Dad reaches us as Mom steps back. He holds out his hand to shake mine before pulling me into a hug too, slapping my back. “How are you, son? Feeling good?”
“A little nervous,” I admit. The game isn’t until later today, but I’ve been thinking of it since I woke up for my workout. I don’t have many game day rituals—the simpler things are, the better—but I can’t help feeling the nerves in my gut. If we win today, we keep the perfect record we’ve been carrying this season. Beyond that, a win will help prove to everyone that I made the right decision, leaving LSU for McKee as a senior.
Every single game I play this season is an audition for two things: the Heisman Trophy and the NFL draft. While the draft won’t be until the spring, leaving me the full course of the season to impress my potential future bosses, the Heisman is awarded in December, before the college bowl games. I haven’t allowed myself to think about it too much, but nominations will be coming soon, and I know I’m part of the conversation. Another Heisman winner? My father, who is looking at me with pride in his serious eyes. Cooper, Izzy, and I all have his blue eyes and dark hair. My mother always teases that if a girl ever wants to know what Cooper and I will look like when we’re older, she should just check out Dad.
I’ve always been close with my parents, but my dad especially. Cooper, Sebastian, and Izzy all play their sports with talent and grit, but I’m the one who chose to follow in Dad’s footsteps. He had the fortune of a full career in the NFL with the Cardinals and the Giants, several Super Bowl wins, and since retirement, a flourishing post-sports career in broadcasting. I’ve looked up to him since I was a little kid, and the closer I’ve come to reaching the league, the more pressure I feel to become him. Hell, they started writing articles about my potential for professional football when I was in middle school. Anything less than success as an NFL quarterback will be a disappointment for everyone, but especially me and my father.
“You’ll do great,” he says, voice gruff. “Gomez keeps texting me about your progress.”
I feel my face redden. “Has he? Dad—”
He holds up his hands. “I know, I know. You want to do your own thing. I’m just proud, son.”
Suddenly, a blur of long, dark hair and a purple McKee jersey engulfs me. I play along, pretending to stagger backwards as Izzy hugs me, her lean arms squeezing so tightly it hurts. She rubs her cheek against mine, and I drop a kiss to the top of her head.
“Hey,” she says breathlessly as she steps back. “Sorry about that, Chance called me.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you’re still with Chase?”
She flushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We’ve been dating for almost a year now; you know his name.”
“I know Chance is a dumb name,” I say cheerfully. “How’s it going, Iz? Glad you could make it.”
“I wanted to go to Vermont to see Coop’s game, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me go on my own,” she says.
“And let Cooper take you to a college party?” I say, filled with horror at the mere thought. I love my sister, but she’s a social butterfly, and has caused more than one headache for our parents at her prep school. On the one hand, it’s a good thing she’s a senior and finally about to graduate, but on the other, I’m not sure McKee is ready for her. “Absolutely not.”
“Exactly!” Mom says.
Izzy huffs out a sigh. “Anyway, this can count as my McKee campus visit. I’m sending in my application as soon as I finish working on my personal statement.”
“That’s great,” I tell her. “It still sucks we won’t overlap at all.”
She shrugs. “I’ll just take your room.”
I bark out a laugh at the thought of Cooper letting our baby sister have the owner’s suite. She’s got all of us wrapped around her finger in one way or another—being the little sister of three protective older brothers will do that—but I’d bet that that will be a bridge too far. “Good luck with that.”
“Seb’s coming, right?” she asks as we head into the restaurant. Coming up from Long Island, they decided to make a day of it, so we’re in Moorbridge for breakfast. After this, I need to go into true game prep, so they’ll be on their own, but I’m excited to know they’ll be watching the game. And an even bigger part of me is excited by the fact Bex will be watching, too.
“Yeah,” I tell Izzy. “Actually, he’s here already, look.”
Seb stands up from his table in the back, a grin on his face. “Izzy!”
“Sebby!” she cries, launching herself forward for another bone-crushing hug.
Dad gives me an exhausted smile as we wind our way to the back. “I wish you were going to be around to keep an eye on her.”
“I’ll make sure Coop and Seb do,” I say. “Even if I’m out in San Francisco.”
“You’ll go there for sure if you’re the first pick,” he agrees. “But I wouldn’t count out Philadelphia.”
Before we reach the table, he pulls me aside. “How are things really?” he says. “What about that one class you’re taking?”
His voice is serious, shifting into coach mode. He never coached me in an official capacity, growing up, but he’s been my football mentor as much as my father, and when we’re talking like this, there’s a certain unspoken set of rules in place. I stand up straighter as I reply, “It’s going well, sir. I’m working with a tutor.”
Bex is not just a tutor; the second she’s in my mind, I’m thinking about how fucking good it felt to finally give in to our mutual attraction. I know we agreed there wouldn’t be a repeat, but in the couple of days since, I’ve been itching to kiss her again. To hear the pretty sounds that she makes when she’s turned on. To make her feel so good she’s clenched tight around my cock, panting, showing off her beautiful tits as she arches her back.
It’s a problem, but it’s not one I’m about to tell my father about. After Sara, we got clear pretty fucking quick about my priorities. When he meets Bex later, he’ll just be hearing about how she’s tutoring me, and we’ve become friends. Hopefully the whole fake relationship we’re weaving doesn’t even come up.
He nods. “Good. What about the team? Any issues?”
Darryl’s smug face comes to mind. Bex was right about him; aside from annoying texts from time to time, he’s left her alone now that he thinks she’s taken by another guy. That shit is stupid, but as long as he’s out of her life, I don’t care. Still, that doesn’t mean I like the guy.
“Nothing major.”
He just keeps looking at me. I swear, sometimes his gaze is so intense, it’s an x-ray.
“Really, sir. No issues.”
“Good.” He claps my shoulder. “Remember your goals, son. You’ll have time for everything else once you’re settled where you need to be. This season is important, it’s setting the building blocks for everything that will come after.”
He couldn’t have made things clearer if he told me explicitly not to fuck up. Even though I know it, I appreciate the reminder. I might be thinking a hell of a lot about Bex lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s leading anywhere. I’ve never tried to be just friends with a girl I’ve slept with, but there’s a first time for everything, right?