Chapter Ten #2
I inhale, force my legs to move. I should be getting ready for the game with my teammates and resentment sits squarely in my gut. If I’d have known that my first-round draft pick was all down to a crush, I’d have gone with another team. Except now I’ve signed a contract.
‘Jake,’ Sam Conway says as I enter, and takes off her glasses. ‘Thanks for taking the time to come up here. Have a seat.’
‘Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?’
She produces a smile that I think is meant to put me at ease. I guess ticket sales are what paid for those straight, white teeth. I’ve only met this woman a few times, but I’ve heard the rumours. If she’s nice to you it’s because she wants something.
‘Good luck out there today. We’re so pleased to have you here. I just wanted to ask if you’d thought any more about our conversation at my son’s wedding.’
A lump balloons in my throat and I swallow it down. ‘You mean about Lemon?’
‘It’s just that you gave me the impression that you were gonna talk to her.’
I wanna tell her that I’ve met a girl already, a girl who I intend to make my girlfriend, except that, right now, when out the back of her office I can see the lines of people entering the stadium, I know I can’t argue with her.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.’
‘So, you will still ask her.’
That’s a statement, not a question. ‘If that’s what you want me to do, ma’am.’
‘Oh no, please, keep me out of it,’ Sam Conway says with a wave of her hand. ‘But I really would appreciate it.’
‘I better go get ready for the game,’ I tell her, getting back to my feet.
‘Of course. Give ’em hell out there, champ. Thank you, Jake.’
I give her a nod and I’m out the door before I know it. I take a left and nearly crash into Lemon herself.
‘Oh!’ she exclaims, and almost drops the folders held in her arms.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ I say, before it hits me that this was the set-up all along. Apparently, this is my cue.
‘It’s Lemon, right?’ I say.
She looks thrilled. Like, beside herself. Her blonde hair is scraped back into a high ponytail, held in place by a giant polka dot bow, her dark roots just visible underneath. ‘You remembered me, Jake Walsh.’ She grins at me, which reminds me simultaneously that she knows exactly who I am.
I’m a dead man if I don’t do this. ‘Sure, why wouldn’t I remember?’
‘Oh, aren’t you sweet,’ she says, elongating the sound of the double ‘e’ before she descends into giggling laughter.
‘Say, can I take your phone number?’ I ask as I rub the back of my neck and it feels like I’m reading from a script, like this is the way I get to keep my place on the Mutineers starting line-up.
She seems to feign shock, like for sure she didn’t see that one coming. Yeah, right.
‘Why, of course you can!’ she squeals and takes out her phone. ‘Why don’t you give me yours and I’ll call you right now.’
I watch her enter my name into her contacts. She holds out her handset. I catch the eager look in her eye as I type in my number. Once I’ve saved it, she calls me, and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.
‘Maybe we could go for a drink sometime?’ I say, and I feel like a robot going through the motions.
She stands too close to me and grins so hard that I can see both her upper and lower teeth. ‘I would love that,’ she says.
‘So, I’ll… uh, message you?’
‘I’ll await your message.’
She walks backward away from me and flirtatiously waggles her fingers in farewell. Her nails are peach-colored, and it matches her shade of lipstick.
‘Bye, Jake,’ she hums and makes a phone shape with her fingers. ‘Call me. And good luck out there.’
Back downstairs in the locker room, Dalton’s already giving his pep talk as I walk in.
Coach makes eyes at me to hurry the fuck up, and within a few minutes, I’ve thrown on my compression shirt, padded shirt, number fourteen jersey, pants and white stockings.
I tie my cleats then grab my helmet and gloves and join in the huddle.
‘Doin’ alright?’ Dalton asks me after as he wipes eye black on my cheeks with his thumbs. ‘You all set?’
‘All set, Cap,’ I say, because right now, I need to focus on the game.
Dalton lowers his voice. ‘Was it what we thought?’
‘Yup,’ I say miserably.
‘We’d fight your corner if you’d turned her down, you know,’ Dalton says. ‘Not the first time Lemon’s been known to pull a stunt like this on her grandfather’s watch. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Two years ago, she was down bad for Will over there. Told everyone who would listen.’ He dips his head toward our bearded, towering left guard, Will Dent.
Dent raises his head, like he knows we’re talking about him.
‘Only difference is, Will got engaged to his now-wife, so Lemon had to back off. Want my advice? Get yourself a girl and make it obvious you’re into her.
Send a message but try to let Lemon down gently.
The Conways are not the kind of people you wanna piss off before the season’s even started. ’
A shout goes up. Coach Holland. We’re hitting the field, our game versus the Raiders about to begin. This is it. Our final pre-season game. Dalton gives me a single nod and readies himself to lead us to the tunnel.
I can hear wild cheering over the thud of the music when my name is announced as part of the Mutineers’ starting line-up, the excitement in the crowd. I picture my parents and River out there.
I wish I could say my focus had switched solely to football, but the moment I see her, I can’t not look. The sight of her almost stops me in my tracks.
Serenity’s right on the fifty-yard line. Her body writhes in effortlessly choreographed moves, along with her fellow cheerleaders. As she shakes her navy and white pom-poms, her hair cascades down her back.
And all I can think to myself is, one day I’m gonna ask her to dance for me like that. Because right now, I don’t want her dancing for anybody else.
Just me.
And yet, watching her from the corner of my eye, she doesn’t look my way. Not once.
Getting her to like me is gonna be harder than I thought.