Chapter 14 #2
Ryder barked out a laugh. “You defended her like she was your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Yet,” Jax said, clinking his glass with Ryder's.
Thankfully, the conversation shifted back to the game tomorrow. Chicago had one of the best defensive teams in our division. We knew we were the underdogs, and if anything, that gave us the motivation to prove the critics wrong.
The guys and I lingered a bit longer before people started peeling away one by one toward the elevators.
“All right, ladies, I’m out. Stay out of trouble.”
“You’re bailing already?” Ryder groaned. “C’mon, man. Fifteen minutes, then you can go to your room and do your crossword puzzles before bed.”
A round of chuckles erupted.
“Some of us like to show up on game day well-rested.” I threw some cash on the bar and stuffed my wallet into my pants pocket. “Besides, if I stay much longer, I’ll end up babysitting the rookies.”
The elevator ride to my floor was quiet, and by the time I swiped the key card and stepped into my room, I was ready for bed.
Travel, meetings, practice. It tired me out.
It was a reminder of my age. At almost thirty-one, I was only a few seasons away from retirement.
Most quarterbacks only last around five years in the league.
That’s why I worked harder than most. Football was a young man’s game, so playing forever wasn’t an option.
I stripped my clothes off, collapsed onto the bed, and started scrolling through my phone. I was trying to wind down, but my brain wasn’t getting the memo. That seemed to happen when there was nothing else grabbing my attention.
Maybe that was why my brain kept drifting straight back to her.
I should have been thinking about tomorrow. I was on the road with a game in less than twenty-four hours, but the only thing on my mind was our last conversation.
Becca didn’t have a boyfriend after all.
I meant what I said when I told her I understood. Hell, I even respected her for it. Lines were getting blurred, and pretending otherwise would have only been a bigger lie. So, I appreciated that she was being an adult about this when I wasn’t sure I could be.
I dragged a hand over my face, wishing these thoughts rattling around in my head would stop.
I glanced at my phone again, flipping it around in my hands. This was stupid. I couldn’t for the life of me recall the last time I was so strung up over a woman.
Calling her would be a bad idea, but the longer I stared at my phone, the more I wanted to hear her voice.
I shouldn’t. I knew I shouldn’t, but I hit the button anyway.
The line rang four times before she picked up. “Hello?”
There was noise in the background. It sounded like she was in a restaurant.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, sinking my head into the pillow. “You busy?”
“Hi,” she said, a little breathless, like she was in the middle of something. “I’m actually on a date. Is it urgent?”
I frowned. She was on a date. I shouldn’t care. She had a life. I shouldn’t feel anything. She didn’t owe me anything, so why did my heart twist around my chest?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
What I really wanted to say was something a lot less mature, but I knew well enough to keep my mouth shut.
“That’s okay,” she said quietly. “Can I call you later?”
What was I supposed to say? No?
I dragged a free hand through my hair and pressed the phone to my ear. I reminded myself that the more respectful thing to do would be to wish her a good night and let her go.
“Sure. Enjoy your night. We can catch up later.”
I hung up and stared at my phone, like it might explain why my chest felt so tight. She was out with some guy while I lay here alone in my hotel room, thinking about her. I didn’t get jealous, so this was ridiculous.
The logical choice would be to leave her alone. She was doing exactly what she should have been doing. I had no business inserting myself into that. I’ve been telling myself I didn’t need any complications. The timing of this was all wrong, and the circumstances were worse.
All those reasons should have stopped me from making a stupid decision, but they didn’t.
Me
I hope he took you somewhere nice.
A second later, my phone buzzed.
Becca
Why are you texting me when I’m on a date?
I smirked. I didn’t want to admit it. Not to her or to myself, but the thought of her sitting across from some random guy, sharing a glass of wine, and laughing at his jokes was driving me crazy.
Me
Just making sure you’re not bored.
Becca
Shouldn’t you be resting up for your big game tomorrow?
I shifted on the bed, staring down at the beige carpet. Tomorrow’s game flashed through my mind, but then again, so did she. She’s been in my head for weeks, and I couldn’t shake the thought of how much I hated the picture of her with someone else.
Me
I can’t sleep. So, tell me about your date.
Becca
He’s okay.
I huffed out a laugh. Her response told me everything I needed to know. The guy sounded like a real winner.
Me
Wow. Your enthusiasm is off the charts. I’m guessing sparks aren’t flying.
It took a little while longer for her to respond.
Becca
Nate, I’m being rude. Can I please call you later?
She was getting annoyed with me. Great.
Me
I’m not trying to ruin your date.
Becca
You sure about that?
I laughed because I was definitely trying. She knew me better than she should. And I both loved and hated that.
Me
I’ll let you get back to Mr. Fun. Make sure he buys you a nice meal.
Becca
I’m going to go. Please try not to blow up my phone again.
I smiled, even though she couldn’t see me.
Me
I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises.
Then I set my phone down and stared outside the window. The city of Chicago was spread out before me. People were going on with their night without a care in the world, unlike me, who was overthinking every decision that I had made in the last five minutes.
I couldn’t believe she was on a date. Jealousy wasn’t something I was proud of. It was messy. Complicated and completely inappropriate in this situation. Even I couldn’t deny that was exactly what I was feeling.
I tried to distract myself by watching mindless reels on my phone, but the longer I scrolled, the more agitated I became. I sat on the edge of the bed, balancing my forearms on my thighs.
I was so focused on being careful and respectful that I allowed someone else to swoop in. Now, I regretted it. And quite frankly, I was done being fucking noble.
I pulled up our text exchange and tapped out another message.
Me
Go to dinner with me when I get back.
The three dots jumped across the screen and then stopped. It was taking her forever to answer. I had to remind myself that I was the idiot interrupting her date.
Becca
You’re seriously asking me this while I’m out with someone else?
I winced, then smiled.
Me
Yeah, I guess I am.
I pictured her looking down at her phone, then back at the guy across from her. She was probably feeling guilty. I didn’t like that image, but I was the one who put us in this situation to begin with.
Becca
Do you want to meet to discuss the article?
Me
No.
There was a pause in her reply. It was long enough for me to second-guess sending her that text.
Me
Just consider it, please?
Becca
You should be focusing on your game this weekend.
She had a point. This season mattered, but so did this.
Me
Fine. How about this? If I score a touchdown tomorrow, will you let me take you to dinner?
Becca
There is a chance you won’t.
She clearly didn’t know me that well when I was this motivated.
Me
Not with this much riding on it, I won’t.
Becca
What happened to us setting boundaries?
Me
I didn’t realize how hard it would be.
Becca
Nate, I don’t know what to say. I’m caught off guard.
Me
Say yes, get back to your meal, and let the guy down easy. Just make sure you do that after he pays.
Becca
You are terrible. Let’s talk when you get back, okay?
That wasn’t a yes, but not a no either, so I took that as a win.
Me
Deal. Can you text me when you get home so I know you made it safely?
Becca
Fine. Can I get back to my date now?
Me
Don’t forget to text me when you get home.
I set my phone down and lay on the bed with my hands folded behind my head, staring up at the ceiling fan. I’ve done a lot of reckless shit in my life, but this might be my worst idea yet.