Page 87 of Racking Up Penalties
We rise from our seats, and I can feel the reluctance in her movements, mirroring my own hesitation to part ways even if it’s only for an hour.
“Thanks for the coffee—and the pep talk,” I tell her as we head toward the door.
“Anytime,” she replies, her gaze holding mine. “And remember, if Tyler gives you any more trouble…”
“I’ll handle it,” I assure her, cutting off her protective instinct. “I’m not letting him or anyone else shake me.”
“Good,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek quickly before stepping back. “Bye Tristan. I’ll get changed and meet you at your place, then we can go to the bar and celebrate your win today.”
“Sounds great.”
With a final wave, I watch her stride away, her long red hair catching the light as she moves with purpose.
Turning my back to the coffee shop, I head down the sidewalk, feeling the weight of my thoughts lighten with each step. The chill in the air is invigorating, and I draw in a deep breath, allowing the coolness to fill my lungs and clear my head.
Tyler’s antics seem trivial now, dwarfed by the significance of what Tessa and I have. Coming here was the best decision I’ve ever made.
As I arrive at my house and see Brian in the living room.
“Hey! Sorry about Tyler today. The guy has always been a pain in the ass but he’s worse now.”
I shake my head. “I can handle him but thanks.”
I stride into my room and see Tessa sent me a text. A simple heart that makes me feel her love and support.
I quickly change, anxious to see her again as soon as possible.
Chapter 38
The door swings open, and the wall of sound from inside the bar hits us like a tidal wave. Shouts and laughter ricochet off every surface, blending with the clink of glasses and the thumping bass of a victory playlist that’s got everyone hyped up. Tristan’s hand brushes against mine as we step into the chaos.
“Look who it is!” someone bellows over the noise, and half the football team turns to cheer us on. My cheeks flush with warmth as I’m swept up in their enthusiasm.
“Come on, Tess,” Tristan nudges me gently, his deep blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “Let’s dive in.”
Everyone raises their glasses after two beers are passed to Tristan and me.
“To our quarterback!”
My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. I’m so happy for Tristan. He’s really found his place here.
His presence, steady and sure, propels me forward, and we wade through the sea of bodies. Every few steps, someone claps Tristan on the back, and I can’t help but smile at how they’ve accepted him, how they see what I’ve always known—his strength and his dedication.
Tristan’s hand on my lower back is steady as he guides me through the throng of jerseys and high-fives, his presence a calming force in the boisterous crowd.
“Guys, this is Tessa,” Tristan says with a note of pride, his voice cutting through the noise effortlessly when we reach some teammates I haven’t met yet. The circle of towering figures shifts and opens up to include me. A sea of faces turn my way—some flushed from celebration, others etched with the satisfaction of a game well played.
“Hey, Tessa!” A burly player with a grin as wide as the field slaps Tristan on the shoulder. “You’ve got mad taste, man. This girl here is the reason you came to Eastwood, right?”
Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it, the words flattering yet laced with an unexpected weight. “I’m just glad he’s found his groove with you guys,” I reply, brushing away the compliment like a stray thread on a sleeve.
Another teammate, his hair a tousled mess from the post-game jubilation, steps forward. “For real, though—you’re like our lucky charm. Ever since Tristan joined, we’ve been on fire. You’re part of that magic.”
Their gratitude wraps around me. I feel an unfamiliar blush creep across my cheeks, uncertain how to respond to being a footnote in their season’s success.
“Thanks, but I think Tristan’s the one you should be thanking. He’s the one making all those plays,” I deflect, feeling Tristan’s gaze on me, bright and encouraging.
“Still, it’s good to meet you finally,” another adds, nodding respectfully. “He talks about you a lot.” There’s a teasing edge to his tone that sends a quiver of awareness down my spine. I catch Tristan’s look—a mix of embarrassment and something softer. It’s a look that makes my heart skip a beat, and I tuck it away like a secret gift.
