I set my bag on the floor and collapse on the couch, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in my limbs. “I’m so tired.”
“Why, hmmm?” The look Hayden sends my way tells me she’s not going to let this go. She definitely suspects I’ve been up to something. “Where did you disappear off to last night?”
I go over the events from last evening. The call Eli received about his mom. How we went to the hospital and she was injured but nothing too serious. I don’t mention the potential drunk driving charge. Why bring that up when it might not even happen?
“Ellie didn’t mention anything to you guys?” I ask them. “I texted her after we left to let her know.”
“No. But she disappeared with Jackson eventually too so…” Gracie shrugs. “Everyone was up to something except for me.”
“I was at the hospital,” I stress.
“All night?” Hayden asks.
“Eventually we went back to Eli’s apartment.”
“Is that why you’re dressed like that?” When I frown, she laughs. “Like a hobo wearing her boyfriend’s old sweatshirt and socks and some ratty-ass leggings he dug out of the bottom of his closet that you owned like…three years ago?”
I burst out laughing. “You pretty much nailed it.” I kick out my foot toward Gracie, waving the Adidas slides. “These belong to you. Snagged them out of Caleb’s room.”
Gracie shakes her head. “Those are my ‘I have nothing else to wear on my feet’ shoes.”
“They’ve worked out pretty well. And this is why I went shopping earlier. I needed something to wear tonight to the game.”
Eli mentioned he’d leave tickets for me at will call.
Can’t wait to watch him play again.
Gracie snatches up the bag and peeks inside, pulling out a blue and green printed thong. “Nice,” she says, twirling them on her finger. “Wearing them for Eli later?”
“Why do you need new panties, hmm?” Hayden asks. “I’m guessing you’re not wearing any at the moment.”
“No bra either,” I confirm with a laugh. “Might’ve had an—encounter or two with Eli last night. Well, more like the middle of the night.”
And earlier this morning. Oh and right before we left the apartment.
“Are you two back together or what?” Gracie asks.
“We are.” I bite my lower lip. “I mean, it’s not official or anything. We haven’t labeled our relationship yet.”
Hayden’s brows shoot up. “I would say if you two are having sex, you’re back together.”
“Unless it’s hate sex, which can be fun,” Gracie adds.
I think of the night in the back seat of his car. That was definitely pent-up, I want you but I hate you sex.
“He told me he loved me,” I confess.
“When he was inside you?”
“Gracie!” Hayden yells.
Gracie shrugs. “Just asking. That’s when they tend to say it the most.”
“Yes,” I admit. “That’s exactly how it happened.”
“Ugh, men.” Gracie shakes her head.
“You’re not allowed to be mad at men in general. You’re the one in a solid relationship with the reformed horn dog,” Hayden tells her best friend.
“We’re not talking about Caleb and me,” Gracie says, her gaze on mine and her cheeks the faintest pink. “We’re talking about you and Eli. Just—be careful, my friend. Eli is a great guy. I adore him, but he’s also impulsive. I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“He won’t. I know what I’m doing when it comes to Eli,” I say assuredly.
Her words of warning linger in my brain as we start to get ready, though. I take a quick shower and change into all-new clothes, right down to the thong and a new bralette. I even bought shoes—a pair of new slip-on black Vans, which I’ve been wanting to replace my old ones for a while.
“You’re not wearing Bulldog gear,” Gracie chastises when she sees me in my jeans and new black sweater.
“I refuse to buy a new team T-shirt or sweatshirt when I have so many at home,” I say, as I walk up to the standing mirror sitting in the corner of Hayden’s bedroom. “I like my fit. I’ll wear this sweater on repeat all through winter.”
“It’s cute,” Hayden agrees, coming up behind me. She’s got on a white Bulldog sweatshirt and jeans, her hair pulled into a high pony. She’s grown it out over the last year and it falls past her shoulders now.
“More for Tony to grab,” she joked with us, which made me laugh.
