Page 27 of Draft Pick

“No, just something I can’t afford to taste,” I said.

Except her taste was something I craved every day. I closed my eyes and saw Starlie in all her glory, her smile, and her sweet, sexy “O” face that was the biggest turn-on I’d ever experienced in my life.

Nothing compared to her.

Lincoln seemed to understand. His ex, Ursula, was a lunatic, but he still struggled to free himself from her addiction, even when he knew she was bad news. I was not comparing Starlie to someone like Ursula, but addiction was addiction, right?

“You gotta go through the motions, man. Eventually, you’ll stop thinking about her,” Lincoln shared, likely from personal experience. I knew Lincoln was grudgingly circulating in the dating scene, but the idea made me cold inside. I told myself I didn’t need to mess around with that shit. I had my hand when push came to shove, and I wasn’t about to put myself in the same position with someone else as I had with Starlie.

I couldn’t think of anything but the season and the draft. Signing Day would be here before I knew it.

Lincoln picked up on my vibe and asked, “Who’s on your wish list?”

I didn’t like to talk about any potential team draft picks. Felt like bad ju-ju. My grandma Jane had been a little superstitious, and she used to warn me about being too cocky with our wants and dreams because the Universe had an odd sense of humor. Best to stay humble and hope for the best. Everything works out to our highest good, she’d say. God, I missed that kooky woman. Hard to believe my super strait-laced dad popped out of her womb.

She passed when I was thirteen. I remember she didn’t pay attention to any of the shit my dad would say about football. Instead, she always asked about stuff I cared about — friends, tv shows, hobbies — and then she’d sage me if I felt sad about something.

My dad hated when she did stuff like that. I think it embarrassed him, but I liked it. The old bird always made me laugh, that’s for sure.

I could use her advice right now. I think I know what she’d say, though.

“Cason, you gotta listen to your heart,” she’d say, gently poking at my chest. “The heart always knows the right way to go.”

But Grams, it ain’t that simple anymore.

My heart can’t be part of the equation. I had to think of strategy, long-term career potential, and picking the best NFL agent to negotiate my future contracts…the list was endless.

None of it had anything to do with heart.

And all of that rode on the shoulders of my upcoming performance on the field.

Our first game was in two weeks against Fresno State. The Bulldogs had a fierce line-up this year; they were making waves, and people in power positions were taking notice.

As my dad says, every top collegiate quarterback in the United States wanted the same job as me. In March, I’d met a few of the top prospects at the NFL scouting combine in Indianapolis. A few dicks, but otherwise, decent guys — and all competitors gunning for my spot.

“Don’t go making friends,” my dad had warned as we walked into the stadium. I’d tried to tell him to stay home, but he wouldn’t hear of it. I liked having my dad with me as a kid, but those days were long gone.

“Yeah? Don’t go making enemies,” I retorted, leaving him behind as I headed for the locker room, thankful he couldn’t follow.

The thing about my dad, he’d never been an athlete. He’d always been the academic type. So, I figured that when his kid popped out with some athletic ability, he’d seen it as a chance to live out his personal hopes and dreams that’d always been out of reach.

My dad was an excellent attorney — but a crap sports dad.

I swear, if I ever had kids, I’d push school — not sports — because I’ll be damned if I’m going to fall into the same trap.

Red grabbed my attention from the corner of my eye, and I swiveled toward it. My breath caught when I saw Starlie hurrying across the quad, her red and white sundress swishing across her knees as she rushed to her class before the lecture started.

She didn’t see me, and I was glad, but a part of me desperately wanted her to.

I should’ve been honest with her. I should’ve told her I couldn’t start anything serious, but that day on the beach had been too fucking perfect.

I knew if I hadn’t left like I did, nothing would’ve stopped me from showing up at her place every night.

It was the taste of something I didn’t dare to hope could ever belong to me.

I reminded myself that I was doing her a favor, forcefully dragging my gaze away. Our worlds weren’t complementary in any way. She didn’t even like football. My offer to attend a game had been met with an immediate and hard pass. Did I want a girlfriend who loathed the sport that’d become my whole identity?

That’s just it; Starlie made me remember what it was like to be about more than just the game — which was dangerous.

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