Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
There’s literally nothing I can do now. It’s all up to her. Releasing control isn’t something that comes easily. Football is a competitive sport; it’s in my nature to do whatever it takes to win. But this isn’t a game. It’s something much more.
Swallowing hard, I will myself to look relaxed and nonthreatening.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Nine
August
I’ll think about it.
Pen’s subdued response to my plan runs through my head as I drive home. I messed up, fumbled the ball, what have you. I felt it with every word I’d uttered since blurting out that marriage proposal. I’m lucky she didn’t punch me in the nose.
My mouth twitches despite my worry. There were moments Pen definitely looked like she wanted to give me a good slap.
Turning onto Laurel Canyon, it hits me that I don’t like driving away. I haven’t seen Penelope in years, and already I’m missing her voice, her eyes, the way she suddenly felt comfortable enough to tease me. My hands twitch with the urge to turn the wheel and go right back to her.
“Great,” I mutter, and increase the volume on the radio. Unfortunately, the next song cues up to the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction.”
Ordinarily, I love the classics, especially the Stones, but having Mick Jagger sneer about not getting any satisfaction isn’t helping my mood. Stabbing the forward button gives me a slight bit of satisfaction, thank you very much, Mick.
Until the radio blasts out the horrifying harmonizing of “Take a Chance on Me” by ABBA.
“What the fuck?” Now, I know that’s not on my playlist. And I know exactly who could figure out my password to add it. “That little shit.”
I hit the hands-free call button on my phone. March answers on the third ring. Since I haven’t turned down the radio, he hears the music immediately and laughs.
“Excellent,” he says.
“Fucker.” I’m trying hard not to laugh.
“Please tell me Pen is in the car with you.”
Scowling, I turn the volume down. “Why would Pen be in the car with me?”
I can almost hear him shrug. “You had the same flight out. Logic dictates that you’d offer her a ride home.”
“How the hell did you know we had the same flight— You know what? Never mind. I don’t know why I even ask.”
“You choose futility. I know everything.”
“Sure you do.” I make a right onto my street. “Just remember payback is a bitch.”
“Bro, you are on a different coast from me for months. I feel pretty safe.”
“Famous last words, squirt.”
He snorts. “I’m bigger than you.”
“Only in height.”
“And muscle.”
“Please. I can toss you like a bag of cookies.”
Outrage colors his laugh. “Like hell.”
“Hell is what’s going to rain down on you when I get my revenge.”
Again he snorts, long and exaggerated. Then his voice brightens. “So . . . How was the flight with Pen?”
It’s scary how well he knows me. And annoying. “Fine.”
“Fine, huh? You two crazy kids get along all right?”
“Sure.” I eye the call button. Maybe I can hang up on him and blame it on bad LA reception.
“Uh-huh. Did you ask her out?”
“What?” The car swerves, and I glare at the road. Fucking March.
“Don’t give me that.” He sounds bored. “There were definite vibes between you two—finally. You need to get off your ass and ask her out.”
If he only knew what I’d asked of her.
“What’s with you trying to put me and Pen together, anyway?” It comes out far more annoyed than I want, and any sign of weakness will make March dig in.
“Truth? Because you were looking at her the way you used to look before an upcoming football game. And I’m thinking if something gives you that feeling you go after it. But what do I know?”
The ancient SUV feels too close and too hot. I should never have asked March a question I didn’t want the answer to. Lesson learned.
“The flight was fine. I drove her home. End of story.” For now. Please don’t let it be the end of our story. Shit, I’m in so much trouble.
March, for once, doesn’t push. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Welp.” He sighs expansively. “If that’s all, I’m gonna text Pen and ask her what’s up.”
What! And, wait. That little . . . How the fuck does he have her number?
“Don’t you dare—”
He’s already gone.
“Shit!” Banging the wheel, I’m halfway to calling him back, maybe calling Pen and begging her not to say anything to March. But then I take a breath. March is bluffing. I know it. And if, on the off chance, he’s not, I trust Pen not to talk.
Even so, my head starts to throb.
“I need a fucking nap.”
Pulling up to my gate, I’m reminded of Pen all over. While her house, and its gate, are old Hollywood class, my place is new construction ostentation.
Since the new rules for college athletes went in place, I’ve been making money on endorsements for years. Not the obscene amount of the NFL deal, but a lot, as have both my brothers. My father immediately found us a money manager, and my savings were nice and plump long before the draft. It’s a comfort given that the career of a professional athlete is short and brutal. I invested in some properties, but I didn’t buy a home until I’d signed.