And blush.
I think about it again. Eli has pulled my hair a few times during sex, but never hard enough to really hurt.
That sounds kind of fun.
Any type of experimental sex with Eli sounds fun. I feel much bolder with him this time around. He really enjoyed that blow job earlier this morning. Again, he’s all about the visual. I could put on a little show for him tonight, if he’s not too tired.
I could ask him to do a few things with me. To me. He might be interested.
Knowing Eli, he’ll be extremely interested.
By the time we make it over to the stadium, the first quarter of the game has already started. Considering we have seats in the reserved section for the girlfriends and wives—crazy that some of the members of the team are married, but a few of them already are—we don’t have to worry about where we sit, and we always have great seats.
We grab some snacks and something to drink, since none of us have eaten much today. Once we’re settled in our seats, I immediately find Eli on the field, and I can tell, even from the distance, that he’s not happy.
My heart sinks and my appetite disappears. An unhappy Eli on the field means an unhappy and potentially angry Eli off the field too. And that’s the worst. I’ve dealt with his moods before. I was almost glad I wasn’t around much last season—his worst season by far. He was constantly beating himself up.
The team gets into position, Eli getting ready to throw the ball, and I notice his frenzied movements. As if he doesn’t know who to throw to. Diego is trying to catch his attention, but he’s also being blocked by a big dude from the other team.
Eli throws the ball and it sails high into the sky, landing…
In that big dude’s equally big hands.
“Oh shit!” Gracie exclaims, clapping a hand over her mouth when she catches me looking at her.
His disappointment is palpable. He’s mentally beating himself up. And it’s like this the entirety of the game. At halftime, I have high hopes he can readjust and get his head back into the game.
But it doesn’t work. And at one point early in the third quarter, I swear it looks like he’s about to get into a fight with…Diego?
What the hell?
My mood—as well as my friends’—becomes more and more somber. We toss most of the food we bought, too upset to eat it. By the time we’re nearing the end of the fourth quarter, I’m completely discouraged.
We’re going to lose. The second loss of the season—and it’s at home.
I’m sure Eli is devastated.
Somehow, during the final seconds of the game, our boys are able to drive the ball down the field, but unable to score a touchdown. They’re close enough for a field goal, which the kicker makes.
Now we’re tied.
Holy shit.
“We’re going into overtime,” Hayden says. “Oh my God, I hope we can win.”
I say nothing. It’s like I can’t. I’m too choked up and filled with worry. We must win.
We have to.
The game ends with the score tied, and after a few minutes, the team captains walk out onto the field for the coin toss. I watch Eli and Tony walk out together, my chest expanding with pride. Hayden reaches out and grips my hand, not saying a word, but I can tell she’s nervous.
So am I.
We win the coin toss and they choose the opposing team to receive first. Perfect. I sit perched on the edge of my seat, my entire body tense as I watch our defense play. Gracie is rowdy, constan
tly screaming for Caleb, which makes me and Hayden laugh, but it’s nervous laughter. We can’t fully get into it.
We’re both too stressed out.
The other team gets a field goal, which devastates me. If our boys can’t score, they’ll lose. The pressure just turned up even more, and from what I’ve seen today, Eli isn’t handling it well.
At all.
“He did this last week,” Gracie announces, causing both Hayden and me to look at her.
“Who did what?” Hayden asks.
“Eli. At practice though. He messed up again and again and their coaches pulled him off the field. They had the second-string quarterback play for a while, and Caleb said he was pretty good.” Gracie nods toward the field. “That’s why they probably had him play earlier. Just to test him out.”
“They usually never do that sort of thing when they’re losing and they’re only in the third quarter,” I say, busting out some of my coach’s daughter knowledge.
“True that,” Hayden says with a nod.
They go out on the field and…I don’t see number one out there.
“Oh, Hatfield went out,” Gracie says, her voice full of disappointment.
