CHAPTER 14 #2
“Yeah, I’m planning on being there,” she answers with a smile. “I’ll see you then, okay? I need to submit this stuff to my boss before the game starts tonight.”
“Oh, sure,” his face falls and he seems to notice that he’s being brushed off, which makes Tessa feel a pang of guilt. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She smiles and gives him a wave before turning and walking back in the direction she was originally headed.
She finally finds the small office she’s been using, an old storage room that was packed with old memorabilia.
Coach Rice had it cleaned and made into an office for her, which she was eternally grateful for.
She walks up to the door and smiles when she sees her name in a gold plaque hanging in the center of the door, and walks into the familiar room, turning on the light, closing the door behind her, and setting everything on her desk.
She startles when the door swings open again.
“Jesus, Tristan,” she hisses, a flood of goosebumps running over her arms at his large frame ducking in through the doorway.
He’s dressed casually today, which she has come to know is not his usual game day attire, but it’s the version of him that always makes her swoon.
She narrows her eyes at him in annoyance, because he knows that.
He knows that him in a pair of sweatpants, old t-shirt, and backwards hat always made her climb him like he was a tree.
“You’re literally a bull in a china shop,” she rolls her eyes at him.
He holds an intense gaze with her, making her heart speed up, and slams the door so loudly behind him that the picture frames on the walls shake.
And then he locks the door, and she swallows past the lump in her throat.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a shaky whisper.
He doesn’t answer her, simply walks towards her like she’s his prey, and stands behind her, his front against her back. She tries to hide her heavy breathing, but it’s no use. Feeling the heat of him right up against her is making her sweat, and she knows that he can see that her hands are shaking.
“How was your date?” he asks in a low, frustrated voice, leaning down so that his lips are directly next to her ear.
“Fine,” is all she is able to say back, and she gasps when his large hands land on her ships.
“Just fine?”
“Yes.”
“Did he kiss you?”
Tessa takes a deep breath as his hands give her hips a squeeze, and she feels a familiar warmth in the depths of her core pulse to life. She tries to open her mouth to get the words out, but she can’t find her voice, so she shakes her head no instead.
“Did he try to kiss you?”
Okay yeah, he did try. But Tessa had offered her cheek at the last second, and the look of disappointment in his eyes was almost enough to make Tessa change her mind, but she couldn’t do it because she knew it wouldn’t be real.
“Tessa,” he says sternly into her ear, his hand reaching up to brush away the blonde hair hanging over her shoulder, exposing her neck to him, and her whole body shudders as she feels his nose softly graze the skin of her neck. “Did he try to kiss you?”
A few loud voices pass by her door, abruptly bringing her back to reality, and she quickly shoves him away, moving as fast as she can to the other side of the desk.
“Literally none of that is your business,” she says, her voice shaky and hushed. She’s trying to seem confident and frustrated at his actions, but really, she’s just incredibly flustered, and he can tell.
“You can’t even look at me when you say that,” he says with a knowing smile.
“Fuck you,” she hisses back. “Please leave my office. I have a lot of things I need to get done in the next few hours.”
“I want to know if he tried to kiss you,” he says again, his tone not wavering.
“And where’s your girlfriend today, Tristan?” Tessa’s eyes suddenly pop up to his, fire and jealousy behind her usually sparkling blue eyes. “Is she here yet to watch you play? I bet she cheers you on so good.”
He stands there glaring at her, arms crossed, stance tall.
“What? Nothing to say?” Tessa wears a sarcastic smile, not backing down from the resentful tone dripping from her voice. “It’s because you know I’m right.”
“You’re not right about shit,” he bites back. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Kiana.”
“I know you’ve been with her for four years, and that she’s living with you.”
“She does not fucking live with me,” he says, his frustration starting to boil over.
“Listen, I wish I had the time to explain everything to you, but I don’t right now.
I have to get ready to play. But what I do want you to know,” he starts rounding the desk, coming over to her side, and her body freezes, preparing for him to be close again.
“What I do want you to know is that when I’m suppose to be focused on her, all I can fucking think about is you.
