Page 14 of Scoring the Player
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” I arch a brow at him.
“Because I’ll be worrying about you and won’t be able to properly enjoy myself, and the parties this weekend promise to be next level.”
“So, it’s about you?”
His playful, cocky smile returns. “Always.”
Butterflies flap around in my stomach, and I’m almost tempted. Almost. “I can’t.”
He considers me for a minute, and I think he’s going to continue to protest, but then my roommates are coming back downstairs, and Felix stands to join them by the door. They all say their goodbyes and file out. Disappointment almost has me changing my mind, but the second I think about all the looks and whispers I got on campus today, I stay firmly seated on the couch.
Felix is the last out the door. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Felix.”
“You’re not going to change your mind. Are you?”
I slowly shake my head. I squeeze my hand around my phone and lift it. “Thanks for your help.”
He bites down on his bottom lip and nods. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you around, Dahlia.”
6
DAHLIA
“Nice job today.No practice tomorrow while they do some maintenance on the course. See you Monday.” Coach Jones drops his hands from his waist and gives us a tight smile. It’s his first year at Valley U, so we’re all getting to know each other. He’s loads better than the last two coaches. I’ve had a different one every year since I was a freshman. As a result, our team numbers are down.
“Hey, Dahlia,” my teammate Harper calls as I head off the practice green. I pause for her to catch up. She’s the only other member of the golf team that’s stayed through the change in coaching staff. “Emmy and I are having people over to our apartment tonight.”
“That sounds fun,” I say. “But I promised my roommate Jane that I’d go watch her sing at The Hideout.”
Harper’s eyes light up. “I’ve heard she’s amazing. Maybe we’ll stop by. I’ll text you.”
“Sounds good.” I wave with the hand around my golf bag.
I’m walking past Ray Fieldhouse, the main athletic facility, when I spot the football team. The coach barks orders from the sidelines as they scrimmage. Felix is easy to spot, since he’s the only one on the field in the red practice jersey the quarterbacks’ wear. He shuffles back, scanning the field, and then sends a beautiful spiral twenty yards away, to who, I have no idea because I can’t tear my eyes off him.
It’s been two weeks since the viral video. Things around campus have not died down. If anything, it’s worse. There are at least a dozen remixed versions of the original video. Oh, and they definitely figured out my name. Desperate Dahlia. Yeah, that’s what they’re calling me. Most people are nice enough not to say it to my face, but not a day goes by without someone recognizing me around campus. I haven’t run into Felix again (small mercies), but Violet said he asked about me at a party last weekend.
I haven’t gone out at all. School, practice, home, sleep. That is my existence.
I know, I know. This year was going to be different. Which is why I’m forcing myself to go out tonight. That, and I’d do just about anything for Jane. Even risk public humiliation.
The action stops on the field. Felix bumps wrists with another guy and then walks toward the sideline, where someone hands him a cup of water. I’m still staring and walking at a snail’s pace when his gaze turns in my direction. With his helmet covering most of his face, I can’t be sure his eyes are on me, but I feel them.
I have regretted not going to the party with him that night only about a million times. Would he really have kept people from saying anything dickish? Would it have been better to face it instead of hide? Maybe that would have been the end of it. I guess I’ll never know.
* * *
The Hideout is a local restaurant. It’s close to campus and has a nice bar area with lots of tables that Valley U students take over on weeknights and weekends. Tonight, Jane is singing with her friend Eric and his band. They do a lot of nineties and early two-thousands covers, even though I know Jane writes original songs. She only sings in public occasionally, when she’s filling in for their main lead singer, and never any of her own stuff.
I ride over with Jane, but she goes straight to help set up. Daisy and Violet are meeting us here. It’s early, so there’s not a lot of people yet. It’s mostly families and couples having dinner, a few guys at the bar are watching the various sports playing on the TVs.
After grabbing a soda from the bartender, I claim a table not far from the small stage area. We want to be close enough she can hear us cheering, but not so close that we can’t talk over the music.
Violet and Gavin are the first to show up. He orders a pitcher of beer, and Vi and I get an appetizer sampler. By the time Daisy and Jordan arrive, the band has started playing.