My gaze frantic, I spot Eli on the sidelines, his helmet off, his expression one of bitter disappointment as he stands next to Caleb, their gazes on the field.
I’m dying to know what happened. But then again…
I’d rather not know anything at all.
Twenty-Seven
Eli
We lost. By a mother fuckin’ field goal.
I told Coach Harris to let me out on that field, but he wouldn’t hear it. Said the pressure was too much and it would get to me. He was afraid I’d choke. Worse, I think he believed I’d choke so badly that I’d throw an interception and let the other team score. Like he’s lost all faith in my ass, all because of one bad performance.
I guess that’s all it takes to ruin everything.
Marshall does his best, as does the rest of the team, but they can’t manage to get the ball down the field. They barely get it close enough for a field-goal attempt, but they try anyway, and the kicker misses it. It was too far anyway and would’ve broken a record if he’d made it, so no surprise he didn’t.
Can’t believe we fucking lost. So fucking frustrating. I can’t blame anyone else for the loss either. I sucked ass out on the field today and I don’t know what went wrong. I haven’t seen our fans this disappointed since last season. We were on a winning streak. I was their golden boy.
Now I’m an utter failure.
I storm off the field as fast as I can, the moment the clock turns zero, not wanting to stick around and talk to the media. I hear coaching staff yelling my name as I make my escape, but I don’t look back or respond. I know what they want. Me to stand out there and look grim while talking about missed opportunities and coming back stronger next week.
Fuck that. I’d rather say nothing at all.
The rest of the team stays out there for a while longer, I’m sure earning the approval of Coach, while I’m in the locker room taking a shower, eager to get the fuck out of here.
No luck though. The second I walk out of the showers with a towel around me, there’s Coach, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as he contemplates me.
“You left.”
“What was I supposed to say? Sorry I fucked up, better luck next week?” I go to walk by him, but he steps in my way, blocking me. “I know you wanted me to talk to reporters. I’m afraid I would’ve said something shitty and made it worse.”
He nods, respecting my explanation, only because he knows it’s true. I went off a few times last season and made an ass of myself. “You still should have talked to them. A couple of losses in the seasons won’t ruin your career, Bennett.”
A sigh leaves me. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
“I know. Both on the field and off. Heard about you and your girl getting back together.” He raises his brows. “A coincidence?”
“No,” I spit out. Anger rises within me and I tamp it down. I don’t want him blaming Ava for any of this—even though I’ve blamed her for some of it. Funny how every time I have sex with her, my concentration goes to shit.
“You can’t let the personal stuff get in your head and mess with your game,” Harris says, his voice lowering, his gaze serious. “Don’t you want to be in the NFL?”
I nod. Of course I do. He knows this.
“Then don’t let your emotions spill onto the field. From what I’ve seen, you’ve really improved this season compared to last and your focus is razor sharp—until today. Straighten up, Bennett. You’ve got this. You’ve had it all season, every game day. We’re so close to the end goal. Don’t get distracted now,” he continues.
“Yeah, I know. Listen, it’s been a rough twenty-four hours. Some stuff is happening with my mom,” I admit. “She got in a car wreck last night.”
“Oh no. Is she all right?” I see the concern etched in his face, and it’s reassuring. He’s a good guy. Hard on us sometimes, especially me, but he means well. And I think I need someone to be hard on me sometimes to keep me in line.
“She’s good. I think. I need to call her.” I haven’t talked to anyone in hours. I have no idea how it went with Ava getting her. I didn’t even bother checking my phone when I got in the locker room, I was too intent on getting the hell out of here.
“Definitely check up on her, she’s your mom. And let me know what’s going on. But—maybe ease up on the relationship stuff, you know what I mean?” He sends me a look and I frown. “I don’t mean to get in your personal business, son, but I have to when it’s impacting our team. Seems to me you were playing at your best when you were single. And now you’re back with that girl who broke your heart and you’re a mess. Think about that.”
