Page 175 of Built to Fall
He peered up at me with suspicious eyes and sweetly said,“I would love to see it.”
That’s how I got here. The whole reason Grant asked me to come to the training facility with him was so that he could see me throw a football—something he does practically every day.
I refused to show up with him. As mean as it sounds, I had other things to do today, and Grant tends to stay at the facility for hours longer than I would ever like to.
However, I agreed to meet him here once he was done with his film session.
He’s waiting for me on the turf when I walk in, shirtless with athletic shorts and a backward baseball hat on.
The second he spots me, he stands and jogs toward me, pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss. For a moment, it feels way too cliche for my liking, but I find myself leaning into his embrace anyway.
“How was your day?” he asks, keeping his arm around me as he guides me down the sideline of their practice field.
“It was fine. I worked on some homework for my international policies class. Did you know that in the 90s, Norway mediated more peace agreements than anyone else despite their lack of military presence?”
He smiles down at me, staring for a long moment before bending to retrieve a football off the ground. “You’re the only person who can make something like that sound sexy.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes while his hand falls to the back of my leg, caressing the fabric of my leggings. “That means you weren’t listening.”
“I always listen to you,” he insists. “You’re just too smart for me. My brain is still in red-zone defense, and you're talking foreign policy.”
Grant spins the football in his hands as I mockingly throw my arms up in the air. “It’s so hard being the beautyandthe brains of this relationship.”
All he does is grab me by the hem of my—his—Yale football crewneck. I thought it was fitting for today’s activity. “Hey, give me some credit here, pretty girl.Notes of New Havencalls me the‘Campus Heartthrob.”
I snort. “Did you write that article? Or just fund it?”
This time, he rolls his eyes. Then he tosses me the football. “Enough stalling. Let’s see what you’ve got, hotshot.”
“What? No warm-up?” I tease. “You’re just going to throw me in the deep end headfirst?”
He takes a few steps back, giving me room to throw the ball. “This is me respecting your confidence.”
“Okay.” I grab the ball by the laces before pulling my arm back over my shoulder and releasing.
Grant catches the ball with ease. If he didn’t, I’d be worried, considering we’re only about ten yards away from each other.
He raises an eyebrow, and I know he’s trying notto look surprised, but I know that he is.
“Beautiful,” he says and then tosses it back to me.
I catch it before asking, “Any pointers?”
“I think you got it,” he tells me encouragingly.
“Okay,” I say, backing up a few steps. “You better run.”
Grant arched a brow. “You’re throwing deep?”
“I’m not here to fuck around.”
I point toward the far right side of the field, closer to the end zone. This time he doesn’t hide the uncertainty in his eyes. Honestly, it only eggs me on.
“Better catch it,Heartthrob.”
“If you underthrow me, you lose all trash-talking privileges.” He starts jogging toward where I told him to go.
Ignoring him, I plant my foot as I launch the ball toward him.
