Her First Game

by Suzanne Hart

  Dahlia

  I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating. I glanced at it only to make sure it wasn’t my mom. It wasn’t. It was James. There he went again. The fourth time in the last two days. I had sent him a text message before bed yesterday, letting him know that I couldn’t talk. I was under a lot of pressure with this new job and felt like I had to do a lot to catch up with everything. I had never felt so completely surrounded by people that assumed I didn’t know what I was talking about. It was true in medical school, as I was surrounded by competitors, men, and people who would rather see me fail, but now it was different. I was halfway across the country and entirely out of my element.

  But that wasn’t it. After those two encounters with Chet, I couldn’t deny the fact that my heart started racing at the mere thought of him. In the last week, every time I had gone to work, I have been looking around for him, hoping that he would show up and talk to me again. I couldn’t ignore the fact that it wasn’t fair. I had led him on and then left him standing there at that bar alone. A smile played on my lips as I stood up and dragged my feet across my bedroom to my bathroom. I curled my toes on the black fuzzy bath mat, biting my lip at the image of myself in my mirror.

  I ran my hands through my matted hair, that stupid smile still on my face. Could it be possible that this face could draw him in? Chet Blackwood. Our conversation at that gala felt like a fantasy. I wanted to be around him more, wanted to find out more about him, wanted to be closer to him. How could I feel so comfortable and yet so on edge with him at the same time? It was the kind of excitement I hadn’t experienced in the longest time, and definitely not with James.

  James.

  I winced at the thought of him sitting at his desk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, peering at his computer. I should have been obsessing about him and how much I missed him. I should have longed for his voice and his touch. But even the thought of hearing his voice made me grimace. He would probably say something annoying like how I shouldn’t be eating potato chips because processed fats are bad for you and it’s probably why I am so tired, or something about how it’s hard to think about two things at the same time.

  That’s the way he was: always more interested in what he had to tell me than how I would respond to it. I shook my head as I rinsed off my toothbrush and made my way back to my room to dress my bed. I shouldn’t have been thinking those things. That was just his way. He was always a little weird, and sharing those little factoids was his way of connecting with other people. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t accept that? No.

  I picked up my phone and searched his name in my address book, but as my finger hovered over the call button, I started to wonder what I would even say? How could I tell him about meeting Chet Blackwood without feeling like a total fangirl? No, I had to keep some distance while I was trying to settle into everything. It was the fairest thing to do. I dropped my phone on my bed and went back to my bathroom to get dressed.

  ***

  I glanced at the clock on my wall. I had been sitting in my office all morning looking for a bunch of fake things to do to keep me occupied. I settled on organizing my desk space. The pens separate from the pencils; the erasers settled just-so if needed; my planner on the right corner; a complete wipe-down of my computer; then my keyboard; then the entire desk. Once that was done, I checked my email. Not much. Finally, I booked a nutrition advisement meeting with the health and safety board.

  Now I had one more minute left before I needed to head to my examination room for the team physicals. I was stuck in my thoughts, which inevitably led back to Chet. I would have to do something about this. It was wrong. Completely wrong. I had James and even though I was tired of James now, I had to hold on to him. Who was I without him?

  Finally, the minute was over and I headed to the examination room. Each physical was uneventful. There was one after another, the athletes marching through like soldiers, grumbling yes and no answers to my simple questions. I had been nervous about being alone with all of this nationally famous athletes, the new doctor on the team, having to prove myself. But they all seemed pretty complacent as if it didn’t matter who I was as long as they got it over with. I had heard rumors about the way that these players neglected their safety, but it had never been anything like this. It was as if they found it strange and uncomfortable, having someone solely interested in their bodies in a way that didn’t involve how they could make money off of them, or how they could push them farther and farther past their limits.

  I had worked through almost all of the athletes and was starting to believe that today was going to be another uneventful and successful day. In fact, I was considering calling James back when I got back to my office and even my mother too, when there was a knock on my door. Strange. The athletes usually stood outside the door twenty minutes before their appointment and just came in when they saw the one before them come out.

  I frowned. “Yes?”

  I heard the person come in as I was preparing the charts; slow, deliberate steps.

  When I looked up, my heart skipped a beat.

  There was Chet standing in the center of my examination room with his dress shirt already partially unbuttoned, exposing his undershirt. His hair was combed back, perfectly groomed, even though I could tell from the five o clock shadow on his face that he hadn’t shaved that day. He smirked at me, a twinkle in his green eyes. I sucked in a deep breath. “Don’t you have a regular physician for this stuff?” I put the chart down. It slipped out of my hand, landing head down on the counter, making a clunking sound.

  “This is more convenient.”

  I nodded, “sure.” I hated the way my palms get sweaty. I was so annoyed with myself for being so affected by his presence. Now I had to be nervous. It was such a distraction.

  “So,” He cleared his throat. I watched the smile fade on his face, realizing that he had sensed my annoyance. The little bit of hesitation I saw as he took off his shirt and laid it, ever so slowly, on the bed, let me know that he was beginning to think that he had actually miscalculated the whole thing.

