CHAPTER 11 #2
“Oh, come on man,” Tristan said, trying to snatch it back, but Phillip was too quick and Tristan didn’t want to spill his hot-as-fuck coffee on himself. And then in a flash, his other donut was snatched by Chris, who promptly stuffed the whole thing into his mouth in one bite.
“Gotta be quicker than that,” Chris said through his full mouth.
“I fucking can’t stand both of you,” Tristan said with a chuckle. “Fine by me. I’ll stay super lean and you guys can keep packing on your dad bods.”
“Trist you’ve had a dad bod since third garde,” Phillip retorted.
“The ladies love a big bear, if you know what I mean.”
“Hell yeah,” Chris laughed, giving Tristan a high five.
“Alright quiet down!” Coach Rice’s voice boomed over the chatter in the room.
He stood at the podium, in front of a very talented and determined group of men.
Anyone in their right minds would be intimidated standing up there, but Coach Rice was a natural and commanded the room in a way that only came once in a lifetime. Tristan respected the hell out of him.
“Before we jump into practice and some play review, I just want to let you all know that we will have a guest with us for the next few months. Hopefully to February, if we work hard enough to get that far. We have a reporter here from the New York Times, she’s fantastic, she’ll be following along with us during our season with a huge expose that should come out at the end of the year.
You guys will probably be seeing a lot of her, she’ll likely interview many of you one on one or ask you all tons of questions, so you better be kind to her or there will be consequences.
Her name is Tessa, I know her dad from back in the day, and I will only say this one more time – be nice, be kind, be welcoming, or you’ll be sorry. ”
Tristan sat motionless. A journalist named Tessa? What were the chances it was his Tessa?
Except she wasn’t his Tessa anymore. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in a decade.
The way that she had so abruptly left his life left him borderline traumatized for at least a year.
He found it nearly impossible to dig himself out of the hole of depression that engulfed him when she left, and the only thing that saved him was dedicating every living and breathing second to football.
Once he was finally back on the team, after paying for his tuition with a few odd jobs, he threw all of his anger from what happened when she left into the game.
And he became the fucking best. Drafted easily to the Titans when just a few years prior the scouts were saying he didn’t have what it takes.
And with the motivation and unresolved emotions that Tessa leaving had fueled in him, he became a fucking beast. So much so that for the remaining two years of his college career he didn’t date, party, or make any new friends.
All he thought about was football, and Tessa.
But he never once reached out to her. Made a great deal of effort to avoid looking for her or contacting any of her friends or family.
You see, they didn’t simply just break up.
She had explicitly told him not to ever contact her, that she was moving far away from him, changing her number, and changing her whole life to stay away from him.
Sure, her letter had said she was doing it for him and for his football career, but that had only made him angrier.
Because he would have sacrificed it for her.
He was so deeply and obsessively in love with her that she was what he wanted at the end of the day, and she didn’t even give him a choice.
So no, Tristan never reached out. He never tried to find her.
Never tried to stalk her on social media.
He never talked to Abigail or Amber again even though they were on the same campus and never reached out to her parents.
She was gone from his life just as quickly as she had entered it, and she wanted to keep it that way, so stubbornly, he simply did what she had asked.
But despite all of this; despite his career, dedicating his whole life to football, trying to take the edge of loneliness off with partying and copious amounts of women that throw themselves at professional athletes, the void that she left in his soul was still there, and he still thought about her at least daily.
And now, he was hearing the words ‘journalist’ and ‘Tessa’ in a sentence together, and he nearly felt like his bagel from this morning was about to come up (yes he was planning on eating two donuts after having a whole ass bagel).
Before his brain could catch up, he was shooting his hand in the air, trying to get Coach Rice’s attention. “Where’s this journalist from, Coach?”
“No time for questions,” Rice said, dismissing Tristan and walking off the podium. “Out on the field in two minutes or you’re benched.”
“Shit,” Tristan immediately threw all thoughts of this mystery journalist woman to the side and jumped out of his seat, hustling with every single one of his teammates to get to the locker room and changed as quick as possible.
“So uh, this Tessa girl,” Tristan whispered to Phillip who was standing next to him on the field.
They were both sweating bullets and panting from the relentless drills and plays that the coaches were torturing them with.
Tristan’s lungs were screaming, his legs wobbling, the heat bearing down on his shoulders through his pads, and all he could think about was if this guest journalist was who he had hoped it was.
“What about her?” Phillip asked through panting breaths.
“I mean do you know anything about her? Did coach tell you anything? Other than her name being Tessa?”
“Oh um, no but Brinley had mentioned something about her being her college roommate. I met her briefly once or twice, not a lot of interaction honestly, so I don’t know. Why are you asking?”
“Oh, so she went to Texas Tech?” Tristan asked, his shoulders slumping. It probably wasn’t her then.
“Yeah, she had transferred sophomore year. Forget what school she came from.”
Tristan perked back up at that.
“You said you met her? What did she look like?”
“Uh,” Phillip closed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, trying to take deep breaths to calm his heart rate.
“Shit man I don’t really know. I do remember her being tall and blonde and very pretty but, honest to God dude I probably didn’t spend more than two minutes with this chick.
Why in the hell are you asking me this?”
Holy shit. Tristan’s heart was in his throat. Tall and blonde and very pretty? Check check and absolutely check. Transferred sophomore year? So, after she abruptly left Vanderbilt? Check. A journalist named Tessa? He had to put his hands on his knees in an effort not to pass out.
