by J. Nathan
I mirrored his smile. “Awesome game.”
“Obviously.”
I rolled my eyes. “Flip might not realize you’re the reason he looked so good today, but that reporter and the majority of the stadium knew.”
He shrugged coyly and a glimpse of the old Jordan appeared.
“Oh, now you’re gonna get all humble?”
He laughed.
“I’m serious. You looked amazing out there.”
“Thanks to my good luck charm.”
I laughed when I realized he was referring to me. “Oh, no pressure or anything.”
“All you’ve gotta do is show up at my games.”
Though I already knew I’d be there, my lips twisted in contemplation. “I may need some persuading.”
“Oh, yeah?” His voice dropped to a lower tenor. “Because I can be very persuasive.”
Another swarm of butterflies filled my belly. I wasn’t used to him flirting with me, and I tried to stop the thoughts whirling through my brain telling me his feelings may have changed.
“Emery?”
Both Jordan and my eyes shot to Flip standing behind him down on the field. How had I not seen Flip approach? I guess, just like when I was a kid, when Jordan was around, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” Flip said to me.
Jordan exaggerated a cough.
Flip looked to him.
“You played a great game,” I said, trying to redirect Flip’s attention.
“Thanks to me,” Jordan choked out under his breath.
Flip ignored Jordan. “Our floor’s gonna celebrate tonight. You in?”
My eyes jockeyed between Jordan looking about ready to say something insulting, and Flip awaiting my response. “Yeah. Sure,” I said.
“Great.” Flip looked to Jordan. “You heading to the locker room, Grady?”
“Nope,” Jordan said.
Anger filled Flip’s face, but he pulled it together long enough to peg both Jordan and me with his eyes. When neither of us budged, he turned and walked to the tunnel, begrudgingly leaving us alone.
“You didn’t ask where you guys are celebrating,” Jordan said.
I cocked my head. “You’re seriously gonna go all protective big brother on me now?”
“Someone’s got to.”
“I’m a big girl,” I said. “Or haven’t you noticed?”
His eyes drifted up my bare legs, over my cutoffs to the Alabama T-shirt hanging off my shoulder. “No, I’ve noticed.”
I swallowed down my surprise and struggled to look him in the eye. “I should probably get going.”
He nodded. “It was nice of you to come…see Flip.”
“You know that’s not the only reason I was here.”
He shrugged, as if unconvinced. “See ya later, Em.” He turned and made his way toward the tunnel.
I dropped down into my seat with my heart rattling around inside my chest. Was it always going to hurt so damn much every time Jordan Grady walked away from me?
Grady
I gathered up my shit after a nice long shower and took off toward the locker room exit.
“Grady,” Coach called.
“Fuck,” I grumbled as I turned around and trudged back toward his office.
He didn’t bother to look up from the tablet he tapped away at on his desk as I stopped in his doorway. “Sit.”
I dropped into the chair opposite him.
He glanced up. “How’d today feel?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, your game?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t bullshit me,” he said. “You know you played well. Probably the best I’ve seen you play.”
“I made some nice plays.”
He shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or amused. “Listen. I wasn’t gonna say anything because, frankly, you aren’t the most…focused player on the team. But people have been asking about you.”
“What kind of people?”
“People who might be interested in taking a closer look at you.”
I flinched. “Seriously?”
“This doesn’t have to be the end of your football career,” Coach said.
I cocked my head. “You’re serious.”
“Teams need a guy like you.” Coach shook his head, almost amused. “I never thought those words would ever leave my lips. But, you might just have what it takes to be a leader. And, teams have begun to take notice.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled.
“Have you considered what comes next for you?”
I half shrugged. “I just figured I’d try law school. If any of ’em will even take me.”
He scoffed. “Maybe you should reconsider. See how the season plays out.”
I sat speechless, never in a million years thinking any teams would be interested in me. I wasn’t a marquee player. Hell, I wasn’t even that likable. But maybe I actually had a chance of making it to the pros—if I didn’t fuck it up.
But one thing was for sure. I needed to have a killer season. And even that wouldn’t be enough. I’d still need to prepare for the pro scouting combine so teams could assess my abilities.
Making it to the pros wouldn’t be easy.
But then again, nothing worth having ever was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grady
I dropped my bag down by the door as soon as I stepped inside my house. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked into the living room, still kind of floating on cloud nine now that Coach had sent my future goals on their head—in a good way.
Abbott played a video game on the sofa. He glanced up. “What up?”
“You up for going out?”
“Dude. I’m always up for going out. Will there be girls?”
“Unless we’re going to a monastery, yeah, there’ll be girls. Let’s hit up the bar. If it’s lame, we can crash a party.”
He tossed down his controller and hopped off the sofa. “I’ll be ready in twenty.”
“Twenty minutes? Are you a girl?”