  So I smiled. “Let’s do the height and weight first.” There was no reason why we couldn’t be friends. In fact, few people would see something wrong with being close friends with the owner of the Dallas Cowboys.

  He nodded. “Right.” And stepped on my scale.

  My eyes widened at the thud his feet sounded as he settled on the slab of metal. I pulled the weights forward and backward on the balance, waiting for everything to even out. I nodded, grabbing my clipboard. “187 pounds.” I scribbled something on my clipboard.

  “Okay.” I stepped back, realizing then that I was vehemently trying to avoid touching him. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. In fact, I was so terrified of it because it actually wasn’t the wrong idea at all. It was the right idea. The terrible, right idea.

  “So, now I have to measure your height.”

  “Okay.” He said as he stepped down from the scale and stood against the wall. The impish grin on his face made me giggle.

  I loved the juxtaposition of this, big tall guy, an obvious hunk, having his height measured by someone like me, like he was a little child. It made him seem even hotter, if that were at all possible. I dropped the platform on the crown of his head and peered at the number. I had to get real close to get an accurate reading. I was leaning so close to him that I could practically feel his breath on my neck. I had a feeling he was getting an eye full of my cleavage.

  I liked it.

  “6’4”.” I scribbled that down on my pad as well. “So, if you could sit on my table for a second…”

  “Sure.”

  The table whined, the sound accompanied by the crunch of the paper as he got comfortable. In the silence that followed while I was preparing my thermometer, I felt pressured to say something. “So how long did you end up staying at that party?”

  There was a pause, and then, “Not long. There wasn’t much to entertain me after you
left.”

  I gulped, wishing I hadn’t had that third cup of coffee. My hands were fumbling around while I tried to get that plastic slip on the thermometer. God, why did he have to affect me so much? I could feel him in the atmosphere, his breath affecting me. “Sorry about that.” I stepped in front of him. Because of how long his legs were, I couldn't stand at the foot of the bed. I had to step around the side. I saw his eyes follow me as I moved.

  “Why did you leave?” He asked.

  I jabbed the thermometer in his mouth. It was only when he winced that I realized how hard I had been. “I just…” I pressed the button and waited for the temperature to set., “I dunno. I was tired, I guess.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Tired?”

  My eyes widened in an attempt to overcome his skepticism with fake earnesty. “98.1” I put the thermometer down and picked up my stethoscope. This concluded the part of the examination where I could get away with not touching him. “Yes. It was a long day.”

  “Well, I wished you wouldn’t have left me there at that bar. I looked like an ass.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you so worried about how you look?”

  “When you’re constantly in the public eye, it becomes a hard-learned habit.”

  I rolled my eyes. This was the classic rich boy banter. I put the stethoscope around my neck. “That must be so hard.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Usually, I try to be in the company of people I like.”

  “Are you trying to say you like me Mr. Blackwood?”

  “Call me Chet.”

  I allowed myself to make real eye contact for the first time in the entire examination. I couldn’t deny that I was starting to feel something. I mean really feel something. It was maddening the way my heart fluttered in his gaze. “Okay, Chet. Why do you like me?”

  He shrugged. “You seem… removed. You’re the first person in this position who doesn’t seem to care that you’re working for the Dallas Cowboys.”

  I smiled. “Humans are humans. It shouldn’t matter what they do for a living. They should get the same care… they deserve it.”

  He nodded, furrowing his brow. “I see you have some opinions about this business.”

  “If, by business, you mean the NFL, then yes. Who doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know. That’s actually a little surprising. People usually don’t think about what goes on behind the scenes. They just care about what they’re seeing, and if it makes them happy.”

  “I guess you’re right. It’s an unfortunate truth.” I was looking for a good moment to shut him up so that I could check his chest sounds, but I was just enjoying our conversation so much, I didn’t want it to end, let alone the examination as a whole.

  “Why unfortunate?”

  “I just think the players should be taken better care of.”

  He scoffed. “They’re paid millions of dollars.”

  I shot him a look. “That’s obviously not what I meant.”

  He froze. “Well, you’re the doctor. So, I guess you’re right. I dunno. It’s just the way things have always been done. I don’t know what the specifics are. I’ve only been in this job a month now.”

  I blinked, feeling stupid. I forgot I was talking to someone who just lost his dad and inherited a multi-billion dollar company. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lecture you.”

  He shook his head. “No, no. I like it. It’s refreshing. You’d be surprised how lonely being surrounded by ass-kissers can be.”

  I nodded. “Well, I guess I can’t relate.”

  He chuckled. “Please. You’re terrifying. You take charge of every room you’re in.”

  I furrowed my brow. No one had ever said something like that to me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  But he touched my arm then, and everything stopped. “Yes, you do. You’re just too afraid to admit it.”

  I looked at him, taking in his earnest, green eyes; his lips that were ever-so-slightly parted, the red undertones in his hair. I gazed down at him, feeling like the luckiest girl alive to be caught in his gaze; forgetting everything else that exists in the world.

