I stood, raising my eyebrows and took a step to the door when he cleared his throat.
“I forgot, let me give you my number just in case something happens and you can't make it.”
“I won't miss a day.” I pushed through anything and didn't believe in sick days unless it was contagious. No one would want me getting a player sick.
“I don't doubt that but just in case. What's your number? I'll text you so you have mine.” He pulled out his phone and looked at me expectantly. So, I told him my number. He typed something out really quickly and smiled at me. “It's done. Well, have a good night, Grace. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He waited for me to head back into the restaurant before walking away. I stood, dumbfounded at his mood swing once again. But, I wasn't going to waste any more time worrying about him. He was a great mentor, and that would suffice.
Hours later, finally diving into bed to sleep soundlessly for eight hours, I pulled out my phone to see an unexpected text from Brock.
Hey, it's Brock. I think you're going to be great tomorrow. Feel free to text me if you have questions.
I sucked in my lip, reading it a couple of times. There was no hidden meaning or message that I could decipher, so I sent back a smiley face and a thank you. That was simple and appropriate.
He responded within seconds.
Brock: I'll bring breakfast tomorrow. Come 30 minutes early. Bacon or sausage?
Grace: Bacon. Forever.
Brock: Good choice. I know a place with the best breakfast burritos.
Grace: Best breakfast food ever. Let me know how much I owe you.
Brock: Consider it the lunch I never bought you.
Grace: Fair enough.
Brock: Good night, Grace.
I flicked through the other text, debating on accepting the date invitation for the following night. I met him on the dating website Fritz and Gilly made me sign up for, and he seemed polite and cute. But, it was online. That wasehto me. Gross. What if he was old and lying? A stalker? I shivered. Shit. I needed to man up.
Grace:Hi Stephen, I'd love to meet up for drinks. Can I pick the place tomorrow?
Stephen: Absolutely. Pick wherever you're comfortable. It'll be nice to meet in person. :)
Grace: Hannagan’s is one of my favorites. Is eight okay?
Stephen: Perfect!
I had my first scrimmage and my firstdate-datein a long time. Tomorrow was going to be a great ass day. As Gilly liked to preach, the day is only as awesome as you make it.
Chapter Eight
There wassomething about how the sunlight glinted just the right way to make Brock look like an angel in a devil’s body. His tanned skin shone, and the weather was so damn hot I had to grab a cold, wet towel to pat my neck. It was only noon and it was a cooker.
“Grace, we need to refill the coolers. Hop on with me to get them,” Matt, one of the other trainers, said.
“You got it.” We retrieved the empty ones and refilled them within ten minutes. It was faster with two people, and I liked Matt. He was younger than me, majoring in physical education and had worked part-time there for two seasons. It was hard not to be jealous of his work experience—but I didn’t have a choice. All the internships before this one didn’t pay enough, and I had to continue waiting tables. He showed me the easier spigots to use and the quickest route around the stadium. Both great things to know. We’d barely dropped the coolers off when our radio went off.
“Grace, grab the first aid kit with the ankle braces. Forty-yard line,” Brock’s voice cracked over, my adrenaline kicking in. I would never wish for an injury of any sort, but there was something exciting in knowing someone needed your help.
“On my way,” I said, waving to Matt and then taking off. I threw the items into the empty seat and headed toward their location. The field was packed with people, despite it only being staff and the team, and that was one thing I never understood about football. There were so many damn people on the sidelines between players and coaches and trainers. I weaved through the crowd and athletes to find Brock kneeling next to a kid with a grimace. “Here, boss.”
He looked up, briefly making eye contact, and took the pack. “Thanks.”
Then, he got to work. “Let’s see, here. I know it hurts, but it’s not too bad.”
