25. Cassandra
I saton Diego’s couch, a slice of pizza in one hand, a beer in the other, and the controller balanced on my knee. Diego sat down on the center cushion, his thigh pressing my leg and his arm draped over the back of the couch.
“You sure you don’t want this?” I asked, holding out the goopy mess of a slice.
Despite the tingly feeling from his body touching mine and an entire week of intense sexual frustration as Diego ramped up his campaign to make me his girlfriend via intense flirtation, I’d held firm. No fucking. No dating. No kissing.
No kissing until tomorrow, anyway.
He licked his lips and shook his head. “Yes, desperately, but also no.”
“Watching your girlish figure?”
He swiped the controller from my knee, bringing the TV back to life. “I don’t want to throw up greasy pizza on national television. Thank you very much.”
“Well, luckily, I’m completely fine with throwing up greasy pizza on national television. Or the big screen, anyway. No one’s mentioned whether I’m getting airtime on cable.”
While I hadn’t gone to Diego’s last game, I couldn’t avoid attending a Sunday home game. And I didn’t want to. Sure, I couldn’t trust myself to kiss Diego in the privacy of his home, but the post-game kiss was practically a contractual obligation. One I wished I wasn’t quite so enthusiastic to fulfill.
“No, and I talked to the stadium to make sure they lay off the reaction shots.” His brown eyes stayed glued to the screen, navigating a maze on screen.
“Good plan,” I muttered, ripping apart the crust and placing it on a plate on the coffee table. “Start shifting the focus off us as a couple and I can just disappear come Thanksgiving.”
Diego cocked his head, eyes sweeping from the TV to me. “Wait, what?”
“When I go back home for the holidays.” I swallowed a lump in my throat.
“But I thought the apartment lease went through the end of the year.” He set down the remote as the screen turned red.
“It does, but Becca’s grabbing the last of her furniture during New England’s bye week, right before Thanksgiving. I planned to fly back with her.”
“But the contract goes through December.”
“No. It’s through mid-November. James said the holidays would be a good time to just let everyone forget…” My throat constricted.
Diego locked his eyes on mine. “But you’re coming back, right? To Norwalk?”
I shrugged, unsure how to maneuver this conversation onto safe ground. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“It’s barely a month away.”
“Right,” I agreed with a forced smile. “Forever. Practically a lifetime. So, don’t worry your cute little quarterback brain about it another minute.”
“You know, quarterbacks are some of the most intelligent people on the field, right?” he asked with an indulgent smile.
“Yeah, the guys who can’t defend themselves from a tackle are the smartest,” I scoffed. “The smartest person on the field is the kicker because the rules say they’re practically untouchable. You rely on your O-line holding the pocket.”
Diego grinned. “Wow, was that Cassandra Barton talking about football like she understood the sport? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Becca is pissed I never bothered to learn for her. Then again, she never offered free tickets and booze if I took an interest in football. My interests are very easily bought.”
His arm rested against my thigh, and I resisted the urge to drop my head against his shoulder, refusing to allow my mind to wander back to the hotel room in Las Vegas. We’d moved on from Final Fantasy and onto Zelda. He completed the missions, handing over the controller so I could explore towns. During the game, I gave into the pull and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Hey, what are you doing week nine?” he asked, fingertips brushing mine as I reached a cave and handed him the controller.
“Is there a date associated with week nine, or do I solely exist in the world on pro football weeks now?”
“Two weeks from today.” He set the controller on his lap, Link bobbing on the screen at the entrance of the cave. “It’s bye week, so sort of a mid-season vacation.”
“Sounds fun,” I said, lifting my eyes to his face.
He rubbed the back of his neck, skin staining red. “Usually I go somewhere fun, but my mom’s husband called and…”
“And you want me to come up with a good excuse not to go?”
He laughed. “No. I want you to come with me.”
His spine stiffened, my pleasant headrest suddenly firm and uncomfortable. Had Diego Salazar just invited me home to meet his mom?
He raked a hand through his inky black hair. “I know it’s not exciting or glamorous. I usually stay at her house, but I can get a hotel, if you don’t want to?—”
I squeezed his arm, stopping his ramble. “It sounds like fun.”
“Fun?”
“Yeah. Who doesn’t want to vacation in beautiful Mississippi?”
“Um…anyone in their right mind? She doesn’t even live near the casinos.”
“Casinos are overrated. I’m terrible at blackjack. Ask Lena.”
“You really want to go?”
“I can’t wait,” I said earnestly. “Give me the dates, and I’ll clear my schedule. One question though.”
“Anything.”
My chest tightened. “Does your mom know…?”
I didn’t mind lying to the public about dating Diego, but the idea of lying to his mom made me nauseous.
“About us not really dating? Yeah. I told her at the beginning of the season. She saw the week one game. I think she just wants to meet you and knew we were hanging out a lot.” He laughed. “Paul even tried to buy us plane tickets.”
“That’s sweet.”
“What’s sweet is that I turned him down and got us first-class tickets instead. Going to Mississippi is bad enough, but going in coach?”
“You know I never flew first class before you, right? I picked whatever was the cheapest. And you’re offering me a vacation to a place I’ve never been before. We could drive to Mississippi in the back of a pickup and I’d be thrilled.”
