Page 57 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Is it time to score now?” I ask. And gosh, I hope so. I need them to just win so my stomach can quit doing flips.
“Soon,” Mia says. “Depends what McAvoy has up his sleeve.”
Now that name I know. Hunter McAvoy is a legend in this state. It also helps that his sister lives in Rolling Hills, andmysister is his and his wife’s interior decorator.
“Come on,” I mumble, my feet rocking back and forth before I suck in a breath as I realize that Linc is running toward the end zone.
I don’t blink. I can’t. Not when the ball is launched at him as he comes across the center of the end zone. He has to jump a little to get to it, and just as he’s about to, and in mid-air, a defender jumps into him, sending him to the ground and batting the ball along with it.
“Hey! I don’t think you can do that! That’s mean!” I yell, and apparently I’m right. Because every single person in the bar is yelling at the television as I see the yellow flag being thrown. “What just happened?”
“They just fucked up,” Mia says before the ref comes on television and announces that Charlotte committed pass interference, and that it’s now penalty and a first down.
“Oh, we’re so close!” I say as I see the big number ten behind where the Fury is lining up and the end zone just a few yards away. “Mia, why am I so nervous?”
“Because you’re a football fan now,” she says, and luckily for me and my breathing, Charlotte takes a time out, and I get a chance to sip—no, gulp—my water before the final plays.
“Are you having fun?” Mia asks.
“I am!” I say genuinely. “It’s a whole different experience when you have someone to watch and vested interest.”
“I bet.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I mean, so do you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Are you saying you aren’t watching differently now that you and Wyatt…”
I trail off because I assume that they hooked up that fateful night, but she never came out and said so, and I don’t want to assume. But Mia waves me off.
“It was one night of fun,” she says dismissively. “Not like he’s my boyfriend.”
“But he could be.”
She shakes her head. “You know I don’t date football players.”
“If I can, you can.”
“But are you?” she asks. “I thought you two were just pretending.”
Thankfully the bar is loud enough that I doubt anyone heard her say that. “Well, yeah. But we’re friends. And tomorrow we’re going on a date. So it’s kind of real? But it’s not.”
Out of habit, I reach over to my wrist and give the rubber band that I’ve rarely taken off a snap. Though if I keep this up,I’m going to have to get a new one, as I’ve almost worn out the elastic.
“Just be careful,” she says as the game comes back from the commercial. “I know you can catch feelings easily. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Well, other than my wrist hurting, but she doesn’t need to know that.
The cheers of the bar pull us away from the conversation, and I resume my position, standing with one arm wrapped around my stomach as I bite the nails on my free hand. There’s less than a minute on the clock, and according to Mia, this is probably the time they need to score.
I’d like to happen now, please and thank you.
“Come on…” I whisper as Bryce gets the ball. The players start running to their spots, and my eyes are trained on Linc as I see him come across the center like I’ve watched so many times tonight. I suck in a breath when Bryce guns the ball his way, and then I stop breathing all together.
Linc leaps.
The ball is in his hands.
