by Tia Lewis
Sometimes I wished I hadn’t been blessed with a tall frame and generous curves. Or my red hair, which always seemed to attract attention. Green eyes, full lips that gave men the wrong idea.
I’d spent most of my high school days wishing I were pretty, hoping boys would like me. I was too tall, too skinny. My hair always frizzed, since nobody ever taught me how to do anything with it. There were many instances in which a mother would have come in handy. My military father didn’t know anything about straightening irons and conditioning serums. I wore glasses back then, too, big thick glasses that made my eyes pop even further. I knew nothing about how to dress, how to wear makeup.
Once I blossomed—admittedly late in the game—I wished I were less noticeable. There was no winning. I’d picked up tricks from girlfriends I’d made in Germany, then in Paris when Dad was stationed there and I’d visit over breaks. Other Air Force brats had been around the world and taught me a thing or three.
I couldn’t help noticing the cheerleaders as I walked along the outside of the field with Coach Cramer. A blind man would have seen them, bouncing and cheering and swinging their ponytails around. I wondered what it felt like, having to be cheerful and supportive even when the game was going down the toilet. I was never one who could avoid cursing and throwing pillows across the room when the team fell asleep on the field.
I would have sold my soul to look like one of the cheerleaders when I was a kid. They were my idols, the girls who looked like that. At the same time, I used to wish they would all die in a fiery crash on the bus while traveling to an away game. They’d pretended to be nice to my face, then they’d snicker behind my back. I made it a point to keep the bitterness inside me and off my face while the coach told me more about the team and what I could expect from the players.
“They’re all good guys. I see the ones sitting up there right now—I think you’ll like them. I know you know this since you said it already—but if they act like a bunch of pubescent teenagers, it’s only because they’re together. Catch ‘em separately and you’ll see they’re all good guys.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cramer. I’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a smile. Yes, I understood that, too. Men felt the need to look manly when in the presence of their friends. They needed to make crude jokes and laugh and elbow each other like little boys. I’d seen plenty of it across the pond. The sports themselves might have been different, but the players weren’t.
“Guys! Front and center, please.” I watched the eyes of every player focus on the coach. He’d trained them well. “I want you to meet the newest addition to our physical therapy team. Abby, meet the team—or, rather, the members of the team we have with us at the moment.”
I smiled, nodding at each of them in turn. They introduced themselves one at a time. Jared, Garrett, Chad, Trey, Joe, Brent, Randy. I nodded to all of them, knowing I’d never remember who they were and figured I would have to look them up later.
There was a man in the middle of them, sneering at me. Big, broad shoulders, and tattoos along both forearms and biceps. Brown hair, too messy. Piercing blue eyes. A beautifully shaped mouth that looked just perfect for kissing. A jawline for days. Tanned skin. Absolute perfection.
And I could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea who I was.
“Max Anderson, quarterback.” He sounded like he expected me to bow before him or something, like the mere mention of his name and position on the team would be enough to melt my panties. It was enough, too, but for no reason, he seemed to figure out. I thought I’d bide my time.
“Great. Nice to meet all of you,” I nodded, smiling as I had been. It took everything inside me to stay calm. With all of my heart, I wanted to throw myself into Max’s arms, to show him I’d turned out pretty after all. To tell him how much I’d missed him. God, I was so glad I’d worn a skirt and a fitted polo instead of something masculine. I’d debated on whether I should hide or show off my curves for my first meeting with the team and coach.
I watched Max carefully. His eyes displayed no recognition. He really didn’t recognize me. Should I play with him for a while? Maybe flirt with him, get him turned on, then tell him who I was? I’d have to think it over, play it safe.
In the meantime, I could figure out how to get my heart to stop racing. Max. All the old memories came flooding back. I felt like I should be wearing Coke-bottle glasses and a plaid sweater vest.
“All right, boys. Don’t spend too much time out here in the sun,” Coach chuckled. “And don’t party too hard tonight. You still have to stay in shape for Sunday. We’ll meet tomorrow at noon for your workout.” They all nodded. So they weren’t practicing, but they were working out. Interesting.
“I believe in keeping my men strong, but rested,” the coach explained as we walked away. “I’ve seen other coaches drive their players into the ground. One of them insisted his men be in bed by eleven every night—he even checked on them. Can you believe it?”
I could barely hear a word he said. The blood rushed in my ears until I could hardly listen to a thing around me. “That seems a little extreme, Mr. Cramer,” I said, feeling shaky. Max. What the hell? What were the odds? Sure, it had been a last-minute thing, getting thrown onto the team like that. I’d been in Europe for so long, I’d lost track of him. I’d almost forgotten all about him, in fact, my only memories coming up every so often when I’d meet a devastatingly handsome quarterback. Or when I felt unsure of myself. That did it every time, too.
I got back to my new office and closed the door. It was a beautiful room, very sleek if not very large. I intended to work my way up in the organization, no doubt. It was a good beginning. It had windows, at least, and nice hardwood floors. The entire stadium and offices were relatively new, Coach had told me, only having been opened four years earlier.
