Chapter 18
Johnson
The Uber drops me off back at my house at almost two in the morning, and I’m spent. It’s been a long day—starting with practice, then the auction, then everything with Grace. Out of necessity, I crash pretty fast.
I wake up the next morning to two thoughts.
The first—I’m going to check in with Grace so she knows I meant everything I said last night.
JOHNSON: Good morning. Off to practice, but I’ll message you later. Hope it’s a good day after everything you did to make last night awesome.
When I’m in the shower, I get a heart emoji on my message and a reply back.
GRACE: Thank you Have a great practice!
My second thought is more complicated, and technically, a question. How the hell do I make this work? Here I am, trying to be the model citizen on all fronts and not let down any of the people who have put their faith in me, including Landon and the team.
How can I pursue this thing with Grace, under these circumstances?
I’m tightly wound as no answer comes…other than a quiet suggestion that maybe this time, maybe for Grace, I can be less than perfect for everyone else.
My mind churns as I drive to the facility this morning, but then as I park my car, I choose to park something else—a decision on how this is all going to work.
It’s football time, and I need to concentrate. I’ll get through our first regular season game and then be able to open up space in my mind for Grace and me to figure this out.
Thankfully, our first game this weekend is at home, which helps ease the transition into the regular season. No travel, no break in routine. One less thing for me to handle right now.
At practice, everyone is focused, despite the fun we had at the gala the night before.
In forty-eight hours, we’ll be suiting up to go on the field, a lot of expectations falling on us.
I’m dragging slightly from the lack of sleep, but I chug water all day to bounce back.
Between the hydration and adrenaline, I execute reasonably well.
Landon’s there, like last night never happened too. Only with him, that means he has bags under his eyes, is grumbly, and definitely is not looking like a man who just reunited with his girl. Huh.
I don’t get a chance to talk to him, though, as everyone’s segregated onto their sides of the team for the day.
While practice goes according to plan, once home, the cavern-like quiet of my house sits wrong with me and I’m anxious for activity. As soon as I grab a snack, I text Grace from a stool on my kitchen island, like I promised.
JOHNSON: Hey, congrats again on the auction. How did the day after go?
GRACE: Hi. I’m exhausted, but everyone seems happy! Susie and Mrs. Blunt sent me flowers.
Dang, maybe I should have thought of that.
GRACE: I’m typing up my final report for my non-profits class now, and then I’ll finally be done.
JOHNSON: Nice.
GRACE: How was practice?
JOHNSON: Pretty typical. The adrenaline is flying high, though. All the guys are ready to get the season started officially.
GRACE: I can imagine. I’ll be there Sunday!
I’m not surprised to hear that. Landon has complimentary tickets from the team, and Grace would be the first person on his list in Orlando to get one.
JOHNSON: Great, you can be our lucky charm
GRACE: Are you at your house right now?
I know this may be a loaded question, after my confession of how lonely I get sometimes. But I don’t want that to be a focus of tonight’s conversation.
JOHNSON: Yes, I’m about to turn on some baseball. I’m good.
My fingers stroke the keys, deciding where to bring the chat next. I’m the one who texted her after all.
Set up some time to talk to her after the game.
There’s a flash of uncertainty whether I should since I don’t know yet exactly how I’d want to move forward with us, but it doesn't last long. If anything, I wish she were here with me at this moment.
JOHNSON: I meant what I said last night. Do you want to come over Monday night?
Five seconds pass before the response comes in, and I hold my breath waiting, before the three dots turn into words.
GRACE: Yes, that works.
Okay, this is good. At least I won’t have to stew over when we’ll see each other after the game.
The next challenge is that I promised we’d figure stuff out, and I still have no idea what that looks like.
JOHNSON: Awesome, I should be home from practice by six thirty.
She puts a heart emoji on my message.
My heart twists a little when I realize I should text Landon next, make sure he’s okay.
JOHNSON: Hey, sorry we didn’t talk much today. Hope things went how you wanted with Rori. I’m here if you want to chat.
He never gets back to me, which is a little off. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about Rori yet?
At practice the next day, he seems better, though. We still don’t have any private time to speak, but he’s loud and cheery, and throws me a wink when he breaks through the line to tap me during our scrimmage.
