Page 18 of The Fantasy League
What Coach didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
His daughter was the one who gave me the idea for the fake relationship in the first place, so he couldn’t give me too much shit if he ever found out.
“She’s supposed to give me an answer this morning.” I tilted my head toward the locker room to give Coach the nonverbal that he was holding me up from finding out the answer to his prodding question.
“Get on with it then, son. You best pray that girl says yes.” He shook his head and gave me a pat on the back as I started to walk away. A bleak look covered his face like he wasn’t confident she was going to say yes.
I couldn’t blame him. Fuck, even I wasn’t sure she would accept.
A week had passed since I had asked her, and while I wanted to respect Scarlett’s wishes and give her time to think on it before making a decision, I was running out of time. With practices picking back up and team events scattered over the next few weeks, I needed to get this girlfriend situation squared away.
Walking into the locker room showers, I turned the nozzle to the hottest setting before peeling off my sweat-covered clothes and stepping into the scorching water. I spent the next fifteen minutes practically burning off the first layer of skin while internally debating whether or not Scarlett was going to agree to this.
Part of me was starting to regret offering Scarlett the house. Not because I wanted it. I didn’t need the damn house. But after seeing how embarrassed she got when I offered it to her, I felt like a dick for feeding into one of her insecurities.
I wasn’t planning on bringing it up again unless she mentioned it first.
Stepping out of the shower, I pulled the towel off the hook and wrapped it securely across my waist. Fortune, our wide receiver, slapped my ass with his towel as he passed me in the locker room on his way to the showers and I let out a low chuckle.
I threw on a clean black shirt and a pair of gray joggers before slipping on the latest tennis shoes that were given to me by one of my brand partners, Nagem. I’d been working with them for a few years and they paid me a fuckton of money to wear their clothes during team interviews or in the pictures I posted on Socialgram.
Occasionally I’d fly out to Los Angeles to do an advertising campaign photo shoot or to film a commercial for them.
Aside from playing, this brand deal was my favorite perk of being a big name in the league because it meant that I hadn’t gone shopping for clothes at a regular department store in years. I had another connection to the fashion industry, but I would rather go naked than wear some of the high fashion bullshit she designed.
A new message lit up on the home screen of my phone as I finished lacing up my tennis shoes. Picking it up off the bench, I keyed in the password. “Speak of the devil,” I whispered under my breath as a new text popped up from none other than Aera Chase herself.
Aera:If you keep ignoring my texts, I’m going to show up on your doorstep again, but this time it will be to murder you.
Aera:With a chainsaw.
Aera:While you’re sleeping.
Aera:I wouldn’t doubt me if I was you.
Abel:We both know you wouldn’t go through with it. Orange isn’t your color, Aer.
Smirking, I thumbed out my response, knowing that it would keep her occupied for a while. I turned my phone on do not disturb mode after her fourth notification came through. Picking up my gym bag from my locker, I threw it over my shoulder and shouted goodbyes to the boys before leaving the locker room and heading out toward the team parking lot.
I slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh and turned the key in the ignition. A momentary panic consumed me thinking about going home to hear Scarlett’s answer, so I prolonged the situation and unnerved myself even more by driving ten under the speed limit and taking the longest route back to my place.
I had a hunch that I would eventually get over it if she ended up turning me down, but I wanted her to say yes. More than that, I wanted her towantto say yes.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened remembering how she flat out said no four times before agreeing to consider my proposition. And that was only after I’d thrown in the house as collateral.
Fuck.
My stomach churned and I started regretting taking the longest route back to the house. I needed to get this over with before I went mad.
Turning the wheel on a dime, I took a shortcut, speeding through the familiar side streets before making it to the neighborhood’s back gates.
The only productive thing I’d come to terms with on my ride was the fact that I had been an asshole to her.
And it was no one’s fault but my own.
But beating myself up for it wasn’t going to get me anywhere though.
Growing up, Mom always said that the cards would always play out in my favor if I played long enough. Then again, she was the town poker champion six years in a row though, so I’m not sure whether she was spitting out life advice or poker advice.
