Page 39 of Hard Count
“It is a big deal. Because you also write up a full report for the team with the plays and individual player adjustments. When do you have time for yourself? Go out with friends?”
She focuses back on her computer and creates a new tab on her spreadsheet. “I haven’t made many friends since I moved. I eat breakfast at The Round Table with a few guys from one of my psych classes and hang out with Frankiewhen she’s free. And I go to my dad’s sometimes,” she states casually.
Too casual if you ask me. And who are these guys? Why does my blood pressure sky rocket thinking of her having breakfast with someone other than me?
“What day?” I ask, staring at her profile.
Her eyebrows bunch together in confusion. “Huh?”
“What day do you get breakfast?”
“Why? Are you inviting yourself to come?” She leans back against the couch.
“Maybe,” I say, attempting to be as relaxed as she is about the situation. “I want to meet your friends. You’ve met all of mine.”
She studies me for a moment before going back to watching the game film. Her silence drowns out all the noise from the television and the base pounding from her neighbor’s music filtering through the wall.
“Wednesdays. We meet up before class.” She makes a tally mark on her paper next to‘fifty yard plus run.’Facing me she says, “You can join us when you’re done working out. Our class doesn’t start until ten.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
She snorts a laugh.Fucking adorable.“I don’t think they’ll care. You’ll like them. They’re really nice and funny.”
“They sound great. Any more compliments you want to give them?”
“I could probably think of a few,” she says, holding back a laugh. “Are you jealous you don’t get to spend time with them?”
“You think you’re being cute but…” I lean into her and start kissing her neck. She tilts her head giving me better access. "I'm having a hard time not being around you all the time as it is. Knowing you're with other guys isn't helping."
She kisses me, eliminating some of my jealousy. “Don’t worry you’ll meet them soon enough. I’m sure they’ll like you as much as they like me.” She pats my leg just above my knee, patronizing me.
“If you’re purposely trying to get under my skin it’s working. I don’t like the idea of other guys knowing more about you than I do. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I kind of like you.”
“Kind of? I’m flattered.” She places a hand on her chest and bats her eyelashes.
“You know what I mean.” I pull on her ponytail.
“Not really. You’re acting like I’m the first girl you’ve ever dated.” She’s teasing me but her smile fades when she reads my face. “I don’t believe you. Not even in high school?” she asks as though she already knows the answer.
“I had a girlfriend in high school but it was…superficial.” I shake off the memory of dating Marci, the head cheerleader. “Everyone expected us to be together so we just were. I didn’t know anything about her, nor did I want to. But you…” I rub my thumb over the scar on her elbow. “I want to know everything.”
She stares down at where my hand is still holding her arm. “I broke it skateboarding when I was ten.”
“You can skateboard?” My eyes widen in disbelief. What else can this girl do?
“No. Hence the broken arm. I didn’t even make it out of the driveway when the board slipped out from underneath me.”
“At least you weren’t afraid to try something new.”
“Right,” she mutters. Then turns her attention back to the television.
“Hey.” I skim my hand over the back of her neck and shoulder. “What just happened? You shut down on me.”
She turns her body towards mine with her left arm resting on the cushion of the couch. “Nothing.” She pushes the links of her gold bracelet around her wrist until she finds the single charm. “It was supposed to be a good day. My dad was going to teach me how to skateboard and I ended up in the hospital with a broken arm. My mom lost her mind. Blamed him for putting me in danger. That day sticks out as the beginning of the end for them. It was my fault and I have the scar to prove it.”
“Baby, your parents’ marriage falling apart wasn’t your fault.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t change how it feels.”