The next night, the team stays in a local hotel, typical for NFL teams even for home games. Being together the night before the game helps minimize distractions and keep everyone focused.
I also enjoy it for some major team bonding. After a few hours of hanging with the offensive linemen in Carter’s room, I head back to my suite. With the quiet enveloping me as I lie down to fall asleep, I feel the urge to text Grace again and ask about her day.
This time, I resist.
Take it slow, Samuels. There’s so much to figure out and I don’t want to move faster than Grace.
As my eyes close, I try to stay concentrated on tomorrow, giving myself a pep talk about the game. But the memories of kissing a certain beautiful blonde are what flash in my mind as I finally drop off to sleep.
I wake up that morning to a message from a different Battle though.
LANDON: Wanna grab breakfast?
Finally. I can see what’s going on with him.
JOHNSON: Yeah, give me 20.
LANDON: Just come to my room actually. 615. I’ll order us food.
That’s a little weird. Normally we’d be downstairs in the player dining room the hotel organizes. He must want to talk privately.
A wash of nerves sweeps over me. He couldn’t have heard about my conversation with Grace, right? I mean, how would he?
This has to be about Rori?
It turns out the second guess is right.
“Hey, sorry about not responding the other day,” he says as I walk into his room a few minutes later. “It was an insane twenty-four hours with Rori, really thirty-six hours.”
“Yeah, no worries, man.”
A knock comes on the door. “That must be our food. I got rush service.” He opens up to a server bringing a rolling tray of room service, stacked with scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit.
We don’t waste any time filling our plates full after the server leaves. I sit on the couch in his room, and he grabs the armchair.
“So, what’s up? Everything okay?”
He nods through his bite of eggs. After he swallows, he finally tells me what’s been going on.
“It’s good now, I think. We talked backstage on the auction night for a while.
It was intense, you know?” His eyes get more anxious as he recalls that evening.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to see her ever again, but there she was on stage, and then”—a smile stretches across his face—“I had to deal with you baiting me.”
I put my fork down. “I’m sorry about that. I had a part to play.”
“One day I’ll get you back when you least expect it.” He chuckles. “No, but anyway, our conversation backstage was a lot to absorb at once. She apologized and seemed sincere, but I didn’t feel ready to forget everything that had happened. The breakup, it cut too deep.”
“Sure, that’s understandable.”
“So we made plans for her to come to my place the next night—her last night before leaving for the U.S. Open. I’d had time to think about what I needed to say by then, the commitment I needed to hear from her. And the conversation went really well. We’re back on track.”
“Back together?” I clarify.
“Yeah.” He sounds so happy, a big change from the other day. “And Rori is ready to go public. So we don’t have to hide anymore.”
“Fuck, that’s awesome.”
“Thanks, J. But yeah, that’s why I disappeared for a minute. I really appreciate you being there for me through all of this. Been a life saver to have you to talk to.”
Well, shit. Now the twist in my chest about Grace rises again.
I have to figure this all out.
Our conversation turns to football topics, and soon it’s time to leave the hotel in the team bus. Once we get to the stadium, I get set up in my locker, checking that everything is in place, a routine of mine. Cleats, pads, socks, helmet, #2 jersey—all there, all ready for game one of the season.
The vibe in the locker room is electric when I change into the Waves shirt and shorts I wear for our pre-game warm-ups. We don’t put the full uniform on until game time.
“LET’S FUCKING GO,” I hear from like five different guys before we take the field for the warm-up.
The stadium hasn’t filled up much yet, though there are enough fans in the stands to hear cheers as my passes connect with one of the receivers. The quarterbacks coach chats away to me and the two backups, and it’s a relaxed atmosphere that helps me settle in for the game.
“That arm looks good,” Bailey says as he returns to the locker room with me after warm-ups are done.
Once back at my locker, I put on my pads and uniform. While I’m sitting down to lace on my shoes, Landon walks up to me, and in a ritual now in its sixth season, bangs a hand on my non-throwing shoulder. A love tap from Landon, where I’m protected by my pads.
“QB1, YOU READY?” he says loudly.
“YOU KNOW IT!” I say back, my voice also several decibels louder than my usual tone.
Yeah, I’m going to need to compartmentalize like it’s my job when it comes to Landon, depending on how this goes with Grace.
