BUMP AND RUN
Gillian
THIS WAS A day I had dreaded for as long as I could remember, but this year I didn’t dislike it as much as I usually did.
No, this year, for the first time, I had a reason not to dislike it.
I had Lucas.
The end of the first two weeks of training camp marked the last of the private field time. Tomorrow practices would be open to the public.
Fans in the stands weren’t the bad part—the bad part was that opening practices to the public meant the cheerleaders had arrived to put some pep in everyone’s step.
And I mean everyone’s step.
The single players were already foaming at the mouth, and the girls were only just unloading their stuff from the bus.
Like the players, the cheerleaders surrendered their car keys at Soldier Field and took a bus down here.
My father lived in a very calibrated world. One where each second of every day had a purpose. Therefore, no one under his watch needed his or her own set of wheels. There were very few exceptions to this rule.
Since it was Sunday, and there had been another scrimmage my father wasn’t too pleased with, he’d called practice early.
In truth, the game was unbelievable, but that was my father for you, always striving for something better. I didn’t blame him, of course. This was his life, after all. Every day was the same—get up at five and go for a run, eat breakfast, watch some film, lead the eight a.m. meeting, more coaching, practice, workouts. His schedule was just as grueling as the players’ schedule.
He also had a sixth sense about when to pull back, and today was the day. It was the first full round of cuts, and every player was on edge.
While my father took care of that, the guys were left with a little more free time before Sunday meal. And then after Sunday meal, they got the night off, with curfew being extended to two a.m.
And tonight I would be meeting Lucas, and we would be doing more than we had been the past few nights.
Lucas and I had met on the bridge each night since deciding we were going to be together. However, during the day it was a bit risky to meet up, and neither of us suggested it, which was why we weren’t together right now.
The past few nights when we met, I felt like I was sitting on a glitter-covered cloud. On that rickety old bridge, the world around us faded away, and it was just the two of us, talking, laughing, kissing.
Lucas and I talked about everything. We had so much in common, more than just football. Our views about life, the universe, and the world. Our favorite basketball teams, foods, and even our mutual love of chocolate ice cream.
We shared our favorite movies, of which his was Rocky, whereas mine would always be Jerry McGuire.
He told me how he thought he would end up playing for the Patriots, and the emotional wall he put up when he ended up playing for the Bears.
We’d also talked about past lovers, his list was much longer than mine, and he left it at that. So did I.
I got off the elevator and looked around.
Since the cheerleaders were arriving today, most of the single guys were hanging out in the common area.
Of course they were.
Kutch was sitting on one of the sofas when I walked by. I had just showered in preparation for Sunday meal and thrown on a dress. This one was a long maxi-dress I had gotten at Top Shop. It had a different black floral pattern on each side and was a wrap. Again, living in Florida had made my wardrobe not only heat tolerant, but easy to wear. Hence the black flip flops I’d chosen for my feet.
My plan was to go to the library and read some trashy magazines to kill the next two hours until dinner.
Kutch was hopelessly trying to tape his own ankle. I’d heard Dallas say that during any single season, an athletic trainer would tape more than three thousand ankles.
As I looked at Kutch struggling, I figured I might as well add his to my count. Besides, somehow over the course of the past couple of years, I had become a master at taping. Massage, not so much—that I was still working on.
“Need some help?” I asked over his shoulder.
He glanced up. “Wow,” he said. “Girl, you gotta date or what?”
“Funny,” I answered. “Do you want help or not?”
He nodded. “You’re my saving grace. Hit me.”
With a shake of my head, I circled the couch and sat down. “Let me see,” I said, directing him to move his leg from the coffee table to the sofa.
I set the materials next to me and began to undo what he had tried to do. While I was unwrapping his ankle, a rookie named Sean Juggerson, flopped down next to Kutch with his laptop in his hands.
“Juggs, my man,” Kutch greeted.
The guys called him Juggs because of his last name, or maybe for a different reason, I had no idea.
“Hey,” Juggs said to Kutch, “so this girl on Tinder says her three favorite things are whiskey, beer, and nachos. What should I tell her are my three favorite things?”
“Blowing the barn,” one of the guys yelled from the chair across from us.
“No, I got, it,” said the other guy in the seat beside him. “Porn, playboy, and jerking the turkey.”
Everyone was laughing.
I didn’t really know either guy, but I think they were from the practice squad.
Kutch shook his head in laughter. “No, Juggs, they got it all wrong. You should say balls, balls, balls.” And then he cracked up even more.
I was used to this kind of talk, just like I was used to being treated like I wasn’t even in the room. As the coach’s daughter, the players preferred to interact with me as little as possible. I got it. Most of the time they censored what they said, but sometimes they forgot I was even around.
Like now.
“Fuck all of you,” Juggs said. “This is serious shit here! What if she turns out to the be the one?”
As I started wrapping, I glanced over toward Sean and saw that he was furiously typing away.
