Page 38 of Sneaking Around with the Player
She sets my phone in the middle console and angles her body toward mine, then takes my hand closest to hers and laces our fingers together.
I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss the tips of her fingers. “How was your Christmas?”
“Good,” she says cheerily, then a little more somberly adds, “A little weird. Felix and I aren’t really speaking.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’s being unreasonable.”
My fingers squeeze the steering wheel a little tighter.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were the one who injured Garrison?”
“I don’t know. Actually, that’s not true. I thought you’d take their side. I wouldn’t even blame you for it.”
I glance over in time to see her nod slowly. “I watched it. I saw the play.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him. I’d never do something like that on purpose...” I trail off, not sure what else to say.
A quiet beat falls between us. Stella speaks first. “You know, the funny thing is I think you and Felix have a lot in common.”
“Because we both play football?”
“Not just that. You’re both super competitive and extremely loyal. And you both deal with a lot of pressure from your family and teams. I’ve read articles about you. Your coaches and teammates all mention your work ethic and dedication.”
“That’s PR fluff. I work hard because if I don’t, I’m letting a lot of people down. I don’t have any choice but to be dedicated. We practice and lift every day, twice a day in the pre-season. We get January off, but February we’re back on the field. You know what it’s like being a D1 athlete.”
“You say it like it’s a burden.”
“You don’t feel that way?” I ask.
“No. I love it. I wish someone expected more of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not all collegiate sports get the same respect as football. You guys are gods on campus. NFL players are celebrities. Can you name one gold medal diver?”
“Uh...no, but I’ve got a hot prediction for you.” I wave my hand through the air. “Stella Walters, gold in the next summer games.”
She smiles through an eye roll. “See?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I get it, but don’t misunderstand that pressure. It means people care. A lot of people would love to have that care and attention aimed at them.”
I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Does it make it easier to take the criticism from my dad? No. But I get what she’s saying.
I pull into a residential neighborhood that’s decked out in lights. Each house is lit up, a couple even have it synced to music.
“This is amazing. You should see our house. Dad and Felix go all out every year. It’s full-on Clark Griswold.”
“And this isn’t?” I point a thumb toward the brightest house.
“It definitely is. I love it.”
I stop at the end of the cul-de-sac and pop open the glove box. “I got you something.”
“You did?” Her mouth curves into a smile.
