The most important thing right now is to win this game.
20
BEX
When I stumble into the kitchenette on Saturday morning, there’s a package waiting for me on the table.
Laura, who is still in her pajamas—a gray t-shirt that must be Barry’s—takes a sip from the mug she’s clutching with both hands. She just shrugs when I raise an eyebrow. “It was leaning against the door when I came back from Barry’s. Oh, and I brought bagels.”
“Ooh, you went out for bagels?” I put a fresh coffee pod into the machine on our tiny countertop and set it to brew while I poke around in the brown paper bag next to it. There’s a still-warm sesame seed bagel waiting for me, plus scallion cream cheese, the true undefeated combination. “You’re awesome.”
“I know.” She smiles, tapping on the mug with her long nails. When she heard I had tickets to the game and wanted her to come with me, she went to get a fresh manicure, so now her nails are silver and purple, McKee’s colors. I had work, so I couldn’t tag along, but last night she painted my nails purple too. Hopefully James won’t think it’s silly.
I put creamer in my coffee and toast my bagel, then plop down at the table across from Laura. The package is staring me in the face, and I can’t help the flutter of my heart at the sight of it. I haven’t seen James since we slept together; we’ve both been too busy for a tutoring session, but we’ve been texting, and every time his name flashes across my phone screen, I smile.
“Let’s hope it’s from James, not Darryl,” I say as I pull the package closer. A couple days ago, Darryl cornered me in the library to try to chat me up, so I wouldn’t put it past him to try something.
“I still can’t believe you slept with him,” Laura says. “And that you haven’t given me details!”
I blush. “You know it was good.”
“Obviously it was good, but what’s he like in bed? Sweet? Dominant?”
I just roll my eyes. “I’m going to go ahead and open this now.”
There’s a note on the top, and when I see my name written in James’ handwriting on the envelope, I try and fail to bite back my smile. Inside, there’s a single piece of notebook paper with just one line on it, signed with a J.
Figured you’d need the right jersey, princess.
Laura snatches the note from my hand as I tear into the package. “Princess? He calls you princess?”
“Kind of.”
“That’s so romantic.” She gasps as I unfold the jersey. It’s his, of course; the number 9 stitched on both sides and CALLAHAN across the back in block letters. I used to have Darryl’s jersey, but I got rid of it along with a bunch of other things back in the spring, after I discovered that he was cheating.
“It’s the perfect size,” I say.
Laura nods sagely. “It’ll show off your boobs. I’m sure he picked it out with that in mind.”
I kick her under the table, but she just laughs, and after a moment I start laughing too. I have a presentation to work on for class, plus an essay to write, but later today, I’m going to see James play football.
Thank God we’re not trying to fool James’ parents with our fake relationship, because I’m pretty sure Richard Callahan hates me.
When Laura and I arrived at the box with Sebastian, he introduced me as James’ friend. Sandra immediately pulled me into a hug and asked how I knew her son, so I explained the tutoring, leaving out the other half of the deal. Richard greeted me politely, but the game is almost over now, and he’s been glaring at me nonstop.
Maybe it’s the jersey—girlfriends wear their guys’ jerseys, everyone knows that. But honestly, why would he care if his son is dating someone? Maybe he can tell that even if I was with his son for real, we wouldn’t be a good match. The Callahans are rich and famous. I’m just a diner rat. When James ends up with someone for real, she’ll be like him and will make the perfect NFL wife.
The thought makes me tighten my grip on my drink.
Sebastian nudges me. “James is back on the field. LSU only got a field goal.”
I look to the big television screen across from us, which is currently showing a close-up of James’ face as he surveys the field. He has a cut on his nose from a sack back in the second quarter, and his jersey, which had been pristine at the start of the game, is covered in dirt and grass stains. He points and shouts as he adjusts the offensive line. As I watch, he takes the snap and immediately hands it off to one of the other guys, who darts through a hole in the defense and gains twenty yards. The crowd erupts into cheers. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Richard nod, his face serious as he leans forward in his seat.
It’s been a back-and-forth sort of game, with McKee getting plenty of offensive opportunities, but LSU getting them as well. McKee is leading, but barely, so a touchdown on this possession is important. I didn’t pay much attention to football before Darryl, but last fall I got really into it, and now I know what’s going on. James sets up again and throws a pass this time, but it goes wide, so they drop to a second down.
Sebastian leans in. “You’re going to hang out with us after, right?”
“Yes, she is,” Laura says before I can reply.
I roll my eyes. “Of course. Izzy pretty much threatened me with pain of death if I didn’t.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he says. “She can be very persuasive.”
For a moment, I wish what he just said was true; that I’ll get used to it because as his girlfriend, I’ll be seeing a lot more of his family. But I shake my head slightly, banishing that thought. If anything, I can let myself get comfortable with being his friend. But that’s it.
McKee inches down the field for the next few plays, and a penalty gives them a fresh set of downs. Richard claps his hands together in celebration, laughing and replying to something the guy sitting next to him says. Sebastian gives a whoop, standing to get a better view of the field. I follow suit, even though it makes me feel dizzy to be up this high. McKee’s football stadium is huge, and it’s rocking right now, lights flashing in the overcast late afternoon.
James escapes a sack and throws the ball while he’s falling backward; somehow it finds one of the receivers, who catches it on the tips of his fingers and hauls it in right at the edge of the red zone.
“Go James!” I shout. Then I blush because half the box is looking at me. But my heart is beating in time with the crowd, and James is so close to putting this game away for good that I can’t help the excitement running through my veins. They set up again, and he fakes a pass before spinning around and airing it out into the end zone. It sails over the receiver’s head.
They try again. Same result.
“Come on,” I whisper, my stomach clenched tight as I see the close-ups of him as he runs over to Coach Gomez for a time-out regrouping. It’s third down. If they don’t get the touchdown here, or a penalty for new downs, then they’ll probably try for the field goal, and that leaves the door open for LSU to try and win it on a touchdown in the last minute.
He looks so serious as he sets up the line, yet somehow relaxed as well. I’ve never been an athlete, so I can’t understand it, but something tells me he’s got this.