I lasted all of three seconds at my desk before letting myself fall apart a little. How was it possible? Was somebody laughing at me up there? Putting me in front of the man who’d ruled my heart all through elementary and high school? Who was my reason for getting out of bed and putting up with the losers and bullies? Who helped me not hate school and life quite so much? He was the only jock who was nice to me, probably because he had known me since we were kids. Our fathers were pals, which helped. But some kids would have shunned me in public when they knew I was social suicide. Not Max. He’d stuck by me and didn’t care who knew we were friends.
But he’d never loved me, or even liked me the way I liked him. Hell, the cool girls he dated didn’t even care that we spent so much time together because I was practically one of the guys, anyway. He never saw me as a girl. Nobody did back then, including me.
I didn’t mind when it came to him. If he liked me the way I was, if I was good enough to hang out with, it was all okay.
I took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the present. I had to be professional. I had to keep my career in mind—I’d built a sterling reputation as a physical therapist, to the point where the team’s owners had pursued me when one of their therapists retired. Still, it had been so last-minute and such a flurry of activity involving packing and moving back to the states that I hadn’t had the time to do much research on this NFL team. I wished so much that I had. I could have prepared myself to see him again. Looking better than ever.
I folded my arms on the desk, leaning my forehead against them. God, I had loved him. It wasn’t just lust. I had truly loved him, wanted the best for him, worried about him when he got a concussion during one game back in the day. He’d been my best friend, and I thought I was his.
A knock at the office door pulled me from my memories. I picked my head up from the desk, reminding myself to be professional again even though I probably had a red mark on my forehead from my arms.
He had to duck on his way into my office. So tall. Broader than he’d been before—he was always in terrific shape, but he’d bulked up as a man in ways he never could as a boy.
“Hey. I wanted to introduce myself a little bett
er,” he said with a smile. A terribly sexy smile.
“Max. I know. I remember you.”
“What? You do?”
I smiled. “Sure. How could I forget you?”
He grinned, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that was so clearly studied, it made me chew the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He was so ridiculous. I wanted to pat him on the head.
“Well, I guess you would know about me. I mean, you’ve probably done research on all of us by now.” He folded his large frame into a chair next to my desk.
“Some more than others.”
“Hmm … Okay, this is weird.” He grinned, scratching his chiseled jawline.
“Sorry.” I blushed.
“Okay, so what do you know about me?” he asked. “Maybe we can talk it over later on—like, over dinner?”
I smiled. It was too easy. “How about I just tell you now? You didn’t learn how to ride a bike until you were eleven. Your right front tooth is a fake because somebody punched it out when you were around twelve or thirteen. You would never pass a cemetery without crossing yourself because it was something your mother would always do. She made excellent lasagna. Your favorite Christmas toy was a set of Power Rangers when none of the kids on the block could get their hands on any. Everybody hated you that Christmas.”
His jaw went slack. “What? Who the hell are you? And how do you know all those things?”
I shrugged. “I’m the girl who punched your tooth out.”
3
Max
It didn’t make any sense. I thought I must have heard her wrong.
“You’re who?” I asked, shaking my head a little. No way. It couldn’t be.
“I said—I’m the girl who punched your tooth out because you picked a fight with me over whether girls could play football. You said girls were only good for one thing—even back then, you were a charmer.” She shook her head with a laugh, and I remembered how surprised I’d been when she hit me. She’d always been such a quiet girl—with a fierce streak, for sure, but she almost never let it out.
The more I thought about it, the more I remembered. “And my dad was so pissed because he had to take me to the dentist to get it fixed. And he made you come with us so you could see what the dentist had to do.”
“I didn’t care, because I felt that I was right to hit you. You were an idiot,” she reminded me.
“You didn’t have to hit me for it,” I said.
“Sure, I did. If more girls had hit you back then, you might not have turned into the obnoxious prick you are now.” But she smiled when she said it, and that smile took me back to a million days spent together.
“Abby?”
“Yes.”
“Abby Morrison?”
“Yes, Max. It’s me!” She smiled with annoyance.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” I didn’t know what to do—shake her hand? Wave? Hug her? What did a person do to a friend they hadn’t seen in almost ten years?
A best friend?
She answered the question for me, standing, coming to me with her arms open. I wrapped her up in a warm bear hug. Too many conflicting thoughts ran through my head. It felt so good to hold her like that—her body was all curves and fullness under her polo shirt. She was like my sister, though, or at least she was. I was holding one of the most important people in my life, one of the only people who ever understood me. The only girl I’d ever been myself around, really and truly myself. She’d never judged me, even though I’d deserved getting my ass kicked. She’d only ever hit me that one time, and I still had the cap on my tooth to prove it.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you before,” I said. And to think, all I’d wanted to do when I walked into her office was be the first to plant my “flag.” I’d had the whole seduction scenario worked out in my head, ending up with the two of us in my bed by the end of the night. I felt like a fucking perv for thinking about her that way. Abby? The girl nobody in school would have fucked back then, not even the biggest losers? This was Abby?