So, tell me again, how did your date go last night? ”
Tessa’s heart is sputtering wildly in her chest. Can he read her mind? How could he know that her date was just ‘fine’ because she thought about him the whole time? The more likely answer is that he’s still the cocky bastard he’s always been, equal parts frustrating and charming.
“Get out,” she hisses again, and he takes a step back.
“I’m going to be on fire out there tonight,” he says, finally stepping back towards the door and opening it. “I want you watching me.”
“Get over yourself.”
“Watch the game tonight, Tessa.”
She gives him an eyeroll as her answer, and watches as he winks at her and closes the door behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence of her office, her skin still buzzing from where his nose had grazed her neck only moments before.
As Tristan had promised Tessa, he was on fire tonight.
There’s three minutes left in the fourth quarter.
The Titans are down by one touchdown, and the crowd in Arrowhead is pulsing and chanting aggressively.
At just under one hundred yards, Tristan has successfully caught 5 different throws, and he is determined to make this last play a touchdown as well.
The team is huddled, Phil looking at his wrist coach, determining which play he is going to call. Tristan leans in, sweat dripping inside of his helmet, breath coming out in labored spurts. He’s tired, aching, stressed, pumped full of adrenaline, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Play 14,” Phil shouts. “Trips Right 62 Z-Post.”
The huddle claps and Tristan immediately goes to his position.
That’s what he was hoping Phil was going to call.
This play required Tristan to get past the block, blitz around his defenseman, and make a Z formation towards the end zone.
They’ve done it a million times in practice, and everyone knows that Tristan excels under pressure.
And it doesn’t get more stressful than this.
The game is literally down to the wire. This play will make or break their game.
The roar of the crowd is deafening as Tristan keeps his eye on the ball, body completely still, until the center snaps the ball back to Phillip, and Tristan takes off running.
The linebacker across from Tristan blocks him, but Tristan is able to throw his hands out, effectively faking the player of the direction he is going to go, and he pushes right past him, making a flawless Z formation past the safety and remainder of the D line, until he finds the perfect pocket in the end zone.
He already knows that Phil has thrown the ball; he doesn’t need to look.
He can feel the energy and the tension from the crowd and he already knows the ball is in the air, coming straight for him, so he quickly whips around, body and hands already positioned to catch the ball, and with a movement that seems like it moves quicker than the speed of light, Tristan has the ball secured in his hands, feet planted firmly on the turf.
Fucking touchdown.
The crowd erupts and Tristan is pummeled by his teammates on the field.
“Let’s go!”
“Atta boy, Kelly!”
“Makin’ plays, baby!”
Tristan knocks his helmet against his teammates and takes Phillip into an aggressive embrace.
“My fucking guy!” Phillip says, pounding on Tristan’ chest.
Tristan’s head whips around towards the tunnel, where some of the more behind the scenes staff like to hang out during the game, and his heart swells when he sees her.
She’s standing leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with the brightest smile on her face.
Their eyes lock and he has to stop himself from running to her, so instead he gives her a wink, causing her to giggle and shake her head in disbelief.
“Bro,” Phillip says, grabbing Tristin’s shoulders and steering him back in the direction of the side line. “They just showed that whole thing on the screens. Kiana’s going to have a fit seeing you wink at someone that isn’t her.”
“Whatever,” he says, still looking directly at Tessa.
He’s unbothered, because he knows two great things will be happening tonight.
Even though the other team still has about a minute and a half to score, he knows they won’t, and
He will break things off with Kiana tonight, whether she threatens to off herself or not.
“You look fucking hot!”
“Oh, this old thing?”
Tessa and Brinley are in a tight embrace as they stand in the private room in one of the most popular high-end restaurants in Kansas City.
The team is on cloud nine after the win, and everyone has changed into something a bit nicer than sweat stained football pads in order to celebrate their beloved teammate’s birthday.
Tessa is in a stunning red dress that fits tight at the top and flows out at her waist. She has a pair of high strappy heels on, and her blonde hair pulled up into an effortless looking bun with a few strands falling around her face.
The way Tristan’s touchdown wink made her feel was enough to get her into such an outfit, and she was suddenly feeling very bold.
He always loved her in red.
“Are you Tessa?”