“I just wanna shave the areas I’m hoping a lady will be seeing tonight.”
“Yup. Totally sound like a girl.”
He cackled as he disappeared upstairs.
I dropped down onto the sofa and scrolled through the newsfeed on my phone. Lots of fans had posted shots of our game, mostly selfies of themselves and not me or the guys on the field. I scrolled more, stumbling upon some posts from Thursday night’s preseason pro games I hadn’t seen. My old teammates were dominating. Caden Brooks had a stellar preseason game, throwing for three-hundred passing yards. I knew he would. The guy was a natural quarterback. I scrolled some more. Trace Forester had kicked some ass too. His pretty face was plastered all over the feed, having scored a touchdown in his first preseason game like the superstar he was.
Could that be my story in a year’s time? I’d only ever dreamt about playing college football, telling myself a career in the pros was a pipe dream. Telling myself my football career would end after college. But now, the pros could actually be a possibility and within reach. I thought I’d been prepared for my career to end at the close of the season, but after today’s game, and my part in getting us the win, I couldn’t imagine not being out on a football field ever again.
Abbott only took fifteen minutes to manicure his goods, and we hopped in the waiting car. Our win was cause for celebration, as was the latest news about my future—which I planned to keep to myself so not to jinx it.
Cheers and raised glasses greeted us as we entered the crowded bar. I’d never been on the receiving end of praise when I entered a room like Caden and Forester had, so the reaction definitely inflated my already good mood. I did, however, refrain from pointing at everybody like the douchebag.
Before I knew it, a drink was shoved in my hand and I was ushered to the dance floor where a group of girls da
nced around me. I raised my hands above my head and shook what my mama gave me with the bass pounding in tandem with my pulse. The multicolor lights flashed across the faces of everyone on the dance floor as I scanned the crowd. A honey of a girl ground her ass up against me. I dropped my hands to her hips and let the music move us. Her friends eventually disappeared and it was just me and her for the next half hour.
By the bar, I spotted Flip with a group of people fawning all over him. Thankfully, Emery wasn’t one of them. But if she wasn’t hanging with Flip like she said she was, where was she? My head twisted around, searching the bar for her. It didn’t take long to spot her in line for the bathroom. Her eyes were on mine. Her lips quirked when our gazes collided. I lifted my chin in acknowledgement. Her eyes dropped to the girl grinding up on me. I shrugged, knowing nothing else I did would make me look like the guy she once knew. And, at that moment, it sucked not being able to give her that guy.
Emery’s gaze wandered away from mine, and I felt like the fuck up I knew I was most of the time.
“Are we gonna head back to your house?” my dance partner yelled over the music.
I glanced down at her. “Ummm.”
“Or we could go back to my place,” she said with a sly smile on her bright red lips.
I glanced to the line for the restroom. Emery wasn’t there. I hated myself for even looking over there when this girl was willing to go home with me. This was high school all over again, and I was feeling guilty for being with other girls. There was nothing wrong with it. It was natural. But knowing I had Emery in my life always made me feel guilty. Maybe it was the fact that she used to like me. Maybe I didn’t want to hurt her. But now, we were both grown. And her crush on me was clearly over. So, why did I still care?
I looked down at the girl I’d spent the last half hour dancing with. She was smiling at me. She had a cute face. A nice body. But I did what I’d always done when Emery was in my life. “Sorry. I’m not looking for this to go any further than the dance floor.”
The girl’s mouth opened then closed into a tight line. If ever a person were to haul off and punch me, it should have been her at that moment. But she didn’t. She spun away from me, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.
The music suddenly changed to a party anthem. The noise in the room reverberated off the walls as the whole bar jumped around and sang along to the lyrics.
Someone tapped me on my shoulder and I turned around.
Emery stood there, her eyes dancing with amusement. Her skinny jeans and sparkly black tank top made her fit in with the rest of the girls in the crowded bar. But she wasn’t just any girl. “What’d you do?”
My eyes narrowed.
She ticked her head over her shoulder. “To make her ditch you in the middle of the dance floor?”
“I told her I wasn’t taking her home with me.”
Emery stared at me, her brows drawn. “Why not? Isn’t that what you college football players do? Get girls to go home with you?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. You wanna come home with me?”
She laughed and her entire face lit up like it did when we were younger. And that right there. That was the reason the other girl wasn’t coming home with me. She didn’t look at me like Emery did.
The thought hit me hard, nearly leveling me.
I wanted to be looked at the way Emery looked at me—like she saw the real me. I deserved that.
“If that’s your game,” Emery said. “I can see why it’s not working.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She nodded. “A girl likes to feel wanted. She doesn’t want games. If you don’t plan on taking it past the moment, make it clear to her.”
I grabbed Emery’s hands.
Her eyes dropped to our linked fingers. “What are you doing?”
