Throw, catch, throw, catch. By the end, my arm was gently suggesting I take a break.
"Get some water," the coach said. "How's your hip?"
I twisted my body a little at the hips. "Fighting fit. Ready for the weekend." We had a game on Friday night, one of the last for the preseason. I wouldn't play for long, in case I was injured, but long enough that I needed to be ready.
While I sipped, I watched Quinn hovering around the sidelines, watching us practice tackles and working throughtheir techniques for breaking through the opponent's line. To the untrained eye, it probably looked like a bunch of guys trying to smash each other to the ground, or shove each other as hard as they could. There was more to it, more flair. Football was all about choreography, like a dance. If I told the other guys that thought, I’d never hear the end of it.
Although, we wanted to get shoving and smashing down to a fine art too.
"You guys are looking good this season," my coach, Harrison Snell, said. "No reason we can't kick ass."
"I'm all in favour of ass kicking," I said with a smile. "I kinda like winning."
He chuckled. "No shit. I noticed. Ain't nothing wrong with that."
"I'd be in the wrong job if I didn't like winning." I winced as one of the guys slammed into the line so hard he pushed the others back several steps. He misjudged his own momentum and nearly fell on his face.
"Again," Quinn shouted. "Without looking like a clown."
"Ouch," Snell muttered, but he was grinning. If any of the players couldn't take being called a clown, or worse, they wouldn't last long around here.
"I sense a new nickname coming on," I said.
"Bozo?" Snell suggested.
I grinned. "I like it."
He clapped me on the shoulder. "Okay, back to work before Quinn thinks you fell asleep over here."
"Not much chance of that," I said, but I grabbed up a ball and trotted back out to the field.
"So,when do we get to meet this chick?" Chase asked as we walked toward the locker rooms.
"Twelfth of never." I cut him a look. "You guys would scare her off." Okay, I doubted that. In fact, I was sure Becca would like them. But…was I ready for them all to meet just yet? This thing with her was so new, we'd barely had time to think about it ourselves, much less introduce her to these clowns.
"Awww, c'mon," Bam said. "She coming to the game on Friday?"
"I hadn't thought about it." I shrugged.
Was it too soon for 'bring your girlfriend to work' day? Was she my girlfriend? I liked the sound of it, but would she?
Too many questions, none of which I had an answer to.
At the beginning of last night's date, I would have sworn up and down she hated my ass. By the end, she was raking her fingernails over it. I had a scratch or two to prove it. Damn, I needed to think PG thoughts for a while before my dick stood to attention.
"I guess she might," I said finally. A nice spot in the private box, with food and alcohol, sounded right up her alley. Not fancy, but less overwhelming than the crowded stands. Maybe Vera and Brody could bring the kids and make a night of it. Would that be too much pressure, to include herandmy family? She made friends with them, and apparently Penny adored her, but everything felt different now, somehow. I'd all but forgotten about the bet.
All I could think about was her.
As I took a moment, I realised how much I'd hate losing. For once, it had nothing to do with the competition and everythingto do with seeing her regularly, but knowing she wasn't interested in me.
"Fuck," I said softly.
"What?" Chase asked, his shirt around his neck where he'd stopped halfway through taking it off.
"Nothing." I pulled off my own shirt and threw it aside. My shorts andIncredible Hulkboxers followed before I stepped into the shower. I'd never been all that shy about my body, but I was even less so these days. I hardly noticed, unless journalists were around, or TV cameras. A guy had to havesomemodesty.
"Didn't sound like nothing," Chase said over the top of the cubicle. "Did you just realise she might like me more than you if I meet her?”
