This time, two more slaps land on my legs.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Total man whore.”
“Why do we like you?”
I grin again, throwing my arms over their shoulders and settling in. “Because I’m awesome.”
“Just shut up and watch the game. We'll explain it as we go”" Missy says, snuggling closer to me.
I smile once more and lean back, attempting to follow her advice and enjoy the game. As predicted, I don't understand the rules, but I do relish the company. Plus, the view isn't too bad either. Watching twenty-two muscular guys in their snug uniforms running around and grabbing at each other? Nope, I can think of worse ways to spend my afternoon.
TWO
We won. Of course we did. I didn’t actually think we were going to lose, but the pressure still gets to me every damn time. Before every game, I'm a bundle of nerves, jittery and anxious. It's only once the first ball is thrown, the first play unfolds, the first inches are won, that the magic takes over. Every single time.
And this was just a practice game. The real season starts in two weeks, and I know it'll be ten times worse. The anticipation will gnaw at me even more. But for now, I relish in the victory.
“Go Tigers! Go King!” Another random girl throws herself at me. I cringe inwardly when a whiff of alcohol comes from her and I gently peel her off me, plastering a smile on my face.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, trying to be polite to her and her giggling group of friends, all with orange swirls on their cheeks. Football is a big deal around here, and since I'm the starting quarterback this year–my junior year–let's just say the bar is packed tonight ever since news got out that the team's here. Music must be blaring somewhere in the background, but it's drowned out by a constant buzz of excitement.
I offer them another smile when they leave, then settle back next to my girlfriend on the red bench at our regular table in Yetties, the bar-diner-club hybrid on campus where everybody hangs out. She wraps her arms around my waist and smiles broadly at me.
“I’m so proud of you, Ty. You did amazing.”
I pull Kaylee closer with one arm, planting a kiss on her blonde head before taking a sip of my beer. “Well, you did great too, from what I could see in between plays.”
Her pink lips stretch into a wider smile. “I know, right? We have a few new cheerleaders this year, but I think everything went smoothly.”
“Yeah, speaking of those new girls on your squad...” Lamar, my best friend and tight end on my line, settles in across from us, leaning over the hardwood table. His big ass grin stands out to his golden brown skin. “That new girl on the left, with the curls. Who is she?”
“Ask her yourself.” Kaylee nods her head at the booth behind him where a few girls are seated with some guys in team hoodies. My teammates.
Of course Lamar turns around, hangs over the back of the bench and pulls on a wild ponytail with dark curls. A shriek follows.
“I guess he found her,” I chuckle, taking another sip of my beer before turning back to Kaylee. “What do you want to do after–” I start, but she’s already chatting animatedly with one of her friends who sits on her other side.
Since I'm not really in the mood to socialize anyway–the adrenaline from the win slowly winding down–I just settle back, drink my drink and try to ignore the lingering gazes coming my way.
The key is to avoid eye contact. It's something I learned last year when Lamar and I found our rhythm, became an unstoppable duo and improved our stats dramatically, catching the attention of agents and college football followers.
It still feels strange when random students or people approach me and start discussing football. I never quite know how to respond when they analyzemythrows in meticulous detail to me. I was the one who made those throws. Sure, I’m hit in the head one too many times during games, but I’m not stupid enough yet that I’ll forget what plays we executed.
And I never fuck up a play. It’s what makes me such a damn good QB if I may say so myself. I’m very focused on my men, knowing the speed and positions of each player, enabling me to make very precise throws, which almost always land in exactly the correct spot. My arm never fails me.
So no, while I secretly hope that I’ll never have to get used to attention, because I trust my game and amateurs rehashing it is just nonsense, my ultimate goal is, of course, an NFL contract. And if and when that happens, I’ll just have to deal with all the scrutiny anyway. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck every once in a while.
So when a couple of guys sidle closer to our table, probably wanting to talk about the game, I’m kinda glad that some commotion by the entrance catches all of our attention. I spot a familiar black-haired girl, with a permanent scowl on herface, and her bubbly Latina friend, who changes her hair color every few weeks. Which is very pink tonight. Missy and Ava. So SSU’s local band, Encore, has arrived. Well, at least half of them anyway. They make their way over to their usual booth next to the small stage and slide in next to two guys I can’t make out.
“They have a new lead singer, you know.” Kaylee taps my bicep when she notices me staring. “I heard that he’s from Europe. Apparently, he’s really handsome.”
“Apparently, huh?” Gulping down the rest of my drink, I lean back again and cross my Chucks under the table. “So you’re telling me you haven’t been checking him out online like the rest of the campus?”
My grin spreads when she starts to blush and rolls her eyes. I’m not a total idiot. Yes, my girl is a bit of a gossip, and there’s no way in hell she hasn’t been stalking his ass online.
When word got out over the summer that some foreign dude would be replacing Boozer Brad, buzz happened. Even I heard about it since she’s not the first to tell me this news when I came back to campus three weeks ago for football practice.
