“Go out and get a drink with them. Hang out with them. You’ll be working on your relationship with them and getting your mind off the girl. Two birds, one stone.”
He has a point. It’d be nice to actually fit in with the team for once. To be a part of the group without feeling like I don’t belong. It’s not that I need their approval. Not exactly. It’ll be nice to not have to hear the shitty remarks they have about me being on the team. They’ve had years to build their friendships. “Okay, I think I can do that.”
“Good.” His wife says something but I can’t hear her over the airport noise. “I have to go. But get out and have fun tonight. If that means finding a woman to hang out with, so be it. Just don’t do anything more. We need your head in the game and not on a one-night stand.”
“It hasn’t screwed up my game yet.”
“You know what I mean. I’ll catch you back in Austin.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.
“Asshole,” I mutter. How am I supposed to get a hold of anyone to hang out with? Knock on their doors like a little kid asking if they want to come out and play? Maybe Jordan’s plan isn’t such a great idea. Staying in my room, moping, sounds like a much better idea.
Damn, is this what I've turned into? I barely even know this woman, and I'm freaking out over her denying one date with me. This is ridiculous. I think I'm going to take my teammates' advice and live it up tonight. It's a shame those two women from the pizzeria didn't slip me their phone numbers. But I was trying to be respectful of my date and walked away from them before they had a chance to do anything.
I scroll through my phone to see whose phone number I have. It's not many, and I'm debating whether this is a good idea or not. This woman has made me start second guessing myself, and that's something I've never done. At least, not since dad walked out on us when I was eight years old. I was always worried I wasn't good enough, or asked myself what I did to make him leave. But I never came up with an answer. And that is why I just don't become attached to people. The only people who have never let me down are my mom, my sister, my coaches, and my teammates.
Well, until now at least. I don't think half of my teammates even like me, and that is something I will change…starting now.
A knock comes from my door, scaring the hell out of me, and I drop my phone on the floor. "Shit, I hope I didn't just shatter the screen."
I pick up the phone before standing up and heading toward the door. Thank God there's not even so much as a scratch, but I have no idea who would show up at my door right now. It can't be any ball chasers because the hotel is under strict guidelines not to give out that information. Not that they would anyway, but our owners like to make sure they know not to. I open the door and come face to chest with one of my teammates. "Ross, what are you doing here?" The question comes out more aggressive than I intend, and I slap myself on the forehead. "Sorry, come on in."
Ross ducks his head and comes through the door before shutting it behind him. You never realize how much taller your teammates are until you're no longer on the court. "Jordan mentioned you might need someone to chill with tonight, and I figured I'd ask if you wanted to come down to the hotel bar and drink a few with me."
I guess Jordan knows me better than I thought. I may think I'm better than most of the people on my team, but I also don't like confrontation. At least, unless it includes a feisty brunette in a flight attendant uniform. "Yeah, that actually sounds pretty good."
"You might want to change. You look like you've been sleeping in those clothes, and as much as I don't think you will be bothered, you should always dress to impress when out in the public eye." He walks back to the door and opens it, "Is an hour enough time? I'll just meet you down there to make things easier."
"Sure, an hour should be plenty of time."
He doesn't say anything else and walks out the door. Come to think of it, he doesn't say much at practice either. But he has the respect of our entire team and I'm glad he is the one Jordan reached out to.
Looks like I'll need to see what else is in my suitcase if I'm going to be presentable. The funny thing is, Jordan has never once mentioned anything like that. I have zero doubts it's because he doesn't want my ego to go to my head even more than it already does. Oh well, tonight my ego is all I have.
Ross is leaning against the bar when I walk into the dimly lit room. He’s chatting to the bartender, but it’s not the same one from last night. This bartender has long blonde hair and her shirt is unbuttoned just enough for her cleavage to tease the male customers. That woman knows how to draw them in, and I shake my head. I have a feeling Ross isn’t leaving here alone tonight. Not if the wide blue eyes staring at him from the other side of the bar top are any indication.
He doesn’t notice me until I’m sliding into the barstool next to him. “Can I get a Crown and Coke?”
The bartender bats her eyes at him and then turns to me, “Sure thing.”
“Damn,” Ross mutters. “That girl is so fucking hot.”
“I’m sure she feels the same about you,” I laugh. The sports channel is on the small television in the corner again, and it’s playing whatever game is on tonight. I don’t pay too much attention. At least, not right now. When I get home tomorrow, I’ll be glued to the screen, taking notes on what the players are doing. It’s smart to keep an eye on other teams. It’s the only way to get better.
The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and a small grin crosses her lips as she eyes Ross. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“So, I hear you’re trying to heal a broken heart.” He takes a long sip of his drink before setting it on the counter and pushing it back and forth between his hands. I wish he’d sit down. He’s taller than me when we’re both standing, and now it feels like I’m talking to a giant.
“I think Jordan talks too damn much.” I grimace at my glass. Did he have to tell him anything? How in the hell was there even time? Unless…he somewhat set this up before he left. I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems to know what’s going on with my life before I do. It must be because he’s ‘older and wiser’ or whatever. He’s not even that much older than me and already acts like a grandpa.
“Is it a broken heart?” He finally sits down on the barstool and spreads his legs out so his knees don’t hit the counter. “I’m not one to judge, but the best medicine is to find a night of fun.”
“You know, I think this is the most I’ve heard you talk since I signed onto the team.” He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, waiting me out until I’ll answer his question. Fine. I’ll do it only because I want to talk about something, anything, else. “Not really a broken heart. I’ve only seen the woman a handful of times. She got under my skin and bruised my ego, though.”
“That’s tough, man. You can’t let the females get you down.” He takes another sip of his drink. “I’m sure there are plenty of women in here tonight that wouldn’t mind warming your bed.”
I’m not looking for a bed warmer. I just want to get my mind off Serena for a while. Seeing her on the plane ride back home tomorrow will be a punch to the gut. I wonder if it’s too late to upgrade my ticket to first class. No. I’ll sit in my seat and act like her rejection meant nothing. Fake it until you make it, right? “Honestly, this is helping. I don’t hang out with much of the team.”
