Page 4 of The Pass Protection
She never answered if she felt something for me like I did her. Was it all a game to her? Did she come here over Christmas break and play me? She doesn’t seem like that type of person, but that girl I met months ago is no longer the girl on the other side of this wall. Something happened to her because she’s changed drastically. I want so badly to believe she feels the connection, the zap of electricity that sparks every time we touch.
Even if she feels the same way as I do, what can I possibly do about it? She’s right that she’s not only my teammate—and friend’s—sister, but she’s my coach’s daughter.
Am I going to risk losing playing time in my junior year because I want to sleep with my coach’s daughter? Hell, I want more than that. I want to date her. But I can’t even say that she feels the same way toward me.
Is it worth it? I can’t risk having a bad relationship with my coach because he found out I was messing around with his daughter.
Dammit. This isn’t how this year was supposed to play out. It was supposed to be simple. Play football and continue getting good grades. I only have two more seasons left until reality comes crashing down on me. Two more years of playing the game that I love before I fly home to Ohio and take over the family business. That’s always been the plan.
Even though thoughts of playing in the NFL plague me, especially since I’ve watched my friends go on to get drafted. Last season, Quinton Boyd took me under his wing, and in the spring, he was drafted into the NFL. It was a dream come true for him. I’ve never given the NFL much thought. It’s never been a dream of mine, as a kid we’d play in the yard like we were professional football players, but that’s all it ever was.
After watching Quinton leave CTU for Denver, his parting words have struck a chord deep inside. He told me I had what it takes to makeit to the league. That if I keep working hard this season, the scouts are going to notice.
But is that what I want? Do I want to play professionally, or do I want to go back to Ohio and help lower the stress on my mom? If my brother was around, I could talk to him or at least feel him out for what his future plans are. But of course, he’s off playing hero to avoid his reality.
And now there’s Bret.
So much for easy. It looks like this year just got a whole lot more complicated.
Iheard the boys leave an hour ago. A lot of noise came from the living room and kitchen, with a mixture of shushes as they all tried not to wake me.
Good news for them…I hardly ever sleep.
Last night, I was wide awake at 2:07, which is the same time every night. I wake in a cold sweat, unable to fall back asleep. No matter how hard I try to exhaust myself, I’m never able to escape the nightmares that come calling in the late-night hours. Bravery is a trait I’m working on building, and after an internal pep talk about how I was safe and far away from Arizona, I stood from the heap of blankets I had piled on the floor in search of a late-night snack. Something about pouring a large bowl of cereal in the middle of the night calls to me. Knowing I was living in an apartment full of boys, I assumed my odds of finding cereal would be high.
Lucky for me, I was right.
Inside the large pantry were five boxes of cereal. I was even surprised to see my favorite brand sitting there. After preparing the delicious cinnamon sugar treat, I climbed on the counter and enjoyed the serenity. The only noise in the apartment came from the whirring of the refrigerator. It was peaceful. For the first time in a long time, I felt genuinely safe inside the four walls that made up my home—as temporary as it may be.
Seeing that it was the middle of the night, I didn’t put any thought into my state of undress. But as soon as Crew walked in from his bedroom, I instantly regretted my choice of not putting on pants.
Crew Riggsby has been on my mind for nearly seven months. And there he was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen we now shared in a pair of tight boxer briefs that squeezed his strong thighs and no shirt. Every ridge of his was on display, and I had to fight with all my might not to give away the reaction he was causing me.
Everything between us has been amicable. I dumped him in the friend zone, and it wasn’t a hard decision since I was dating someone. But I won’t lie. When we are near, there’s a current that runs through us. There’s a spark, an instant attraction. I mean, who wouldn’t be falling to their knees before him?
As a tight end for the football team, Crew isn’t just tall, but he’s freaking built. At six foot, five inches and two hundred and thirty-five pounds of pure muscle, he makes me feel tiny. And I’m not a tiny girl. Height runs in my family, and I’m five foot ten inches and athletic.
Did his build instantly attract me? Absolutely.
But there’s so much more to Crew than tanned skin, muscles, the perfect amount of blond hair dusting his chiseled face, and his dazzling smile.
Crew Riggsby is like a golden retriever puppy. He bounces around with his jovial personality. You can’t help but smile when he’s around.
Which is why I found myself needing to escape the tight galley kitchen. He makes me want to tear down the walls I’ve been trying so desperately to construct over the last few months. But then my idiot self had to go and kiss him. I practically climbed him like a tree, like a magnetic force field pulled us together.
If I thought there was a connection before, there is no doubt there is one now that our lips have touched. His tongue stoked a fire deep inside me and had me wanting to beg him to take me right there.
But I’m not ready for that. I’m so far from ready.
This year, I’m supposed to be focusing on myself. Figuring out who I am. I’m not jumping the first guy who fires up my engine.
Shaking my mind from last night’s encounter, I leave the confines of my room, the very dull and very empty room. I seriously cannot wait until the movers arrive so I can slowly transform this drab apartment room into my hidden sanctuary. I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of nights in here not to take away the bachelor vibes of the apartment. No guy wants to bring a girl back and have to explain that they live with a girl. I figure I should stay out of sight and out of mind.
Walking a few steps from my bedroom to the living room, I reach for the remote and turn on the TV. I scroll through the apps, hoping one of the guys uses the same workout app I do. It’s my lucky day. I find the black icon and click it open, scrolling through the programs until I find the one I’m searching for. Gearing up for the yoga and meditation workout I like to do in the morning, I sit on my floor.
Time to nama-slaythis day.
Locking up the front door, I jog down the stairs with my backpack and forever trusty Spalding—the basketball I carry everywhere. I realized I forgot to pack my gym duffel in the items I brought from Arizona, which means I’m juggling a basketball, a lanyard with my keys and wallet, a phone, a protein shake, and a water bottle.