“You alright? Need a water break?” Phillip asked.
“Fuck no,” Tristan answered immediately straightening back up. No way in hell he was going to get caught admitting defeat against the torture that was the beginning of the season practice drills.
“Then what’s the issue?”
“Tell you later,” Tristan said, jogging back over to the group when the coaches blew their whistles, yelling for ‘all you weaklings’ to get into formation.
And for the next hour Tristan did what he did best. He compartmentalized and stuffed away the gut-wrenching reality that he was about to be faced with his biggest regret – losing Tessa all those years ago.
Once practice is finally over and Tristan is showered and back into his normal clothes, he decides he will retreat into one of the conference rooms to do some research and find out if this journalist really is Tessa.
All the guys were eager to get back home, but Tristan had no interest in being at home right now.
He felt much more comfortable away from his home if he was honest, and right now, he had way too much on his mind to worry about what dramas await him there.
All the guys quickly gathered their things and walked out of the locker room in a big group, low murmurs from their tired conversations dying down once they reached the large open space that was across from their locker rooms when they saw Coach Rice standing and waiting for them.
Tristan was looking down at his phone, so he didn’t notice that the group had come to a complete halt, and he ran into one of his teammates’ very large body in front of him.
“Shit sorry man,” Trist said, finally looking up and noticing the group had stopped and everything was quiet. That usually meant Coach Rice was standing waiting for everyone’s attention to address them.
His eyes left his phone, and what he saw in front of him was nothing short of a dream, because surely this couldn’t be real. There in front of the group was a very large Coach Rice with a very beautiful Tessa standing next to him.
Tristan’s heart stopped, his blood ran cold, and he felt like a bolt of lightning was shooting straight through his body. No fucking way.
There she was, 10 years later, and more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.
She almost looked taller. Without a doubt more womanly.
She had curves and confidence that she didn’t 10 years ago.
She had perfectly trimmed blonde hair that was softer and more honey hued than the bright blonde he remembered, but her piercing blue eyes were the same.
Her hair was way longer than he had seen in previously, and it was straight yet bouncy over her shoulders and cascading down her back, almost to her waist. Like always her makeup and clothing was classy yet somehow bold in an understated way.
Her beauty was truly timeless, and he found it hard to believe that she was able to get even more beautiful than she already was.
Holy fucking shit. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. Tessa, his Tessa, the woman who plagued his thoughts, the woman he was so splittingly angry at all these years later, the woman who he still fantasized about when he was alone and hard, was right here in front of him.
He was in pure shock, so much shock that he was unable to stop his phone was falling straight out of his hands onto the linoleum floor, causing a very loud bang that reverberated down the echoing hallway, and everyone’s eyes went to straight to him, including Tessa’s.
And then their eyes were locked, and he watched as the perfect porcelain skin of her face and neck turned bright pink, her stance shifted ever so slightly, and a thin sheen of tears filled into her blue eyes.
Don’t cry, baby.
His feet moved instinctually to go to her upon seeing her sudden wave of emotion, but Coach Rice’s voice knocked him straight back into reality, and he stayed in place, completely motionless under her piercing blue gaze that it also seemed like she was unable to break.
“This is Tessa Smith, she will be shadowing us the next few months. She is a fantastic journalist. She works for The New York Times. They are hoping to include us in their end of the year stories and would also hopefully be doing a solo publication on our team if we win the super bowl this year. So, this is a big deal for her as well as our team, and I fully expect you all to treat her as such, with your upmost respect and kindness. Do I make myself clear?”
A resounding “yes sir” came from all of the guys, resulting in Coach Rice giving a satisfied nod before dismissing the group.
He stood by Tessa’s side as the group of guys walked down the hallway, some nodding their heads at Tessa, other’s fully stopping to shake her hand and introduce themselves.
Tristan stood at the edge of the pack, waiting for everyone else to disappear so that he could have her to himself.
As the crowd continued to thin, and she came back into his vision again, her smile nearly brought him to his knees, and then their eyes met.
And suddenly his plan to walk straight up to her and give her his charming smile was straight down the drain because he could not move.
Paralyzed in place by her beauty, how much taller she stood, how her energy and aura radiated warmth and confidence, and honestly, also by fear.
They stared at each other, neither one moving or speaking; the voices down the hall growing quieter, but the energy between them only growing thicker. Until Coach Rice cleared his throat, completely slicing through the tension.
“You good Kelly?” He asked, a sparkle of mischief deep into the man’s eyes that one would miss if you didn’t know him well, but Tristan did.
“Uh, yeah,” he spoke up, clearing his own throat and willing himself to sound much more confident than he did. “Do you mind Coach? I’d like to catch up with Miss Smith. We went to college together.”
“Is that so?” He said, looking between the two of them. Tessa still stood silent, still keeping her gaze locked on Tristan.
“Yes Coach,” Tristan answered.
“Okie dokie,” Rice replied in his thick midwestern accent, the ridiculous words hanging awkwardly in the heavy air between them.
Tristan waited a few seconds for Coach Rice to walk away before he took a few tentative steps towards Tessa, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, Tessa’s breath quickening with each step he got closer.
Until they were fully in front of each other, gazes locked, energies magnetically pulling their souls painfully back together.
After all this time, that pull, that energy, that unadulterated longing and chemistry, was still there.
And neither of them knew what they were going to do about it.
“Hey Tess. Long time, baby.”