Page 18 of Hard Count
“Why?” Her tone is soft and lacks her usual confidence. I should tell her the team needs her. We did well enough following her basic notes. I can’t imagine how much better we’d be if she actually helped us run drills at practice.
She chews on her bottom lip, waiting for my response. “Because…” Can I admit I want her there? That the idea of seeing her on a regular basis quiets some of the anxiety I’ve been feeling ever since I was promoted to the starting QB position? “Because you’re the only one who can do this. No one else can look at a player and see what you see.” No one else seesmethe way you do.
“This is all true. I appreciate you saying so,” she says, giving me a small amount of hope. “Unfortunately, I’ve decided I don’t want to help anymore.” She lifts her chin.
“You don’t want to help? Why?”
“I just don’t. It no longer interests me.”
She turns her head when I move toward her. “Did he say something?” I ask. Her jaw clenches and she swallows hard. Placing a hand on her cheek, I gently tip her face toward mine. “If he hurt you…” My train of thought drowns in a pool of fury. I’m not sure what I would do if he hurt her mentally, physically, or emotionally. It’s all pain she doesn’t deserve.
Her hand wraps around my wrist and my pulse quickens with the contact. “No, he didn’t hurt me,” she says, avoiding eye contact. She removes my hand from her face. I hold my breath while counting the seconds she keeps my hand in hers before finally letting go. Three but it felt like thousands. “I’m just not interested in helping anymore. It’s for the best.”
“I don’t believe you. This is exactly what you want to be doing and you know it.”
“Believe what you want. I’m not changing my mind.”
“Okay.” I hand her the stack of papers that have now seen better days after being at practice all week and curled up in my pocket. I tip her chin until her green eyes are staring back at me. “Don’t let anyone steal your dreams. Especially not the man who should be encouraging them.”
She inhales a sharp breath. “Goodbye, Nash.”
“Goodnight, Drew,” I say, stepping back, allowing her to close the door to her apartment.
Goodbye feels too final. I can be okay with her not helping the team. But the idea of her just being someone I say hi to in passing? That scenario doesn’t sit well with me and I can’t pinpoint why.
7
DREW
NEWHOUSE 2-0
I reach down and tap on my phone until a new song plays. One that will motivate me enough to fight through this last set of leg curls. I’m running out of time before the gym will fill up with athletes.
One perk of being the coach’s daughter—maybe the only one—is getting a pass to the student athlete gym which is full of state of the art equipment. There's no wait for machines and you don’t have to worry about unwanted attention.
Everyone comes here with one purpose. It isn’t to get a date or socialize. When athletes walk through the door they are clocking in. They're here to put in the work to be at their peak performance. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Grunting, I dig my heels into the foot roller and engage the muscles in the back of my thighs. I repeat the movement a few more times. Each rep is becoming more difficult thanthe last. I'm about to drop the weight when a pair of white sneakers come into view.
At this angle I’m up close and personal with Nash’s thigh tattoo. I pump my legs a few more time knowing he’s watching. I hope he’s enjoying the view as much as I am. I’ve always wondered what his tattoos were but could never get close enough to see. I never expected them to be a full sleeve of anime characters. It’s sexy the way they cover his muscular thighs and calves.
I lower the weights and maneuver myself into a seated position. Removing my headphones, I smirk at him. “You’re standing kind of close if you’re waiting to use the machine.”
“What are you doing here?” His tone is cold and distant.
This is a far cry from the guy pleading outside my apartment door over a week ago begging for my help. Definitely not the man who was feeding me compliments. Was he just manipulating me to get what he wanted?
Suddenly filled with the fire of a thousand suns, I stand and grab a spray bottle of cleaner and a few paper towels on a nearby table. I don’t have to answer him. Spraying down the bench, I ignore his fuming and mumbled curses. Once I’ve wiped down the bench and every surface I’ve touched, I toss the paper towels in the trash and return the cleaner.
I nudge him out of the way so I can grab my phone, water, and the rest of my things. “Are you ignoring me? I asked you a question,” he says.
I look over my shoulder while I snatch up my towel. His eyes bounce around the gym. Anywhere but on me bent overin my spandex leggings and cropped tank top. It makes me giddy and maybe a little smug. “Looks like you’re the one who’s trying to ignore me. How's that going for you? Why don’t you ignore me some more while I finish my workout?” I ask, walking past him toward the weight room.
The free weights, bench presses, and squat racks are hidden behind half walls in the back of the gym. There are a few football players mulling around but the room is relatively empty. I nod a brief hello to Eli who’s spotting someone doing chest presses.
I drop my things in an empty spot in front of the mirrored wall. Then select two fifteen pound weights from the rack. If I had any sense, I would skip the last part of my workout and hit the showers.
However, if I did that, I would miss Nash kicking some of the guys out of the weight room while I run through my various squat exercises. Keeping my head forward, I stay focused on my form while he has a hissy fit.
