Page 89 of Scoring the Player
“Actually, no, maybe I’m not. Dahlia is single.” He rubs his hands together and then laughs. There’s the asshole I know.
I glower at him and he just grins back, smug as fuck.
“Touch her and die, dickwad.”
* * *
At halftime, we have to head out for curfew. Lucas catches a ride with Brogan and Archer so I can swing by and check on the guys at the dorms to make sure they’ve all made it back. Game day will look a little different tomorrow with all our parents in town. We’ll still meet up in the morning for a light workout to shake off the nerves, but then we’re having a brunch, where families can come and meet the coaches and get a behind-the-scenes peek at the facilities.
My parents have already done that stuff and I’m thankful I can use that time to prep for the game instead of giving a tour of the locker room for the fourth time.
As I push through the mezzanine level on the way out of the fieldhouse, I spot Dahlia in line at the concession stand. Her long, blonde hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and she’s wearing a blue Valley U T-shirt with jean shorts and Jordans.
She and Violet are talking and smiling, and I find myself walking toward her without really deciding.
Violet sees me approaching first. Her smile turns hesitant, and she glances at Dahlia for her reaction.
“Hey.” My voice is light and friendly. I thought it would be awkward, but all I feel is happy to see her.
“Hi.” She smiles up at me, not looking quite as comfortable in this scenario. I really hope she doesn’t go back to freezing up around me. I’d miss talking to her.
There’s a beat of uncertainty as we both grapple with how to handle the situation. Do we hug? Wave? Fist bump? Fuck, I don’t know.
Ultimately, I step forward to hug her and she comes into my arms, burrowing her head against my chest. I tilt my head down, inhaling her familiar scent on instinct before she pulls away.
“Is your family here?” she asks, taking a look around me.
“No, they get in tomorrow. Did your dad make it in?”
“Yeah.” She hitches her thumb behind her. “He’s off buying a foam finger or sweatshirt or something.” Her tone is a little uneven, words coming quick. “I’m surprised you’re out this late.”
“Heading out now to do curfew check. What about you? How’s the tournament going? What time do you tee off tomorrow?” Fuck, now I’m rambling.
“It was good.”
“She’s tied for first,” Violet says proudly.
“Congrats.”
She smiles. “Thanks. And I don’t tee off until nine tomorrow. I’m sure we’re going to leave pretty soon too, though. Thanks for the licorice by the way.” Her cheeks are turning pink.
“You’re welcome.”
Violet’s gaze pings between us. I wish she wasn’t here so I could talk to Dahlia alone, tell her she doesn’t need to be nervous around me. Not ever.
“Well, I guess I should go,” I tell her when neither of us seems to know what to say next. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“You too.” She steps back and holds her hand up in a wave.
* * *
“Heck of a game,” my dad says, putting his arm around the back of my mom’s chair and smiling across the table at me.
We’re at The Hideout for dinner before my parents head back. The five of us, plus Teddy.
“Thanks,” I say, letting myself feel the pride in his words. I’m not sure if they saw this path for me, playing football and hoping to make a career of it, but both my mom and dad have always been supportive of my dream.
We won the game, my family was there watching and cheering me on, and there are a number of parties and people going out tonight to celebrate. I should be ecstatic, and I am, but I also find myself wondering how Dahlia’s tournament went. It might even still be going. I consider texting her, but resist. I’m sure I’ll see her out tonight.