“So, that’s a yes?” I nodded and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close so his warmth invaded my body. “You’re going to regret it because my mom lives in the middle of nowhere and it’s really boring, but I’m glad you’re coming.”
How could I say no?
* * *
The stands shook as the Breakers rolled over their opponents, extending a four-touchdown lead to a five-touchdown lead with minutes left on the clock.
The Jumbotron cameras stayed out of my face, and I waffled between relieved and disappointed. Realistically, the attention needed to shift away from our relationship. Over the course of six weeks, I’d gone from an occasional face on the Jumbotron to a target for journalists and photographers interested in the human interest aspect of our relationship.
After the games, the camera lens shifted in my direction, waiting for Diego to stop by the stands. More and more every week. Not an ideal situation when the end date of our contract loomed in the not-so-distant future.
“You okay?” Lena asked with a frown. Her soft brown eyes studied my face, a faint frown on her forehead.
“She needs a drink,” Cici insisted, picking up the empty aluminum cans from the floor.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, keeping my eyes glued on the game. “Just watching football.”
“Or distracted about meeting Diego’s mom during bye week?” Cici balanced the cans in one hand and gave me a soft punch with the other. “You’re locking him down, aren’t you? I don’t think any of his girlfriends have met his mom before.”
“How’d you find that out?” I asked, more shocked than upset.
I turned to Lena.
She shrugged. “Not me. Noa’s taking me to Iceland. I haven’t even asked about anyone else’s plans.”
“Oh, it’s big news on the Breakers’ discussion boards. Not sure who broke it, probably Breaking the Breakers. She gets all the juicy gossip.”
“Don’t listen to Cici or those sites. Cici is nosey as all hell, and those gossip sites are absolute garbage.” Lena patted my arm.
“But are they right?” Cici pulled up an eyebrow and watched me expectantly.
My cheeks burned. “Yeah. He asked me if I wanted to go to Mississippi and meet his parents. It’s no big deal. He wanted some company, and it’s not like I had anything better to do.”
Cici swooned. “God, don’t I wish I had the flexibility to have handsome football players fly me around the country.”
“Apparently there are some benefits to being a drifter,” I joked.
A wave of cheers sounded around us, and on the field, a mass of players jumped on a loose ball. The referees pulled the players off the pile until only number 90 was on the ground. Rob Grant stood up with the ball cocooned in his arms before holding it up triumphantly.
“Well, that’s game. At least we don’t need to buy another round.” Cici shrugged. “So, are you heading back to the tailgate?”
“Yeah,” I said absently as Diego stood up from the sidelines and put his helmet back on. “I’ll meet you there. I’ve got to…”
“To make out with your boyfriend for the press?” Cici laughed. “Rub it in our face. Although, I guess if Noa wanted to, he could waltz over to the sideline for a peck, too.”
Lena’s cheeks bloomed red. “He’d never do that to me. Not that there’s anything wrong with what you and Diego?—”
“She’s such a prude,” Cici cut in. She ribbed me with her elbow. “Well, enjoy it, hot lips. I’ll grab you a drink. Don’t take too long.”
Lena and Cici meandered out of the stands with the steady stream of fans hoping to escape the stadium before traffic was gridlocked. I eased closer to the tunnel into the locker room, slowing as I reached the edge of the Breakers’ faithful crowding the tunnel entrance in hopes of an autograph or picture.
“Hey, make room for Diego’s girlfriend!” a guy holding a foam hand called. A cadre of reporters on the field swiveled in my direction as I thanked the man and slipped into a newly formed opening.
“Hey, Cassie!” Trent yelled boisterously as he jogged into the tunnel, Frankie at his side. “You come down to see me?”
Frank shook his head. “He’s trying to get shut out of another game. Don’t encourage him, Cassie.”
“Afraid not, Trent.” I frowned theatrically. “It’s nice running into you, though.”
He stopped in front of me with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what are you doing bye week?”
“I’m busy.”
The grin stayed. “Well, maybe you cancel those plans and come out partying with Frankie and me.”
“I have plans with Diego, but thanks.”
He clutched his chest. “Ouch. Well, think about my offer and get back to me. You know I’m more fun than that jerk.”
I stifled a giggle as Trent posed for a picture before disappearing into the tunnel.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Diego’s rich, low voice carried over the excited conversation around us.
My stomach flipped, and a light giddiness invaded my body. “Hey. Good game.”
He raked a hand through his hair, damp with perspiration. I reached out to brush a bit of grass off his chin, letting my fingertips linger just a second longer than necessary. “I had my good luck charm in the stadium. I couldn’t lose.”
“You’ve won plenty of games without me in the stands. And you’ll win a bunch more.”
“Not if I have anything to do about it.” He gripped the handrail, pulling himself up to my level. Wrapping a hand around the back of my head, he pulled me in for a searingly passionate kiss that simultaneously took my breath away and ended way too soon. “You heading back to the tailgate?”
I blinked, head dizzy and chest aflutter. “Unless you want me to wait outside the locker room.”
“Nah,” he grinned as he lowered himself down to the ground. “I’ll meet you for a drink. Have fun.”
He shot me an exaggerated wink before jogging off, leaving me breathless and in way over my head.