While the football season was over, University of Kentucky had made it to a bowl game for the first time in five years. We played Georgia Tech in the Tax Slayer Bowl—the bowl names nowadays were crazy. We lost 18–33, but the talking heads on college football had nothing but praise for Griffin Graham, saying he was the key to our successful season.
“Vee, the look in your eyes tells me all I need to know.” She took on her mother tone. “Do you haveprotection? I have some condoms in my room. I could let you have a few.”
“A few? Do we need more than one?”
Emma laughed. “That depends on a few different things, but from my experience, it’s better to be prepared.”
“If you let me have two, I’ll buy you more.”
She shook her head. “Consider them my gift.” Her smile grew. “Fin’s a lucky guy.”
“I hope he agrees.” I also hoped he would choose to stay at UK. His dad had been hounding him about the transfer portal which would be open for the next two weeks.
The doorbell to our apartment rang, reverberating through the rooms.
Emma’s smile grew even larger. “We’re about to find out. Let me go let him in. Then you can make a grand entrance.”
I nodded.
Fin’s deep voice came from the other room as I bravely opened my bedroom door and stepped into the small hallway. He was near the front door when Emma stepped aside. Fin’s blue stare scanned me from my toes to my hair, taking in every inch of me as if he was seeing what was hidden.
From my direction, I scanned him too, also knowing what was beneath his dark gray suit. His red tie matched my dress. While I hadn’t been sure if it waspossible for Fin to look sexier than he did in his uniform, tonight I knew it was. And yet, I was waiting to hear his reaction.
“Fuck, Abby, you’re stunning.”
My heart melted to goo.
“Looking good yourself.”
CHAPTER 12
Vee
Present time
Tuesday morning flew by as I met with other members of my marketing team. There were even moments when I forgot that the new hire had tilted the axis of my world. The fact that most of the players were away from Maker’s Mark Football Center helped. The few who were present were here to work on injuries. Thankfully, the players who ended up on the injury report after Sunday’s game weren’t seriously injured. Our backup running back had an ankle sprain, and two of our defensive players were being treated for shoulder injuries.
With my afternoon clear of meetings and obligations, I told Jen to hold all calls, and I barricaded myself in my office. Drew’s playbook was open on my small conference table, and I set up a makeshift offense consisting of eleven red checkers. I’d taped initials to each piece, indicating their position. It may sound silly, but I was a visual learner. Once I deciphered a call, I ran it on my table, moving my offense as they were supposed to go. The receivers ran routes and the running backs ran gaps. Of course, my crude setup didn’t have a defense ready to tackle or stop them. I was only focused on the offense.
The more I studied, the more the words made sense. I knew from collaborating with Coach Everington that each team had their own language. A quarterback couldn’t shout play calls in ways the defense would be able to understand. It wasn’t like Troy or Fin could yell, “Okay guys, we’re going to run a fake handoff to Dijon, then I’m going to step back, read my open receivers left to right. Patel, you run an out route, JD, a corner route, Lewis a comeback, Bennett a dig, and Morgan a post.”
If they did that, the defense would have the information they needed for man-to-man coverage, and the play would get shut down. Instead, each team has substitute words, letters, or numbers. While the playbook was overwhelming at first, sometime last night inmy quiet apartment, I caught on to the redundancy and made a list of terms and their meanings.
It really was like a foreign language.
I was working out a long play.
Explode gun rubber right flip zebra stat left wide drag X hook F-trail can 52 sprint jaw easy on two on two. Ready break.
I was moving my pieces around when my desk phone rang.
The ring set off my nerves and pulled me from the zone I’d been in. “I told her no calls,” I mumbled as I made my way over to the phone. “Jen, I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“I’m sorry, Vee. Mr. Grant Marsh is here. He’s rather insistent that he speak to you.”
My cousin.
Exhaling, I complied. “Let him in.”
