Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
COOPER
Ithink Elle is trying to slowly kill me.
She looks like a Colts fan, all decked out in red and blue, but her shorts are too short and her shirt is too tight. It’s driving me crazy every time she leans over to whisper in my ear and her tit brushes against my arm.
I’ve attended many baseball games on these rooftop bleachers and she’s never worn something so revealing.
My fists have clenched so many times from watching other guys check her out.
I’m one more ogle away from hauling off and hitting someone.
But I can just see the tabloids. I’ve been there and done that before, only to almost ruin my chances of being where I am today.
Lucky for me, my dream came true, but Coach Stone would not be okay with me ending up in the press for fighting.
“I’m going to get another round. You girls want something?” I ask Elle and Bryce, eager to breathe again.
“I’m assuming they aren’t so restrictive up here about drinks?” Bryce asks hopefully.
“One day, I’m getting Ruby to serve a seltzer.” Elle puts her hands in a position like she’s mimicking swearing on a Bible, causing her T-shirt to inch up and reveal more skin my hands itch to explore.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“Lime seltzer would be great. I don’t care what brand.” Bryce shrugs.
I wait for Elle to answer, but she holds up her beer. “I’m good.”
Elle’s not really a drinker. The last time I saw her drunk was in college and that’s a story for another time.
Walking down the stairs into the bar area, I spot Siska leaving with the brunette he was sitting with. I swear, only that guy can pick up a girl before the seventh-inning stretch.
I decide to head to the bathroom before grabbing the drinks, and a redhead plows right into me, coming out of the ladies’ room.
“Excuse me,” I say.
She looks up and her eyes go wide. “You people are everywhere. What the hell?” She shakes her head and walks away, back up the stairs to the rooftop.
“Okay then.”
I walk into the bathroom, do my business, wash my hands, and leave. At the bar, the usual bartender, Zed, is working. He pours me my usual beer and slides it across the top.
“And a lime seltzer,” I order.
He nods, grabs the drink, and rests his elbows on the bar afterward. “What’s up? You look depressed.”
I stare at his tatted sleeves and rebel exterior and wonder what I might have become if I wasn’t a professional quarterback.
What if that band I’d had in high school would’ve been something more than just a garage band?
What if the art teacher had pushed me harder?
I’ve been a football player since I joined peewees at the age of six.
“Nothing. Just a boring game. The Colts are actually winning and it’s such a blowout there’s not much action.”
He nods toward the televisions above him. “Easton Bailey is, like, three for three today. He had something to prove, and he came out and proved it.”
I nod. “He sure did.”
“And our boy Cavanaugh will do the same this season.”
“I thought he proved himself enough at the end of last season.” I take a pull from my beer.
Zed shrugs. “Hard to see that when the team that traded you wins the Bowl. All people see is that they won without him.”
“I never thought about it like that, but it’s not because they got rid of their safety. It’s because Lee Burrows is a great quarterback, and he has Brady Banks as a wide receiver.”
“Don’t forget Chase Andrews. They built that team to win, and they did.” Zed knocks on the bar top. “And the Grizzlies’ year will come soon.”
“Is it every bartender’s job to be this insightful with their patrons?” I ask.
He laughs all the way down to the other end of the bar to serve a woman who is standing all by herself.
I didn’t notice her earlier, but she wouldn’t be up here if she didn’t have a ticket for the bleachers.
She’s attractive and I’m pretty sure she knows it.
She’s completely done up with her hair in curls and a full face of makeup.
I can’t see her legs, but I’d bet she’s wearing heels.
Zed hands her a drink then slides another refill my way. “From the lady,” he says, winking.
I nod to her in thanks, but she approaches me and I groan inwardly, not in the mood.
“Oh, come on, smile. You’re like the hot toy everyone wants to play with.” Zed goes to the side of the bar while the woman who bought me a drink makes eye contact with me the entire way over.
Zed is wrong. Sure, I’m a good-looking guy and being a professional quarterback garners me some attention, but after doing a razor commercial last year, I now seem to be on every woman’s radar.
They do edits of me on social media, and high-level magazines are asking me for photo shoots and articles.
But my life isn’t what they think. Could you imagine if I told them I don’t date because the one woman I want doesn’t want me?
“Hi, Cooper Rice, right?” She smiles. Her teeth are white and straight, and her lipstick is a neutral shade.
I should be attracted to her. There’s no reason for me not to be. I could be like Damon and take her down to my condo and fuck her. But I won’t because pathetic me would rather sit next to Elle as a friend than have sex with another woman.
Goddamn, what is wrong with me?
“That’s me. Thanks for the drink.” I sip the beer I was already drinking.
“I’m a huge fan,” she says, leaning closer to me.
She’s been a huge fan ever since some woman somewhere thought I was hot and announced it to the world. I’m doubtful she follows my stats or knows I’m good in the pocket or that lately I suck when I have to run the ball. Something I need to fix if I’m gonna get us to the Bowl this year.
“Thanks.”
“Welcome. Are you here with anyone?”
Bold. Sometimes I’m shocked at how bold women can be. The phone numbers slipped into our jacket pockets, sneaking into our hotel rooms during an away game, following us home. Ruby’s good at chasing them away from the place the women call “The Den.”
I’ve been excited for Cavanaugh to move in because he seems low-key, like myself.
Doesn’t want the girls who only want to brag they had us or post a picture on their social media while we’re sleeping.
Maybe he’s looking for the real deal like I am—except I found the real deal and I still have to find a way to convince Elle of it.
Speaking of Elle, she walks into the bar and stops in her tracks, noticing the woman next to me. A slow smile creeps up her lips and she gives me a thumbs-up. A fucking thumbs-up. I give her the “save me” look, but she laughs and disappears into the bathroom.
“Want to go somewhere quieter where we can talk?”
I turn my attention back to the woman. “Sorry, I’m here with some people.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me.” She takes another step closer, and I refrain from stepping back.
“They’re friends.”
“We could be more than friends.” She runs her finger down my chin. “Such a chiseled jaw, and those dimples, I could just lick them.”
I grab her hand and gently place it on the bar. “Thank you for the drink. Let me buy you one in return.” I raise my hand for Zed. “But I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”
Zed comes over.
“She’ll have another, Zed,” I say.
Her vision locks with mine. “No, she won’t, Zed.
” Her eyes turn from inviting to cold. “You know what all you athletes’ problem is?
You think you’re so great. You get a little attention on social media, women fawning over you, and you think you’re some gift to us.
You probably suck in bed anyway.” She circles around and stomps off, not going back to the rooftop but heading through the exit.
“Whoa,” Zed says. “You really pissed her off.”
Elle comes over after she gets out of the bathroom, her cute smile on display. “What happened? She was cute.”
I shrug.
“Bought him a drink and everything,” Zed offers up when he should keep his mouth shut.
“Coop, you gotta give these women a chance. Otherwise you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.” She looks at Zed. “I tell him all the time that he should be taking advantage of these years. He’s one of the hottest athletes around and I think I get more action than he does.”
My fists clench and my jaw tics at the thought of someone else’s hands on her.
“Maybe he’s holding out for one specific woman,” Zed says.
I whip my head toward him.
No way he knows. I’ve kept my feelings for Elle a secret for a helluva long time. But the look Zed is giving me tells me maybe he does.
“Come on, we can’t leave B alone for too long.” Elle walks in front of me, and I take our drinks, following her out to the rooftop and trying not to stare at her ass.
God help me. I’m pathetic.