  There was a click as the door opened. Benson, one of the players and the last physical of my day stepped in. “Oh, shit. Blackwood….” He mumbled.

  “Just a minute-”

  “No don’t worry-”

  We both said at the same time.

  But he slammed the door.

  I stepped back, shaken out of my daze.

  Chet

  I took a sip of my black coffee, letting the liquid burn down my throat and land in my stomach, the energy juice making my bones jitter. I gazed across the breakfast table at my mother, whose head was buried in this morning’s new york times. I stared at the way her thin fingers clutched the mess of papers, those perfectly manicured nails. She put the paper down and took another bite of her eggs benedict. I got a good look at the bags under her eyes and the way she tried to cover it up with makeup. She looked so taken care of and yet so empty inside.

  I wished I knew a way to talk to her, about anything. But we had never been a close family when my father was alive, and his death wasn’t going to be the magical glue that fixed it. “How is the tribune?” I asked, referring to the paper she edited.

  She locked eyes with me, that grey stare always making me feel like she knew what I was hiding, even if I wasn’t even hiding anything. “Nothing to report. We just hired a new editor for our politics division. There’s a lot to report in Texas. Can’t complain.”

  I nodded and took another bite of my breakfast, slurping the sauce off the knife.

  She made a face. “Oh God, Chet. Must you act like a dog at the table?”

  I rolled my eyes, shifting my gaze through the glass of this sunroom to the large, green, expansive lawn. I cocked my head to the side. Everything was so big and empty. “Anything interesting in the paper?”

  Being around my mom ever since my father died was like trying to force two magnets with like charges together. There was something in between us, an elephant in the room, and my mother was determined to ignore it.

  She picked up her paper again. “Heather was asking about you.”

  I made a face at the mention of my childhood crush, as well as the subject of a very short, very ill-advised relationship in the summer between high school and college. “How did you even run into her?”

  “She’s on the legal team for your fathers- … your company.” She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you don’t run into her more.”

  “I’m sorry, are you upset about the way I’m running the company?” I set my jaw. It was so easy for me to go from wanting to hug my mom to want to ring her neck in a matter of minutes.

  “No. It’s more the way you’re running your life.”

  I gulped down the rest of my coffee. “Oh please, what else is new.”

  My mom ignored that. There was clearly a point she was trying to make, and she wasn’t going to let anything derail her getting there. That’s what being in a room with that woman was like. “I think you two should talk more.”

  “Is there a lawsuit hanging in the air?”

  My mother’s eyes went ice cold. She only broke her gaze with me to take a sip of her coffee. “I don’t find that funny.”

  “Fine.”

  “I just think you should think more about your future. That’s all. You and Heather had such a cute flirtation when you were kids. And now that you’re settled in this position, you should maybe consider picking that back up.”

  I tried to be amused at the fact that my mother was playing matchmaker. “But I’m not settled in my position at all.”

  My mother ignored that too. “Heather is so great because she’s independent. She won’t distract you from your work. She can fend for herself, and she has class.”

  “Jesus. Is this you talking or her?” The belligerent campaigning made me want to hurl.

  “Does it matter?”

  What kind of woman tries to g
et a man by going through his mom? “Are you trying to set us up on a date or convince me to propose?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “A little of both.”

  It was a joke. Lord knew this was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wanted this conversation to end, once and for all. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Why don’t you take her to the game this Sunday?”

  I nodded. It was simple enough. All I had to do was invite her to sit in the box with me and done. She would hang out, have a couple of drinks. We could catch up, maybe share some fond, childhood stories and that could be that. A smile played on my lips as I thought of the possibility of simply being her friend. Maybe my mom was up playing this whole thing just to get me into action, and Heather wasn’t all that interested. It would be nice to have someone from my past to talk to.

  By the time I had made it through the rest of my day, I was almost looking forward to seeing Heather again. It was only as I powered my desk-top down and started closing up my office for the day that I realized the next Sunday would be the day I was going to see Dahlia again too. The conversation we had shared when I crashed her physicals the other day was still fresh in my mind. It was evident that she was into me, but obvious that she wasn’t telling me something, too. She was holding something back, and it irritates me.

  I bit my lip at the memory of her just inches away from me, her sexy, almond eyes gazing right up at me, her lips pursed in concentration as she tried to get my height down. I sunk back down in my chair, my cock hardening at the thought of those breasts in my face, the perfect, round things. I imagined reaching down and grabbing them, burying my face in them.

  My cock hardened even more....

  Then I thought about those lips, those delicate fingers, that deft mind of hers. I wanted to spend more time with her, wanted to find out what was going on in that head, what made her tick. By the time I was standing in my box, ten minutes before the start of the game, I wished like hell that Dahlia would walk through that door instead of Heather.

  It was a clear, hot, Sunday, the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky as I made myself an old-fashioned at the small drink counter, ignoring the bartender’s confused expression. I needed to keep my hands busy.