A counter thought comes forward as soon as that one ends: You know, you could do exactly that—for a short period of time, anyway.
Soon we’re running onto the field, the music and lights getting the crowd on their toes, screaming in excitement before we even emerge.
Once we begin coming through the tunnel, it’s insanity. Seventy thousand people losing their minds from the shared anticipation of watching us compete.
Happily, our hyped energy translates to success during the game itself. By the time we get to halftime, we’re up 17-7, and I have 167 yards with a touchdown, a solid completion ratio, and no interceptions.
“Stay focused, men,” Coach Houston says in the locker room.
Marshall comes up to me and shows me some footage where the defender got beat or a gap opened up and we didn’t capitalize.
“So I want you to check down here first, before you go to…”
The instructions come in fast and furious, my mind assimilating all the information.
It’s a good second half, and most importantly, our solid play leads to a win. I get another 120 yards and still no interceptions, and we set up two rushing touchdowns through rapid-fire short passes to the tight end Walsh when Bailey’s covered.
We’re officially 1-0 for the season.
I’m interviewed by a couple of outlets after the game, and the locker room is a mix of guys already stripping down, coaches, and staff when I finally start undressing.
I don’t get very far into the process before Coach steps in to do the end-game pep talk. Mr. Blunt speaks too. They glance at me as he wraps up, and I know it’s my cue.
“One-Two-Three…”
“Waves,” echoes the whole locker room.
I begin taking off my pads in earnest now, but reporters are starting to fill the room. Sneaking out to the showers, I promise a few of the local journalists I’ll talk to them after I’m cleaned up and dressed.
Fast forward twenty minutes, and I’m back out in front of my locker, watching Landon hold court with reporters in another part of the room. Bailey is close by, and as his interviews wrap up, those media members slide down to me.
The questions are all football related, and nothing that surprises me.
In the past, I’ve tried to turn on the jokey type of charm like Landon and Bailey do, but I know from my media training that my answers read best when I stick to serious responses.
So it’s a boring question and answer session, but successful.
As the crowd in the locker room starts to thin out, Landon walks over to where I’m standing with a couple of the other offensive players.
“You want to walk out together? Grace is waiting in the hallway to meet me.”
Why yes, I do.
And I’m suddenly aware that now that the game is over, I’m closer to needing to navigate a decision with Grace about what’s next.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I grab my stuff and follow as he leads us out, Carter and another offensive lineman with us too.
There’s an underground part of the stadium on the same level as the locker room that has a guarded hallway, with a large open area that families can get to with their VIP badges. That’s where Grace stands next to Carter’s girlfriend, Jessica—both of them with large grins on their faces.
Of course, my eyes go straight to Grace. Her hair is in a long, loose braid, and she has a small Waves jersey on, along with a pale blue skirt. Full team colors. Nice.
“You were so good, babe,” Jessica says to Carter, giving him a hug and a kiss.
“Hey, Gracie, great way to start the season, right?” Landon asks her as they hug as well.
While she’s in his arms, her head tilts in my direction. Her eyes change their intensity as they hit mine—like we’re sharing a secret.
Which is quite appropriate. Don’t do anything to make Landon suspicious, I tell myself.
We all walk out of the building together, and I stay quiet, letting Landon and Grace walk ahead of me with the rest of the group. Still, she subtly turns her head so she can peep at me out of her right eye while it appears she’s listening to Landon talk.
Unable to resist, I wink. She seems to fight a smile and then turns her attention back to Landon.
Warmth infuses into my chest. I thought Grace may be wary of me, or at least of the conversation planned for tomorrow night. But she seems relaxed and open.
And with that awareness, a decision settles on me. An acceptance that I’m not going to give up this chance with Grace.
Almost immediately, I begin to negotiate with myself about the conditions that we could explore our interest in each other, knowing that it’s an open question whether she’ll accept them too.
Once we start reaching the cars, I say my goodbyes.
“Great game, I’m going to head home,” I say to the back of everyone’s heads. A mixture of waves and goodbyes comes back in my direction, including from Grace and Landon as they make their way to his car.
Once I arrive at my house, I throw my duffle down, grab a water, and sink into one of my couches. Resting my head back, I close my eyes for a beat.
I think I know what we’ll need to do to give us a chance, and now I have to see if she agrees.