by Sarah Smith
Mr. Nichols showed him the computer lab, which had thirty computers in it and was for all 250 students to use. Samwell shook his head. “Ah, Mr. Nichols. I can see what this school requires the most.”
Mr. Nichols nodded. “We have incredible teachers here who work together to share, but I know our students need more technology in their education. We’ve been working to put that into the budget and were hoping to add more computers next year.”
“After you discuss with the powers that be, create a list, within reason, of what you’d like for the school. I think my group and I can help you in this matter,” Samwell said, nodding at Mr. Nichols.
Mr. Nichols clapped his hand together. “Oh, Mr. Graffton, you have no idea how wonderful this is! How did you hear of our little school?”
“I have my sources.” Samwell smiled and winked at the principal. “All I ask is that any monies that might be included are used directly for the students and the improvement of their education.”
“Oh of course! We would create a spreadsheet to account for every dime. Required by the state, you know,” Mr. Nichols gushed. “I was wondering, when it’s time to make the donation, would you and your fellow players be willing to speak to our students? They love it so much when we have special guests.”
“I would be thrilled to speak to the students. I have a couple pals who would come as well,” Samwell assured him. “We’ll even sign some posters to give out.”
“You will make their year, Mr. Graffton!” Mr. Nichols told him.
As they had walked down the hallways, several teachers had poked their heads out and, eyes wide, had recognized him. None ventured forth to speak to him, though. Samwell had always hated that part of fame: people either gushed all over him or wouldn’t speak to him at all. That was one of the reasons he liked Lindsay so much; she treated him like a normal person.
At the end of the hallway, Samwell saw a door with Ms. Rice over the top—Lindsay’s room. He turned to Mr. Nichols, who had been telling him about the student body in general. He pointed to the door and quietly asked, “Is that Lindsay Rice’s room?”
Mr. Nichols looked surprised as he glanced down at the doorway. “Why, yes. How do you know Lindsay?”
“Oh, we go way back. I had no idea she worked here,” he lied smoothly. He still didn’t want Lindsay to know he was a pro baller, so he had to get rid of the principal if he was going to keep the secret. Of course, she’d know once she went out with him, if he could convince her to go. “I’d love to surprise her.”
“Of course! She’ll be so thrilled to see an old friend,” Mr. Nichols said. He had understood Samwell’s intention of seeing her alone. He excused himself. “I’m sure Lindsay can show you back to the front.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nichols. Send that list over as soon as you can, and we’ll get on it,” Samwell promised. He turned and walked the rest of the way to her room. He paused at the doorway and watched her. She looked different in her teacher attire. He hadn’t known she wore glasses, and although she was in jeans since it was a workday, she looked professional in her button up pale blue shirt. Her hair was in a loose bun at the top of her head, and she wore no makeup. He liked her better this way: simple, beautiful, and breathtaking.
A frown played across her face as she focused on the papers in front of her. She reached for a glass of what looked like iced tea and sipped on the straw. Samwell watched as her mouth pursed around the straw, mesmerized by that simple action. Before he lost control of himself, he rapped lightly on the door.
Lindsay’s head jerked up, and she nearly spilled her tea. She caught it just in time and set it right before turning her attention to the door. Her eyes widened when she saw Samwell, the person who had just been in her thoughts. She rose and smiled, walking toward him with her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Hi, Samwell. Pardon my rudeness, but what the heck are you doing here?” she said with a little laugh. She held her hand out automatically to shake his as if he were a parent there for a conference with her.
Samwell smiled. He liked her. “Well, Ms. Rice, I am here to see you.”
Lindsay tilted her head playfully at him. “Oh really? And do I have your child in my class, sir?”
“No, but I hope my kid’s teacher is as pretty as you,” Samwell said with a wink.
Lindsay laughed. “Always a charmer.”
“Well, I’m certainly trying to charm you, Ms. Rice,” Samwell replied.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Stop calling me that, goofy. It’s weird.” Now he laughed. “So, seriously, Samwell, what are you doing here?”
He admired her straightforward question. He didn’t belong at her school for any logical reason she could think of, so she asked. “Actually, I’m with a charity group. We donate school supplies and needed technology to schools.”
Her eyes widened and her smile returned. “Really?” She gestured around her. “Well, while we certainly could use some improvements in technology here, we aren’t anywhere near the poorest district in Miami. Why this school?”
“Because you’re here,” he told her simply. She stared at him, so he lifted his hands defensively. “Ok, that sounded a little stalkerish, but I knew you must teach in one of the lower income schools if you had to work a second job. So I did a little research, and your school really is one of the lowest income schools in the district.”
“You work fast, Samwell,” she replied, her eyes narrowed. “It’s really sweet that you would help out students. But please don’t tell anyone you chose this school because of me.”
“I doubt anyone will ask, but I won’t.” He smiled at her, and her tension ebbed. He walked over to her desk and planted himself on the corner, intending to stay until she agreed on that date. She followed him and sat down in her chair, looking up at him. “So, since we’re both standing here and this isn’t a job where you’ll get fired for going out with me, let’s talk about that date.”
