Chapter 7 #2
The locker room erupted — the guys started talking shit, and I let them.
I met Dante’s gaze, and he gave a tiny dip of his head.
I grinned at him in return. This was a role I could play easily .
. . I’d been playing it for years. It meant I just created the very reason why we were staying away from her.
The coaches knew I wasn’t shy about getting attention from the girls.
I’d had more than one ‘quiet word’ from a coach to ensure I kept my dick wrapped up and didn’t take more than my ambition and skills into the Draft.
It was a harsh reality in our game. The gold diggers didn’t necessarily only come once the gold was in your pocket. Some started mining early, when the potential rewards were as enticing to them as they were to us. I had no time for that. I was always careful.
Well, until I kissed a stranger on the patio behind the bar in winter.
I let the catcalls and the jibes flow off me and took a seat between Dante and Noah. “That should do it,” I murmured. I rubbed my belly. “That food’s thrown me all morning,” I told Dante half seriously. “I feel . . . heavy.”
“That’s not the pasta’s fault,” he said, tipping his head back and leaning it against the wooden edge of the post that separated the players’ lockers, but he was smiling. He looked at me. “Well played,” he said, his voice low.
“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll appreciate it,” I conceded with a pang of conscience, knowing I’d made it sound like I was the reason she was there.
I’d done what I needed to, though; that’s all that mattered.
“It gives us breathing space. Coach won’t think it strange we’re staying clear of her if he knows I’ve already been there. ”
“Agreed.” He stood.
Noah was listening, as he seemed to prefer doing, rather than contributing. But he surprised me when he spoke. “Game plan changed?”
Dante looked at me, and I nodded at his unspoken question. “Yeah, if she’s going to be here for the month . . .”
Dante looked over to the freshman lockers where Mike and his friends were still giggling like idiots. “It’s risky.” He shook his head. “Dust’s right, we don’t want the heat from this.”
I heard a booming laugh, and all three of us looked over. Mike was doing some weird dance step, and I decided I didn’t even want to know. “She will eat him alive,” I told them with a shake of my head. “Were any of you buying her innocent act?”
“Nah, she’s good, though.” Noah grinned, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He turned his head to look at me. “Hey, why did Moore body-check me coming off the field and tell me to stay to my side?”
Dante snorted. “We told Sutherland you’d be a good tight end.”
Noah looked confused. “Why?”
“Deflection,” I supplied. “I feel like we’re going to have a very long month.” I dragged my hand over my face, already feeling exhausted, and this was only this morning’s practice.
Dante stood, his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let’s shower, we can worry about it all later.”
“How’s your shoulder?” I asked him to pull my shirt off.
He looked over his shoulder to see who was near us, but our teammates had migrated either to their own showers or to the center of the locker room.
“Fucking sore,” he admitted. Noah moved forward, the three of us forming a tighter circle.
“Don’t worry, I know not to call anyone,” he added, and was it just me, or was there a hint of bitterness there?
“I might see if that PT, Diana, will give me another injection.”
“You were told to stay away,” I reminded him, dropping my voice lower. “I’m all for extra PT sessions for you, but shouldn’t you stick to Doug like you were told?”
“Yeah, probably. But spring training is in nine days. The media are descending on us soon. You think they don’t want to see us out there?”
He was right. Spring training was about trying new routes, adding to the playbook, and testing second-team players and freshmen to earn their spots on the first team.
Dante was secure; he didn’t need to worry about his starting position next season.
The rest of us — those who helped win the championship, like me, Moore, Noah, and a few others whose plays made a difference — had a bit more security too, but nothing in football is ever guaranteed.
“Yeah, I know,” I told them, bending down to take my cleats off. “We can be their show ponies, but I also want to impress.” I saw Noah nod. “This one feels like it’s more than spring training, you know?”
“It’s going to be a long five weeks,” Dante agreed.
“Hey, Sav told me to let you know if you need any extra help with classes, she’s available.
” He stood and grabbed his shit for the shower.
He looked casually over the locker room.
“I think we need to assume that they’re watching everything.
She wants us to keep the tutoring to her and only her. ”
“A good idea,” Noah said thoughtfully. “She doesn’t mind?”
Dante scoffed. “Nah, she wouldn’t offer if she did.”
“Tell her thanks. It’ll save Tate a drive,” he added with a smile.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Tell her thanks.”
Dante rolled his eyes at me. “Like you need the help.”
“Hey, the offer’s appreciated.” I checked to make sure I had everything needed for the showers. “Oh, and speaking of helping siblings.” I saw Noah’s look. “What, you think I don’t know Tate’s your little brother? Please. I listen.” He looked guilty. Good — he should. “You two are with me later.”
“Why?” Dante asked as we walked to the showers.
“Naya’s debate team is here; they’re having the first round tonight, and I have to go.”
“Yeah. You do,” Dante said without missing a beat.
“And as my best friend and as my bros-before-hos guys,” I told them both, “you do too.”
“Did you call your sister a ho?” Noah asked doubtfully, turning his shower on.
“No. Shut up.” I dumped my stuff on the side. “You’re both coming, end of.”
Noah opened his mouth, but Dante groaned. “There’s no point arguing with him,” he told him. “Just agree. Eat his peanut butter cups later in revenge.”
Noah cursed at Dante for outing him, but I was already too busy yelling at him.
Our shit-talking and passing jabs at each other carried on all the way back into the locker room.
The steam of the shower may have eased my muscles, but it was a sense of normality that eased the tension I’d been carrying for a few weeks.
“You three! Quiet down!” Coach Sutherland yelled as he passed, like he would any other day. “Worse than my goddamn kids!”
We fell silent, and then Dante started sniggering, and we joined in. The head coach glared at us, but it was a normal glare, like it was any other day in the locker room. He headed to his office, muttering about running extra suicides to shut us up.
The laughter carried on as we left the facility to head to class.