I wondered what he’d decided to tell her. I wanted to offer my opinion, and I was about to, when I caught sight of Lucas entering the room. He was over at the Ping Pong table across the room. And just like that, my heart started to do that pitter-patter thing it always seemed to do when he was in the same room as me.
His expression was hard though, and he didn’t look happy to see me. His gaze flickered between me and Kutch, me and Kutch, me and Kutch.
I sighed inwardly. That territorial she’s mine thing, the alpha male in him, was emerging. I could tell by the look on his face. I only hoped he knew how to keep a lid on it. He was going to have to learn how to temper it, especially since he knew being around these guys was my job.
Out of nowhere, one of the squad guys shouted, “Yo, Carrington, you ever try Tinder? Or are you a Match.com kind of guy?”
Lucas slammed the ball down and swatted it with his paddle as hard as he could. Thor returned it, and this time when Lucas swung his paddle, he blitzed the ball, nailing Thor right in the forehead.
That at least averted the conversation from dating and Lucas, to Thor. While the guys ripped on Thor, Lucas’s gaze slid over me in the laziest way. This time it was warm and inviting, and I found myself getting hot despite the air conditioning that was blasting all around us.
While the Ping Pong game continued, the squad guys started to talk low, but loud enough that I could hear them, even over Juggs and Kutch’s Tinder conversation.
One of them said, “That Carrington dude is wound way too tight. He needs to get laid.”
The other guy responded with, “No shit. I’ve never even heard him crack a single joke about chicks. Everything is all business to him. He needs to lighten up.”
“Dude can’t. He’s an arrogant prick, that’s all there is to it.”
“Right, I know. He never jokes, never laughs, never even swears.”
At that one I had to suppress my own laughter. He swore all the time.
Even though I hated what they were saying. Even though they had no idea who Lucas really was or what he was about, at the same time I loved hearing he never talked about women.
Over the past three nights, Lucas and I had talked about so much. We’d also kissed so much my lips still tingled when I laid my head down at night. And I couldn’t help myself, but I’d begun to think of him as mine.
Dangerous thought.
Very dangerous thought.
The conversation between the two squad players wasn’t over. One said, “All starting quarterbacks are dull as rocks and completely humorless.”
“Yeah, but I bet it works for him. Just watch him when he’s out tonight. I bet he doesn’t even have to try to score and a girl will be in his lap within minutes from the second he walks into the bar.”
The snarl I wanted to unleash was only tempered by the cackle I’d hoped to avoid. Here they came, the beauty brigade, thirty-five of them with their manicured nails and perfectly highlighted hair. And let’s not forget their boob jobs.
It might sound like I was jealous, but I wasn’t. The thing about cheerleaders was that for all of their eight counts and high kicks, most of them were only here for the pseudo-celebrity status that came with their pom-poms. And of course their hopes of landing a player.
Mallory Harlow, who was their coach, was waiting for them to enter. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties, and she had arrived days ago to prepare. I actually liked her.
As the girls filed in wearing their big smiles, short shorts, and cropped tops, all of the guys’ heads turned in their direction.
I finished up with Kutch, who was paying no attention to me, and stood. Frozen in place, I was almost afraid to look over at Lucas. Afraid that when I did he too would be gawking as much as the rest of the players at the cheerleaders.
My heart stopped, that’s how nervous I was.
When I finally forced myself to look over at him, my pulse started to beat erratically. His gaze wasn’t over at the door, but rather, it was on me. And it was filled with an emotion I hadn’t seen before. He nodded his head toward a counter where a water container sat and I started walking toward it.
It was halfway between us, and with each step closer I took toward him, the air seemed thicker, and it was harder to breathe.
He poured a glass of water. I stood beside him. My knees were a little weak, and my breath grew tight and ragged while I pretended to be waiting for a turn at the pitcher. Slyly, he handed me the paper cup and then started to fill another. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.
Beautiful was not anything anyone had ever called me, except him. Cute. Pretty. Freckled. Sure. But the way he said it made me feel beautiful. I flushed from head to toe. “Beautiful is in the other direction,” I quipped, trying to be funny.
He set the pitcher down. “No, it’s standing beside me.”
I sipped my water and hated that my hands were trembling. “Thank you,” I said, and it sounded bashful, something I had never been.
Those blue eyes simmered when he glanced toward me. “I can’t wait until tonight.”
I was just opening my mouth to tell him I couldn’t either, when two short blondes with big boobs started rushing for him. “Oh my God, you must be the new quarterback.”
To his benefit, he didn’t turn right away. Instead he allowed his gaze to linger on me a moment longer. “I’ll text you,” he whispered.
I nodded, and then tossed my cup in the trash before heading toward the door. I didn’t turn back as I left. I couldn’t. Jealously was roaring in my ears and I knew the best thing I could do was walk straight ahead.
Yeah, so I guess Lucas wasn’t the only one who had to learn to temper the green-eyed monster.
I hated that this thing between us was so hard. It felt so right when it was just the two of us that being together should have been the easiest thing in the world.
Too bad it was anything but.