She giggled prettily, and he felt his heart beat a little harder. She shook her head at him. “Good night, you never quit.”
“I’m very persistent. In fact, I’ve pretty much decided I’m going to sit right here on the corner of this desk until you agree to go out with me.” He patted the desk. “It’s somewhat comfortable. I can make it.”
“Samwell. . .”
“Oh, I do like the way you say my name,” he said with a whistle to emphasize his point.
Lindsay rolled her eyes at him. “Samwell, we’ve been through this. I’ll lose my job at the Kingfish Club if I get caught dating a patron. And since you’re there all the time, I wouldn’t be able to hide it.”
“Couldn’t hide how much you like me?” he asked with a grin.
“Actually, I was thinking you wouldn’t be able to hide how much you like me,” she replied, pointing at him and then at herself. “But that is beside the point. I can’t date you because I do need that job.”
Samwell noticed her face reddened just a little when she said that she needed the job. She obviously didn’t like the fact that she had to work a second job, but he thought it was honorable. But right this second was not the time to divulge that information.
“All right, Lindsay, I’ll make you a deal,” Samwell said. “I will stop going to the Kingfish Club. I will no longer be a patron. Now will you go out with me?”
Lindsay narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re going to give up your membership at the club so I’ll go on a date with you? What if it doesn’t work out?”
“I like you. A lot. I think the better we know each other, the more I’ll grow to like you.” He could sense her disbelief. “Listen, I’m not just trying to get into your pants. I promise. There’s something about you. And if you’ll go on a date with me, I bet you’ll feel the same way.”
His words were sweet and sincere, as far as Lindsay could tell. And she had always liked him, since the first time she’d waited on him at the club. He was funny, flirtatious, and fine. If she was being honest with herself, the only reason she
had refused to go out with him was because he was a patron at the club. She looked up at him, and he grinned down at her and winked. She looked down again. When she turned back to him, he gave her the big, sad puppy dog eyes.
“Oh wow. You do that well,” she chuckled.
“What’s that?”
“Looking all cute and sweet so I’ll give you your way. You’re as bad as a student,” she told him.
“I’ll bring you an apple if you’ll go out with me,” he said in a high-pitched voice.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so goofy!” Her laughter was music to his ears.
“Good. Go out with me.”
She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll go out with you.”
Samwell clapped his hands together, put them under his chin, and said, “Yay! She likes me!”
Lindsay threw her head back and laughed, then playfully slapped his leg as she rose. “Stop it, you weirdo. When are we going out?”
“Can you go tonight? I know it’s short notice, but I’m scared if I wait you’ll change your mind.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not going to back out. But tonight is fine. What time and what should I wear?”
Again the straightforwardness. He smiled. “Eight o’clock. And wear something pretty. I’m taking you to a fancy dinner.” He winked.
She shook her head at him. “Eight is perfect. Now get out of here so I can finish my work. I don’t want any homework this weekend.”
“Yes ma’am.” He grabbed a pack of sticky notes and wrote his number on it. “Text me in a bit so I have your number. Send me your address.” She picked it up and smiled at him. “What?”
“Your handwriting is atrocious. Fortunately, I have experience in reading bad handwriting.” She gestured to the papers she was grading and winked at him.
“Hmmm. Maybe I don’t like you as much as I thought,” he murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. When she raised an eyebrow, he said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll still take you out.”
“Whatever, goofy. I’ll send you my address in a few.”
“See you tonight, beautiful.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Hey, Brian, come spot me,” Samwell called across the gym as he set the weights on the bar.
Brian sauntered over in athletic shorts the same color as Samwell’s and Tim’s. When you worked for a pro-athlete, your always wear your team colors when working out. And if you were dressed casually, you wore a team shirt just in case paparazzi snapped your picture.
“I thought today was leg day,” Brian commented as he watched Samwell lay down on the bench and prepare to lift the massive amount of weight. Brian just hoped he was strong enough to spot him should he need the help.
“I’m a little anxious today, filled with energy. So I’m adding a little chest and arms.”
Brian lifted an eyebrow as Samwell lifted the bar. He watched as his friend and the quarterback of his team completed three sets of fifteen, his forehead beading with sweat. His biceps bulged with muscle and effort; even his leg muscles clenched as he pushed the bar up. Samwell had the typical quarterback’s body: big shoulders, muscular chest, slim waist, and legs that could crush a person’s head. Samwell did not have an ounce of fat on his body, even though he ate like a teenage boy. But that’s what you get when you work out for two or three hours every day except Sundays, even during the off season.
Brian waited until he was finished with his last set before speaking to him again. “What do you have to be anxious about? Season doesn’t start for a few months.”
Samwell rolled his eyes. “You do know there are other things out there besides football?”
Brian shrugged. “Not in my world. So what’s going on?”
Samwell put the weights away as he spoke, as it felt better to move while he talked. “I finally talked that girl from the Kingfish Club into going on a date with me.”
Brian stared at him momentarily as he lay on a mat and began his sit-up sets. “You mean to tell me you’re nervous about a date? With a woman? What the hell is wrong with you, man?”
