Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Mia
Am I pouting?
Yes.
Do I deserve to pout after seeing half a dozen houses that were all wrong?
Absolutely.
Rufus is doing a great job searching for the perfect home for our eclectic group, but each failed attempt seems to stress him almost as much as me.
The pressure from the guys to make a decision so that our house hunt doesn't drag throughout the season doesn't help.
I understand they don't want to risk leaving this decision up in the air by the time playoffs come around, but the perfect house cannot be rushed.
Even the houses that seem to be the most perfect in theory seem to strike me the wrong way. There's something off about all of them that I can't always put my finger on.
I'm confident that I'll know the perfect house–and nest–when we see it.
"Do you want something else?" Zak asks, interrupting my silent brooding.
Surprised, I look up at him from across the table, then follow his gaze to where I'm picking restlessly at the pepperonis on my slice of pizza. I drop the pepperoni pinched between my fingers on my plate and drop both of my hands to my lap.
"No, thank you."
Leave it to Daddy Zak to notice I'm playing with my food more than eating it. Unfortunately, I have a problem that a different choice in pizza toppings won't fix.
To my right, Spencer leans back in his chair and studies me carefully. "Do you want to get ice cream after dinner?"
I shake my head.
He's already been kind enough to overlook the fact that pizza for dinner is definitely not within the terms of the diet he should be following during the season.
The team's dietitian would probably lock me back in that storage closet in the stadium if she knew what kind of nonsense Spencer and Zak have secretly been eating since meeting me.
We should probably wait to have any more ice cream until at least after their upcoming home game.
They have one more regular practice before game day, and we have one more house tour scheduled for this week. Tomorrow is bound to be a rough day. Especially when they find out more details about the house I agreed to go see...
A house that may or may not have been the site of a notorious murder scene that has inspired at least six documentaries and counting.
Freddie finishes scarfing the last slice of the large meat lover's pizza he refused to share with anyone else. He straightens in his seat, and despite my melancholy mood, I fight the urge to laugh at the smear of pizza sauce by the corner of his mouth.
"You have a little something." I gesture to my own mouth for him.
He leans toward me and stage-whispers. "Can you kiss it off of me?"
When he bats his eyelashes dramatically at me, he's pretty hard to resist. I'm glad he's around to lighten the mood. I lean over to meet him halfway and oblige him, kissing the corner of his mouth and then swiping my tongue quickly over the stray sauce to clean him up.
His eyes flicker shut, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
We're playing with fire.
"I wish I could take you home right this second," Freddie mutters as he opens his eyes. Then his eyes widen as he realizes what he just said.
The whole reason we're out to dinner right now is that we have no real home to go back to.
I refuse to spend time at their place for fear of being permanently afflicted with the house's bad energy.
And there's only so much time we can all spend cooped up in my small apartment getting to know each other.
We could all use a little space of our own.
While I don't want to be far apart from my mates, a little absence might help the heart grow fonder.
Freddie's not exactly stellar at quiet time. We can have a lot of fun together, but he's probably never going to be my top pick for a movie buddy.
Desperate to change the subject, I look around the table and decide now is as good a time as any to practice putting my newfound football knowledge to good use.
I want to make sure I'm confident with all the advanced fundamentals that Freddie taught me by the time I meet Spencer and Zak's teammates in a few days.
"I've been thinking a lot about your next football game," I muse aloud, setting myself up for the kill.
"Yeah?" Spencer seems surprised to hear that, quirking an eyebrow. "Makes sense. The game is coming up fast. Obviously, we can get you into the game if you want. As a fan this time, instead of a stand-in camera person." He laughs lightly.
"That would be great. Watching football is so fun, and the team is great this year. You guys just have to remember to watch your flanks, and I think you'll be unstoppable."
Spencer pauses mid-sip of water.
Zak studies me with a blank expression.
I forge ahead to prove the depth of my knowledge. "If your opposition senses weakness, they'll obviously try to break morale and overtake your strongest horse."
Freddie gives me two thumbs up in encouragement.
I point at Spencer. "And as captain, you need to inspire the troops. Make sure they keep their horses saddled and take turns on night watch. Never let the enemy cross into their home base."
There's a long, awful silence.
