Page 40 of Lucky Baller
“Love you, too,” they say in unison, and the call goes dead.
Nurture.
Show her.
Quickly, I type out a text.
Me: How was your day?
Tessa: Good. Thank you again for lunch.
Me: You’re welcome.
I stare at my phone, not knowing what to say. That’s not like me. I’m never short for conversation, but with Tessa, I find myselfnot so lucky after all. Tessa saves me when she sends another text. It’s a picture. Opening it up, I see a picture of the throw from her couch covering her legs.
Tessa: Just relaxing.
Me: Me, too. I have a long practice day tomorrow.
Tessa: How’s the season going?
I’m taken aback by her question. I’ve never had a woman other than my mother or maybe a mom or wife of one of the guys ask that question.
Me: I’m positive about this year. The team is looking good.
Tessa: I looked at the schedule. You play the Mavericks in week one at home.
Me: You coming to the game?
Tessa: Always.
Me: Wait a minute. You’ve seen me play?
She’s taking too long to reply, so I hitSendon her name, and it rings twice before she answers. Her laughter rings through the line. “Landon,” she sputters.
“Tess,” I say, trying to be stern but failing. “Have you seen me play?”
“Of course, I have. I never miss a Mavs game.”
“Fucking Mavericks,” I mumble, making her laugh even harder.
“I’m going to convert you to a Cougars fan yet.”
“Diehard Mavs, baby,” she cheers.
“What did you have for dinner?” I ask her, changing the subject. Just the thought of her cheering for A.J. Holland pisses me off.
“Meh, nothing too exciting. I had the rest of the chicken casserole. You?”
“I ordered Chinese.”
“I love Chinese,” she says over a yawn. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”
“Yeah, I ran five miles when I got home. I’m beat, too.”
“Sheesh, no wonder you’re in such good shape.”
My chest puffs out a little at her compliment. “We have the season opener in a few weeks. Will you be there?”