Samwell laughed a little, interrupting his sit-ups. He reclined on the floor while responding. “I don’t know, man. There’s something about this woman.”
“What woman?” Tim, one of the linebackers on the team, had walked in and heard the last of their conversation.
Samwell rolled his eyes and sat up. “I have a date tonight with the girl from the Kingfish Club.”
“Finally. I still can’t believe she kept telling you no. Now, if I’d asked her out, we’d be a permanent item by now,” Tim boasted.
“Speaking of permanent, how’s Rose?” Samwell asked, changing the subject.
Tim shrugged. “She’s good.”
“That’s a bit noncommittal,” Brian commented with a look at Samwell.
“So is she, if you know what I mean,” Tim said, a sad look on his face.
“Really? I thought she was ready to make things official,” Samwell said, a question in his tone.
“She’s just concerned about being the wife of a ball player, you know. It’s a life that can be difficult for a girl who’s never been around it,” Tim said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, the paparazzi, the women throwing themselves at us, the fame. All that,” Tim said.
Brian cleared his throat uncomfortably. “This conversation is a little too deep for gym talk, fellas. Let’s talk about hot chicks or cars or baseball or something.”
Samwell and Tim laughed. “You’re right,” Tim said. “That’s talk we should have over beers in front of a huge TV with the game on.”
“Or not at all,” Brian mumbled gruffly, frowning. He had never been comfortable with personal chitchat. “You two need to get back to work. I need my players in top shape.”
“Yes sir,” Samwell said with a mock salute. Tim laughed and returned to the treadmill, where he’d draped his towel so he could begin his cardio.
Samwell laid back down on the mat and restarted his sit-up sets. He frowned as he counted, his thoughts on Lindsay and her reaction to the lifestyle. Eventually, she would find out he was a professional football player. He had planned to tell her tonight, but now he questioned if maybe he should wait until their next date. He debated with himself. If she found out another way, it would be worse than if he told her outright. Ok, he told himself, I’ll find the right moment tonight.
He’d lost count as his thoughts ran over each other. He looked around. Brian and Tim were busy with their own workout and hadn’t been paying attention to him. He started a new set, even though he was pretty sure he’d only done half of the first. He’d make it up later.
***
Lindsay and Abbie had searched like mad through both their closets for an appropriate outfit for Lindsay’s date with Samwell. Lindsay was a ball of nerves, discarding outfit after outfit until she finally decided on the second dress she’d pulled out of her closet. Abbie agreed; the standard little black dress with some killer heels and a silver clutch would be perfect no matter where Samwell planned to take her.
“Yeah, he said somewhere ‘fancy,’” Lindsay told her again, using her fingers to make air quotes. “His version of fancy is probably way more fancy than my version.”
“Who cares? So he’s got money. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he wasn’t interested,” Abbie reminded her again. “Don’t worry, you’re going to look ‘fancy’ once we finish your hair and makeup.”
“I just hope he doesn’t take me out on the water. Hair ruined in less than five seconds,” Lindsay joked, snapping her fingers.
“Not the way I’m fixing it,” Abbie assured her.
“Oh my gosh, Abbie, what would I do without you?”
“Look like a homeless person?” Abbie replied, pulling the straightener through a section of Lindsay’s hair and immediately spraying it with a sweet smelling concoction that she said would help her hair stay straight without being hard.
Lindsay l
aughed. “I don’t know about homeless, but it certainly wouldn’t be pretty. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Oh honey, when I’m done with you, he won’t be able to resist you,” Abbie swore. “Your makeup will be on point. Your hair will look like you spent the day at the salon, and with that killer body of yours, he’ll be drooling.”
Lindsay looked in the mirror as Abbie continued her ministrations, wondering if she really wanted Samwell to drool. She liked him, sure, but she wasn’t looking for anything like a serious relationship. She had to get her life straight before she brought somebody else into it. She closed her eyes and a vision of Samwell swam in the forefront of her mind. Gosh, he was good looking, she mused. She tilted her head slightly as she imagined him.
“Hey!” Abbie squeaked. “Lindsay, stop moving or I’m going to end up burning you.”
“Sorry,” Lindsay said, a secret little smile on her face.
Abbie lifted an eyebrow, pausing with the straightener aloft. “What’s that little smile all about?”
“Nothing.”
Abbie giggled and continued fixing Lindsay’s hair. “Whatever, honey. Just as long as I get full details when you get home tonight. If you come home tonight.”
“Abbie! You know I’m not like that,” Lindsay admonished.
“I know, I know, I was teasing.” Abbie looked at her hair. “Almost finished with your hair. Get ready for makeup!”
“Don’t get crazy,” Lindsay reminded her.
Abbie just rolled her eyes. “Stop worrying.”
***
At precisely eight o’clock, a knock sounded on the door. Abbie had left twenty minutes earlier to avoid the awkward roommate meet and greet, so Lindsay hurried to the door, adjusting the strap on her left heel as she did. “Coming!”
Lindsay opened the door, and Samwell’s eyes widened. He whistled low. “Wow, Lindsay. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.”