Freddie seems to be the only one smiling proudly at my display of knowledge.
Finally, Spencer sets his water glass down with exaggerated care. "Mia," he says slowly, "what exactly do you think happens during a football game?"
I falter. "There's... strategy? And you score points by overtaking enemy lines."
"That's generally true." Zak's mouth twitches with good humor. "But you know there are no horses on a football field, right?"
“Of course.” I’m not a complete idiot. “I know the horses are figurative, not literal.” Otherwise, I would have seen them on the field while I was filming.
"And we don't usually utilize so many terms of war," Spencer adds with an uneasy smile.
I whip my head toward Freddie so fast that I nearly pull a neck muscle. He's sinking down in his chair, his eyes downcast toward the floor as if he's considering hiding under the table. His reaction is an effective confession.
"Freddie," I say in a dangerously sweet voice and wait for him to look up at me. "Why don't these advanced fundamentals ring a bell for the two professional football players at the table? Did you teach me war references in place of football ones?"
If this is a prank, it's not one I understand. I'm mortified as Spencer and Zak both struggle to hold back laughter.
Freddie winces. "Okay. In my defense, I thought there would be more overlap."
"Between football and medieval combat?" Spencer folds his arms across his chest.
"There's a lot of charging." Freddie lifts one shoulder helplessly. "And teamwork. And emotional stakes."
I narrow my eyes. "You told me a quarterback's entire job is to guard the crown jewels of the kingdom."
"I'm pretty sure that one still sounds accurate."
Zak loses his battle to keep his composure and laughs into his napkin.
"Do you know... anything about football?" I can't believe I even have to ask the question. I hold my breath while I wait for his answer.
Freddie sighs dramatically. "Not really. I know enough to hype up the crowd when our fans are cheering and to sense when Spencer is going to be in a bad mood on the way home. I guess that probably happens when he fails to guard the crown jewels."
I'm flabbergasted.
"Why did you agree to tutor me?"
His face softens with sincerity. "Because you looked so hopeful when you asked me for help, and I couldn't bear to disappoint you by saying no."
The little bit of frustration I feel crumbles instantly.
"That's sweet of you," I say, my lips turning up in a small smile. I reach out to take his hand.
Spencer groans. "You really shouldn't reward this kind of behavior."
Too late. I'm already devolving into my own laughter. And judging by the way Zak and Spencer both give in a moment later, laughing openly along with me, they know as well as I do that this kind of misunderstanding is par for the course with Freddie.
A team mascot who knows absolutely nothing about football. Freddie is going to spend our whole lives keeping me guessing, that's for sure.
For the next few minutes, I amuse the alphas by sharing more of the ridiculous "football" knowledge that Freddie bestowed upon me. Each fact seems less believable than the last until I realize I'm really damn gullible for not realizing the truth sooner.
Eventually, Spencer looks at Freddie through the slits of his narrowed eyes, a smile still on his lips as he shakes his head slowly.
"Admittedly, I noticed your football knowledge has been somewhat lacking over the years, but I had no idea it was this bad.
Are you sure you even know what the football actually looks like? "
He looks truly pained by the realization that Freddie is completely clueless about his beloved sport.
Freddie scoffs and waves off Spencer's concern. "I know all of the important things."
"Can you give us one example?" Zak asks, tilting his head to the side.
"Well," he thinks for a moment before lighting up, "I know the mascots aren't allowed to hug the game officials, even if the game has already ended."
"You... What?" Spencer looks completely dumbfounded.
Freddie nods, very serious. "I was so embarrassed when an umpire explained to me that I was never, ever allowed to hug him again."
"Umpire?" Zak echoes in an unusually high pitch.
"Umpires are for baseball," I explain to Freddie, pleased that at least I know that one. Turns out, maybe I should be the one giving Freddie the sports lessons. I really should have thought harder about my options before going to the team's mascot for help.
Why on earth didn't I just call my brother? He knows approximately a gazillion football things.
Spencer shakes his head. "I think we need to revisit this topic soon, and discuss what we need to do to get you up to speed a little more on the game. Seeing as how you're employed by the team."
He's truly perplexed by Freddie's lack of knowledge, which is kind of hilarious.