Page 89 of Tempting the Player
“I couldn’t help myself. I missed out on all this.” She looks around the gym. Red banners dating back fifty years hang on the walls.
Coming back here always fills me with nostalgia. It’s not that I miss it or anything, but life was definitely simpler.
“Archer showed me your football trophies,” she says, placing the bag of popcorn between us.
I groan. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Your awards and plaques take up an entire case. You still hold the school record for most passing completions or passing yards or...something passing related. There’s even one of your signed footballs in there. I am thoroughly impressed.”
I shift uncomfortably.
“I bet all the girls were in love with you.”
Knox sits forward and butts in. “Oh, they were. He had quite the lineup junior and senior year. He was Prom King, too.”
I am going to kill him later.
“Really?” Jane’s eyes light up.
“Flynn says there’s still some graffiti on the football bleachers declaring you the hottest guy to ever graduate Valley High.”
Heat climbs up my neck.
“Oh my gosh.” Her grin is so wide.
Thankfully the buzzer sounds, and our attention is dragged back to the court as Flynn and his team huddle up on the sideline.
The same guy that was running the scoreboard and announcing the starting lineup when I was in high school starts to call the opposing team. Then it’s time for the Valley players. Flynn sits on the bench with the other starters. The expression on his face is determined and calm. Only his bouncing leg gives away his nerves. He’s the only sophomore on the varsity team, but I can see the respect his teammates have for him.
The lights dim and a spotlight bounces around the court. Music starts up and the announcer lowers his voice as he says, “And now, your Valley High starting lineup.”
Jane’s jaw drops and she looks over at me with such raw excitement that I forget I’ve seen this whole pre-game intro a million times before. Like everything else, it’s basically identical from when I was here.
The cheerleaders line up with their red and white pom-poms. Someone dressed in the old bobcat mascot costume circles the gym with their arms raised. The crowd stands.
The announcer waits until the crowd is properly antsy before he begins. “A six-foot sophomore, number eighteen, Flyyyyyynn Holland.”
My little brother stands and runs out to half-court. Jane screams so loudly that people around us all turn to stare at her. Flynn’s cheeks turn red, but he can’t hide the grin stretching across his face.
The other four players are announced in the same fashion. Jane cheers for all of them, but none as loud as Flynn. I bet he freaking loves that.
When the lights come back up, the team takes off their warmup jackets and tosses them into a pile at the end of the bench. Flynn steps back onto the court with the number eighteen proudly stretched across his chest. Our mom’s birthday. January eighteenth. It’s the number I wore too.
The rest of the crowd sits, but not Jane. She bounces on her toes, yelling proudly for Flynn. Knox shoots me an amused look as he tosses more M&Ms into his mouth.
She finally sits after tip-off, but she’s on the edge of her seat, following the action so closely I have a hard time not watching her instead of the game. But as soon as Flynn scores, she’s back on her feet. He scores often after that.
The popcorn she’s holding is strewn around us from her jumping up and down, and people nearby are starting to get into it too. I think they’re all cheering extra hard for Flynn just to see her reaction. A few people have recognized her, mostly students that I’m sure heard my brother bragging about her, but except for posing for a few selfies, they’ve left her alone.
By halftime, Flynn has over twenty points, Jane has made friends with all the people sitting around us, my brothers are even more enamored with her, and fuck, I am too.
She convinces me to take her outside and show her the football field. Not a lot I wouldn’t say yes to right now where she’s concerned. I gave in last night and now I can’t seem to bring myself to fight it. I want her. My fascination with her isn’t distracting, it makes me the best person for the job. Or at least I hope that’s true.
“Did you play basketball in high school too?” she asks me as we walk down the sidewalk away from the gym toward the field behind the school.
“When I was younger, I did, but I focused on football in high school.”
“I saw a picture of you in your uniform. You were cute.” She slips her hand around my bicep. “I would have had a huge crush on you even then. Though apparently, I would have had to get in line.”
