deserve. Sure, there was a lot more bad shit that went down with that play than my nearly intercepted pass, but I’ll never be that guy who tries to throw his teammates under the bus to save himself.
Any quarterback who lets himself be that guy isn’t a fucking quarterback at all. A QB’s job is to be the leader of the team, and when mistakes are made, he holds himself accountable.
Coach sighs, glaring at me from the sidelines, but when one of the defensive coaches calls for his attention, he waves an annoyed hand in the air, blows his whistles, and says, “Take fifteen!”
“Sorry about that snap, man,” Nick says as we jog toward off the practice field.
“Don’t sweat it, Nick.” I give him a hearty pat on the shoulder.
Everyone stops at the cooler, guzzling water and bottles of Gatorade as quick as they can.
“Worst part about football is training in the dead of fucking summer,” Drake comments, taking off his helmet to squirt water on his face.
“Dude,” Bear Donahue says through a sigh. He’s one of the big guys on our O-line, a man I’m thankful for one hundred percent of the time. Well, unless he lets my ass get sacked.
“Yo, Clark,” I say, grabbing the attention of the freshman. He looks up from his spot on one of the benches, an empty Gatorade bottle in his hands. I don’t hesitate to walk over to him, briefly giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I see you out there, man. Keep it up.”
He smiles at me, both gratefulness and surprise making his eyes squint. “Thanks, Boden.”
I give him one final pat to the shoulder and head over to my duffel that’s sitting in the shade behind the benches. The rest of the team continues to bitch and moan about the heat—can’t say I blame them—but as I guzzle down an entire bottle of water, I’m also pulling my cell phone out of the front pocket of my bag.
I frown. I only have a few texts from Ace and Finn, and all hope of hearing from the one person I really want to hear from goes out the window.
I swipe up to my ongoing text chat with Lexi and smile like a fool when I briefly read through some of our most recent texts.
Me: Lexi Lou Winslow, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?
Lexi: No.
Me: Would you possibly enjoy coming over to my place tonight so I can lick your pussy?
Lexi: Oh my God, Blake.
Me: So, yes?
Lexi: I didn’t say yes.
Me: But you said, “Oh my God, Blake.” Which seemed like a “Hell yes, I’m super excited to have you lick my pussy tonight” kind of oh my God.
Lexi: Quite the postulation you made there.
Me: And was it correct?
Lexi: I’ll be done at the lab tonight around 8:.
Me: See you then, babe.
That was last night. And it certainly did not disappoint. Neither did the night before that nor the night before that nor the night before that.
Any free time I have, especially at night, I spend with Lexi. Sometimes I stay at her place, sometimes she stays at my place, but every morning for the past seven days has involved me waking up with her in my arms.
She’s a tough—insanely intelligent—nut to crack, but I’m bound and determined to show her why we’ll be so damn good together.
Which is why, as much as I’ve wanted to, I haven’t spammed her with any messages this morning.
She doesn’t need a man riding her ass. She needs a man who is willing to stand on her sidelines, cheering her on and supporting her in the ways that she needs.
And fuck, do I want to be that man for her.
Fingers to the keys, I type out a message.
Me: I’m done with training at noon. I’m going to drop off lunch to you at the lab. Your food should be there around 12:.
Lexi: And how would you even know what I want?
Me: Burger with ketchup only. Side of fries, but well-done. Coke, but no ice.
Lexi: LOL. Are you keeping spreadsheets of my favorite foods?
Me: I don’t need spreadsheets, Lex. You’re my favorite subject.
Lexi: I can’t decide if that line is cheesy or cute.
Me: Pretty sure it’s a healthy combo of both.
“Back on the field!” Coach Gordan shouts, blowing his whistle right after his words. I hustle to send Lex one final text before I get my ass reamed.
Me: Gotta get back to practice. See you at 12: p.m., babe. PS: Will you be my girlfriend?
Her response is instant.
Lex: Sounds great. No.
Me: But will you sleep over at my place tonight?
Lex: Yes.
Another night with Lex in my arms means another chance to convince her to give in. One of these nights, she’s going to realize we’re made for each other.