Coach walks away before I can protest or argue, and his words stay with me. Sink into my brain. Seep into my bones.
I don’t like what he’s saying, but I can’t deny it either.
Coach is right. If I want to get into the NFL, I need to stay focused. I need this for my future—my future with Ava. Everything I’m doing right now is for her.
For us.
She’ll understand if I need to focus on football for the next few weeks. It’ll be tough, but worth it in the end. Especially if I get drafted. Damn, if that happens…
My future with Ava is set.
And that’s all I want. My girl by my side, forever. Loving her and taking care of her in the best way I can.
As I start getting dressed, the team trickles in, all of them looking as dejected as I feel. I offer them encouraging comments and they do the same for me, not a one of them calling me out.
I’m waiting for that to come from my best friends. Those fuckers won’t hold back.
After tugging on my shirt, I finally check my phone and find a bunch of text messages, mostly from Ava and my mother and…Ryan?
Ava: Your brother showed up to the hospital. I kind of chewed him out, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t restrain myself. I’m glad he came though. Your mother was glad too.
Mom: Ryan showed up and brought me home! He said he’s going to stay for as long as I need him, the sweetheart. Call me when you can. Good luck on your game. Love you.
Ryan: I’m with Mom and took her home. She wanted me to pour her a glass of wine but I wouldn’t do it. I think her problem is worse than she’s letting on. Text me when you get this message.
I roll my eyes at my brother’s text. No shit, Sherlock is what I want to respond with, but I don’t.
I’ll call him in a few. I need to be in a certain mood when I deal with him and now is not it.
Ava: I’m at the game. Hopefully we can meet up after. Gracie can take me home if you’re too tired to drive.
She sends me a string of red hearts and my own heart throbs, hating that she witnessed my shitty gameplay.
I feel like a failure at all the things. Football. School. Family. Ava.
All of it.
Why can’t I have it all? Why can’t shit go right for once?
“Hey.”
I turn at the sound of Caleb’s voice, which is more subdued than I think I’ve ever heard it. He’s full of as much bravado as me most of the time. But when I see his somber expression, and note the matching expressions on Tony and Diego as they stop just behind him, all three of them watching me, I realize they feel bad. Not just for themselves, but also for me.
They’re worried about me.
Because they give a shit—and that means a lot.
“You doing okay?” Tony asks.
I nod, working my damnedest to keep a brave face. “Yeah. Sucked, but what’s two losses, right?”
“We’ll kick ass next week,” Diego says fiercely.
“Hell yeah, we will,” Caleb adds.
I nod, appreciating their faith in me. In us. “We’ll do great. Work harder at practice.”
“It’s an away game, but we always beat San Jose,” Diego says. “And at least it’s not too far.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Want to get the fuck out of here?” Caleb asks me. “I rode with Gracie, but she said she wanted to get home after the game.”
“Ava dropped me off,” I admit. “She still has my car.”
“Perfect. She could leave with Gracie. Unless she’s staying the night with you?” He raises his brows.
She shouldn’t. I should send her pretty ass back to her parents’ house, and we can reconnect later.
Like at the end of the football season?
I banish the thought.
But it sticks with me still as my friends talk and I mostly listen. As we exit the locker room and head for the place where we always end up meeting up with the girls, I remember how I used to depart before they’d get to the girls, when I was broken up with Ava, and seeing them all greet their boyfriends made me sad. Made me miss her.
Now she’s probably there waiting for me and I almost dread seeing her. I mean, I want to, but I also think…
Maybe we should take it slow—like really slow until the end of the season. I’m willing to do just about anything to stay on track and finish out the season on top. Everyone’s right, another blip, another loss isn’t going to ruin everything, but what if this keeps up? I stay with Ava, keep having sex with her and keep having shit practices and lose more games. Lose my shot at the chance to win a bowl.
The Senior (College Years Book 4) Page 22