She leaned back, laughing as she looked into my eyes. “I believe it,” she said. “A lot of water’s gone under the bridge since the old days.”
“A lot of water,” I agreed. “You look so—beautiful.”
“Thanks? You hesitated there for a second,” she smiled.
“No, no hesitation.”
“Well, I’ve already been informed by your coach that I should be careful around you boys. You don’t treat the women with a whole lot of respect around here.”
I grimaced. “Don’t pay Coach any mind. He’s an old man.”
“Then tell me he’s wrong. Tell me you’re all a bunch of well-behaved Boy Scouts.” She laughed again, and I remembered how hard it was to ever get anything past her. She was so sharp, so quick. Always the smartest person I knew, male or female. She hadn’t changed in that way.
“So, where the hell have you been for like the last ten years?” I asked, wanting to catch up on everything at once.
“Oh, goodness, that would take all night to explain,” she said.
“Well, you’re in luck. It just so happens I have all night. Come on. Let’s go out and catch up. I wanna hear everything.” For once, I was genuine. I wanted to know where she’d gone—I remembered her dad getting transferred to Germany, but that was it. We’d lost touch right after that. I think I wrote her one letter, and she wrote me one back. Otherwise, I knew nothing about her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely. Why?”
“You’re not going to party with your teammates just one last time?” She was teasing, a little gleam in her eye. It was strange, actually being able to see her eyes for the first time. She always wore thick lenses, I remembered. Her eyes looked even greener than ever.
“One last time. Cute.” I smirked, and she shook her head as she got her things together and straightened her desk.
“Well? Don’t you listen to your coach when he tells you to take it easy on the partying—and the women, I bet?”
“Yeah. We’re Boy Scouts like you said.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed as we left the office.
“So how’s your family?” she asked as we walked down the long corridor to the back entrance, where those of us who worked at the stadium parked. I couldn’t believe I was there with her, and she was asking me about my family. Abby. The girl who knew more about me than anybody else. A sudden thought came over me, chilling me to the bone. What if she told people all my secrets?
One look at her smiling face said there was nothing to worry about. Besides, I reminded myself, that’s childhood stuff. She didn’t even know half the things I had gotten into since she left the country.
“Good. Mom and Dad are still in Pensacola, still thrilled to death that I got drafted in Florida, so I’m always close by in the offseason.”
“Your mom still makes that lasagna with that special seasoning?” she asked.
“Every Sunday night.”
She rolled her eyes, making a happy sound. “Oh, I can still remember it. You don’t understand how many years I’ve tried to get that recipe down, but I always fail miserably. I’m pretty sure she uses top secret ingredients, your mother.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, all that lasagna led to the magnificent physical specimen you see before you today.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spare me, Max. Still full of yourself.”
“More so, now that I have something to be full of myself over.”
At least that got a grin. “Small town boy makes the NFL, huh? I bet everybody at school decided you’d been best friends with them after you got drafted. Right? Buying you drinks, girls flirting with you even more than they did before, maybe even asking you for money?”
“How did you know?” I asked, only half serious. Yeah, I’d been wined and dined after my team signed me. I liked to think at the time that it was all because they loved me and loved knowing that I’d be playing for their team. It wasn’t
fun thinking that they’d only used me. How did she manage to make me feel like shit about myself without even trying?
“That’s how it always is, Max. Especially where we grew up. Everybody wants to have a brush with fame, don’t they? Even if it’s fleeting.”
“So that’s why you became a physical therapist, huh?” I’d see how she liked it.
“Ouch.” She chuckled. “Hardly. We’re most definitely unsung heroes of the team.”
“Heroes?” I scoffed a little.
“Excuse me? Wait and see what happens if God forbid, you get hurt one day. All of a sudden, I’m going to look pretty good to you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She already looked pretty good to me, and it was only the memory of who she used to be that kept me from opening my mouth to blurt it out. How could she have turned out the way she did? How could I not have known what was underneath the frizzy red hair and thick glasses?
We stepped outside, where the air was still warm and a little sticky. Anybody who grew up in Florida was used to it. The sun was starting to set a little earlier in the evening, signaling the approach of Fall just the way opening day did. It was still fairly light out at that point, though, only around seven o’clock.
“So—what do you wanna do?” she asked. “I’m starving. I’ve been back in town for only four days and haven’t had a decent meal yet.”
“Only four days? Where were you before then?”
“I thought we were going to save that for dinner.” She smiled. I recognized her smile, at least. I should have known it when I first saw it—maybe it was more recognizable once I knew who she was. Or once I was away from the rest of the team.
Like they could hear my thoughts, Garrett and Jared strolled out into the parking lot. One look at Abby and me and they grinned. I could read their minds. I wouldn’t embarrass either Abby or me by telling them there was nothing between us—that would be just weird—but at the same time, I didn’t like them thinking the wrong thing.
