It can’t be true. This obsession with her isn’t healthy. Love shouldn’t be all-consuming. It shouldn’t be an itching need.
If I’d had a healthy relationship with my goddamn parents growing up, I’d probably right now be in a healthy relationship with a girl who doesn’t fill my thoughts every single moment of the day. One who doesn’t distract me from football and my future goals.
Fuck, I haven’t given the slightest thought to grad school or job hunting or whatever the fuck I want to do after college ever since the game began.
She’s wrong for me, and it’s time to finally cleanse myself of her.
CHAPTER 20
Tristan
“Tristan, that interception in the third quarter was a game changer.” My mom smiles wide. “You read the quarterback perfectly.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My mom knew nothing about football until I started Pee Wee at five years old. Within months, she became as fiercely analytical as a sports journalist, and every bit as annoying. Why are we talking about football when Amy is quiet and fidgeting next to me? Both my mom and dad should be going out of their way to make her feel at ease.
I reach under the table and grab her restless hand, shooting her what I hope is a comforting smile.
The restaurant is dimly lit with big chandeliers and mosaic tile. This is exactly the kind of place I’d like to take Amy. Just the two of us. Where she could talk to her heart’s content about writing. I could impress her by ordering the whole damn menu. And then we could end the night by cuddling on my bed and watching whatever adaptation ofPride and Prejudiceshe wants.
I’ll be lucky to even get a good-night kiss for how annoying my parents are behaving.
“How did you do on your Probability and Statistics test?” my dad asks.
Fuck, are we really doing this?
They haven’t asked a single question about what’s going on in my life outside of football and academics. I have a new girl with me, damn it, and they’ve barely even spoken to her.
“I got a D,” I say.
My mom’s mouth drops open. “D? When have you ever gotten a D on a math test?”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” I squeeze Amy’s hand.
My mom shakes her head. “That stupid, sexist competition. The admins should be going out of their way to make sure you keep up with your coursework, especially since you’re one of their students with the biggest potential. Someday, you’ll be enhancing their reputation. You’ll probably be in the NFL.”
I snort out a laugh. “Mom, that’s not happening.”
She scowls. “Why would you say that?”
I take a sip of my wine. “Because I’m playing for a Division II school. NFL would be like winning the lottery.”
“If you know so much about probability,” my dad says, “you should have done better on your exam.”
Oh my God, here we go. How embarrassing that they have to be their full selves in front of Amy.
“I got a C in statistics,” Amy says, probably the most words she’s said all evening. “My only C. It was just regular statistics. I’m an English major, and I thought it would be the easiest of all the math classes.” She smiles shyly at me. “I was wrong. I’d never be able to pass any of Tristan’s fancy math classes.”
Warmth fills my chest, and I squeeze her hand under the table. That was probably the most self-deprecating thing Amyhas ever said in my presence, at least when it comes to her intelligence, and I know why she did it.
She’s standing up for me in her own shy way. And here I am, lying and scheming so that I can use her for a few months and then discard her.
My heart squeezes so tight it’s hard to take a breath. Fuck, I really don’t want to hurt her.
My mom smiles at Amy. “Some of us are good at math, and some of us are good at verbal reasoning. Tristan struggles in anything related to the arts. So did his dad.”
“And you’re good at everything,” I say.