“Dancing with you. Though, I’d say our night under the big tree might’ve been more memorable.”
Her head shot back. “You remember that?”
“Of course I remember that.”
She swallowed down hard, my words obviously affecting her. “Flip’s gonna be wondering where I am,” she said. “I came with him.”
“Flip!” I shouted across the dance floor toward the bar where he stood.
“What are you doing?” Emery said, ducking her head into my chest.
Flip didn’t hear me, but other people got his attention for me. He turned and his eyes found me, narrowing when he spotted Emery with me.
“I’m gonna dance with Emery!” I called to him before turning us away from him.
Emery pulled her head back and looked up at me. A flicker of amusement lit her eyes. “Why’d you do that?”
“Weren’t you just the one who told me not to play games? To make things clear?”
“To a girl.”
“Flip’s as feminine as they come. And by the way, he didn’t say you couldn’t dance with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. He’s not my boyfriend. And even if he was, no one tells me what to do.”
I pulled her against my chest, moving my hips playfully against hers as I held our linked hands out to our sides.
She laughed but tried to resist dancing, forcing our hands down and standing still.
I didn’t give up that easily, holding her closer. And soon her resistance waned.
The song eventually turned to a slow one. Emery tried to move back which just made me drop our hands so I could wrap my arms around her waist. She tensed. But with our bodies that close and me showing no signs of releasing her, she had no choice but to wrap her arms around my neck and move with me.
I buried my nose in her hair. The faint scent of coconut worked its way into my senses. She hadn’t worn anything scented when we were kids. Back then she smelled like whatever we’d done that day. “You were right,” I said.
She lifted her head so she could see my eyes. “About what?”
“You are a good dancer.”
Her perky little nose scrunched. “When did I say that?”
“When you told me I should take you to that high school dance with me.”
She snickered. “You should’ve.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you remember so much.”
I leaned in to her ear. “You were the best part of my childhood, Em. Of course I remember.”
“Why do you keep calling me Em?”
“Because we’re starting over. My new best friend—and lucky charm—is Em.”
“Am I your best friend?”
“I sure hope so.”
“What’s being your best friend entail these days?”
I smiled. “Well, for one, dancing with me when I need a dance partner.”
She laughed and the sound was like hearing my favorite childhood song, familiar and filled with the best memories.
“Playing games when I need a video game partner.”
“I hate video games,” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since forever.”
“Then why’d you play with me all the time?”
She tilted her head to the side, as if I should already know.
“How about checkers?” I continued. “Remember you used to kick my ass at checkers?”
“I could still kick your ass at checkers.”
I chuckled. “There are gonna be times I need someone to escort me to a party.”
“Sounds like you need a wingman, not a best friend.”
“Not true. I don’t need you helping me pick up girls.”
Her brows shot up.
“That’s what a wingman does,” I explained.
“Well, good, because I’ve never been good at thinking anyone is good enough for you.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. It had been a long time since someone thought I was worthy of anything good. I’d made sure of that. Pissing people off was my MO. It kept most at arm’s length. But the single observation from my oldest frien
d reminded me of the truth. “I’ve missed you.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Good.”
“Emery?”
Her head twisted over her shoulder.
Flip stood there, impatience evident in his eyes. “We’re gonna head out. You staying?”
Her eyes cut back to me, indecision written on her face. But it took no more than a second for her hands to drop from my shoulders. She turned to Flip. “Nope. I’m coming with you guys.” She glanced back at me. “Thanks for the dance.”
And then she was gone, following Flip like one of his minions.
I didn’t like watching her walk away. Last time had been torture. I’d never let that happen again.
Emery
I stepped inside my room after my shower and dropped down onto my bed. The night had been…unexpected. I wanted to stay with Jordan, but I’d come with Flip and my hall mates. I wasn’t trying to make this a game. I’d been truthful when I told Jordan that Flip was my first friend on campus. I wouldn’t ditch him now that I’d found my old friend. Even if that old friend held a huge piece of my heart.
My phone pinged on my nightstand. I grabbed it and flopped back onto my bed, finding a text from an unfamiliar number. Just so you know. This isn’t about him or me. It’s about me and you.
Who is this? I texted back.
Who do you think it is?
I stifled a grin as I typed my response. Flip?
I hate you.
I don’t think you do.
There was a long pause before the bouncing dots started up and his response appeared. I liked dancing with you.
Oh, now I know who this is. Roger, right?
He fired back. Who the hell is Roger?
I laughed, having way too much fun at Jordan’s expense.
Fine. I see how this is going. Just wanted to make sure you got home ok.
My belly rippled like it had so many times before when I’d hoped his concern for me meant something more. I did.
Alone?
I snickered. Alone.
Night Em.
Night Jordan.
I tossed my phone down and fell back on my pillow.
I was so screwed.
