“Your number if you’re single.”
My eyes dart up to catch this guy’s huge smile. He’s handsome with dark hair and eyes. He looks familiar. Maybe I’ve waited on him? They’re both wearing dark blue uniforms. Not cops, but maybe paramedics.
I laugh. “Does that line ever work?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. I’ve never used it before.”
“Uh-huh. How about we start with drinks and we’ll go from there? The list of specialty coffees is on the board.” I motion to the giant chalkboard menu mounted on the wall behind me.
I feel his stare as I put in the order.
Darlene nudges me and motions to the paramedics. “He’s cute, and he’s obviously into you.”
I shrug. I’m more gun-shy about dating than I care to admit. Besides those ill-advised few months hanging out with Rider, I’ve only dated one guy seriously. When Sean graduated at the end of my sophomore year, he accepted a job in New York, and we parted ways. It was all very civilized. He didn’t suggest a long-distance relationship, and I didn’t pine after him when he left. Rider taught me to guard my heart, and it paid off when Sean moved.
So while I might not have a ton of experience with men, I’d rather not get my hopes up about someone who’ll eventually let me down or break my heart.
As Darlene settles several sandwiches on her tray for the football players, she blows the bangs out of her face. “I swear if they stiff me on a tip, I’ll hunt them down.”
Our sports teams are notoriously bad tippers, probably because they think they rule the earth.
“I got this.” I march over to Ben’s side of the table and lean down. “Hey, please be sure to tip your waitress. You guys always eat like pigs and barely leave the staff any gratuity. It’s rude.”
His jaw tightens, and he gives me a stiff nod. The girl practically sitting in his lap gives me a dirty look. I laugh. “Relax. He’s my brother.”
The whole table goes silent.
It takes me a second to realize what this means.
Even Rider looks surprised. “No shit, Rodriguez. Gabby is your sister?”
I stand there like an idiot, and my throat tightens at the realization that Ben doesn’t tell anyone we’re related. We have different last names since he was adopted by our uncle, but I didn’t think this was some big secret.
One of the other guys—I think his name is Tank—scratches his head. “You don’t look anything alike.”
It’s true. We’re an odd mixture of our parents. While we both have black hair, Benny is a foot taller and has our mom’s soulful brown eyes while I have my dad’s hazel. He has our father’s beautiful olive skin, but I’m pale with a smattering of freckles, like our mother.
God, this is awkward. I back up only to run into a hard body. When I spin around, I come face to face with the paramedic.
He motions toward the street. “I have a call, so we gotta jet, sweet pea, but I was serious about hanging out sometime.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he leans closer. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was the one who took you to the hospital. Last spring, I think.”
Another humiliating day. “Sorry, I was really out of it that afternoon, but you do look familiar.”
He places a hand over his chest. “I was about to be heartbroken if you didn’t remember me.”
I laugh and roll my eyes.
Clearing his throat, he raises his brows. “So… can I call you sometime?”
That’s when I realize the entire table behind me is still silent and listening to this conversation.
One of the dumbasses pipes up. “If she’s available, I’d like to call dibs on a date with Gabby. Ouch. What the fuck, man?”
I turn to glare at my brother’s friends and drag the nice paramedic away by the elbow, pausing when we get to the front door.
“Are those the foot—”
“Never mind them.” I turn him so he’s facing the opposite direction. “Look, I’m sure you’re a really nice guy…”
“Jason.”
“Jason. Hi.”
“The nicest.” He gives me an award-winning smile, one that should do something to my heart, my belly, my pulse, something, except it doesn’t.
“But…” I pause and my attention automatically goes to Rider, which annoys me.
I’m not thinking about Sean, whom I dated for a year. No, I’m thinking about the douchebag who doesn’t give a damn about me. The guy who’s currently nestled against Miranda, a very buxom blonde, who, by all accounts, gives him exactly what he wants, when he wants it, with zero commitment.
While Sean never made my heart race like Rider, he didn’t break it either.
My gaze connects with Rider’s, and there’s nothing there in those stark gray eyes. No apology or regret or longing. Just that enormous wall, the one he erected almost overnight three years ago.
This is the real Rider. The guy who pushes away anyone who gets too close.
And I am one hundred percent sure I’m a fool for still giving a shit about him.
Sometimes I forget he’s a jackass, and I need a reminder so I can keep waving my middle finger at him.
“You know what?” I turn back to Jason and give the guy who actually wants to date me the biggest smile I can muster. “I would love to go out with you.”
5
RIDER
A few of the guys walk with me to Connor Hall to grab some breakfast, but they know the drill. I’m fun and laughs and shits and giggles until game day, and then they give me a wide berth. I need to clear my head.
The deeper into the season we go, the more imperative this becomes. Even after six wins, I can’t let myself consider the playoffs or going undefeated, no matter how often reporters pose those questions. The only thing that matters is today’s game against Iowa.
Faces in my path blur. When someone says my name, I nod, but I’m thinking about play completion. Following through on each release. Checking for secondary plays before I commit.
I slip on my headphones and relax into the pounding beat of the drums in my ears that provide another layer of concentration.
In a weird way, I have the shit that went down freshman year to thank for my game day routine. I had to block out all that noise until the only thing I could recognize was the steady beat of my heart.
I had to focus on what I wanted for my life. Everyone else in my family got to be selfish. Why couldn’t I? I had one chance, one, to make my mark, to show Sully I could do my part, and I decided then and there that nothing—not the bullshit with my parents, not the antics of my friends, and definitely not the drama of a woman—would threaten that goal.
By the time we’re at the stadium, my breathing is slow and my hands are steady. Someone could probably slap me, and I’d barely blink. But this is how I know we’ll win. Because my head’s on right, and when the whistle blows on the field a few hours later, I can read the Iowa defense.
One touchdown. Two. A long throw to my wide receiver, who runs it in for another.
Like curtains rising on a stage, the sound of our roaring crowd finally breaks through to me, and I crack a smile and smack Tank on the ass after he plows through the defense, giving me plenty of time to release the ball. “You’re the fucking man. Keep it up.”