Page 28 of Hard Count
“Must be nice to be Nash Pierce,” she teases, tearing a piece of her roll off with a fork and popping it into her mouth.
“I have my moments. This being one of them.”
“Getting discounted pastries? You should really get out more.”
I bump her leg with mine under the table. “No, spending time with you.” I take a bite of my croissant sandwich and smile back at her. She nods and quietly goes back to her food.
“What were you working on?” I nod to her laptop.
“A project for one of my statistics classes.”
“Have you always been interested in math? It was one of my worst subjects in school. If it wasn’t for my sister helping me, I probably wouldn’t have survived algebra.”
“Not always. I didn’t find it interesting until high school. I had a really good teacher that made it fun. I saw math differently.”
“What do you mean?” I take a sip of my water.
“Math is dependable. It’s constant. You can’t manipulate math. There are no variables that could change the outcome. Two plus two always equals four. Math never let me down,”she mumbles as her knee bounces. I trap it in between mine, making her green eyes widen in surprise before she relaxes into my touch.
“And statistics? How did you get started in that?” Every answer she gives helps me understand her better. I’ve never heard of anyone finding comfort in math. It only gave me headaches. But when you’re living with a parent who's unpredictable, I imagine it would be nice having something you know won’t disappoint you.
“I began tracking football stats in high school. I started with only one or two things like how many times a team would use a certain play or how often they converted on fourth downs. Then it escalated.” She shrugs.
“You could say that.” I laugh thinking of her in depth analysis of each player on the team. She knows everything. I bet she could tell me how many times I take a breath before I throw a pass.
“What about you? Why’d you pick sports management?” She eats the last bite of her roll and scrapes the icing off the plate with the fork.
“Those who can’t do, teach. Isn’t that the saying?”
“It is, but was the draft ever not the end game?”
I want to tell her that as of about two months ago she became the end game. “Yes, but no one is spared from career ending injuries. I also liked the idea of knowing how the business side of sports worked to help me make the best decisions for my own career.”
“That’s smart.”
I nod in agreement. “With every opportunity to make money, there are people waiting to take advantage of you.”
“Is that something you’re worried about? People using you for your fame or what might come in the future.”
“I think I would be an idiot not to be cautious of people.” I eat the last of my sandwich and wipe my hands with a napkin. Tossing it on my plate, I move all the trash to the edge of the table.
“I’m also good at reading people. I’ve been able to surround myself with friends who have my best interests at heart. I know what’s important. That’s something I don’t want to forget no matter where my career takes me.”
“And what’s that?” she asks, absentmindedly playing with the gold bracelet on her wrist.
Leaning my forearms on the table, I say, “Family. My friends. Football won’t always be there but I know they will.”
She leans back in the booth, but I grab her hand before she moves too far away. “What are you thinking?” I ask.
Shaking her head, she watches where my thumb glides over her knuckles. “Nothing. Just that it’s nice you have close friends like that. We moved around so much for my dad’s job I never found my place. There were always kids I was friendly with but nothing stuck. I got really good at not letting people in because I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were moving again.”
“You have a place here at Newhouse.”You have a place with me.
“I do like it here.”
“And the people? Do you like the people here?” I squeeze her hand.
“I do. Frankie’s great. And Eli is really nice. Lucas and Adrian too,” she says, naming off more of my teammates. “Asher makes me laugh.”
