Page 7 of False Start
“Harsh,” Ben replies.
Understanding and compassion flash in Bryant’s eyes. “Your dad.”
“Yeah.”
“I get it,” he says. “It would scare me, too.” And then he changes the subject as he sits back on the log next to me. “Are you a football fan?”
“The biggest.”
“Favorite teams?”
Zina and Ben fall into conversation across the small fire as Bryant and I do the same. I don’t know what those two talk about, but they huddle in closer as time passes. I watch my younger sister out of the corner of my eye to keep an ear out in case she decides to put the brakes on with Ben, but I give Bryant the rest of my attention. I find he’s more than just an attractive jock. He’s also intelligent, driven, and disciplined. I’d even venture to say he’s kind since he quickly moved on from trying to date me to treating me like I might actually have something to say about the sport he so dearly loves.
Zina and Ben wander into the cabin at around three in the morning. She gives me a thumbs up to let me know she feels safe with him, and then they disappear inside. I’m not uncomfortable being left with Bryant. He’s an easy going type of guy, and he’s easy to talk to. If I’m honest, he’s one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen, much less spoken to. If he weren’t a football player, I’d give him a shot.
“I don’t want to tucker out on you,” he says, “but, I have hours of film to watch in a few hours with Coach.”
I admire an athlete’s commitment to their craft. Training isn’t only physical, it’s psychological and analytical. A game is simply a battle fought in a long war.
“I should get to bed as well. The couch is very comfortable, but it does pull out into a bed if you would rather sleep on a mattress.”
“I can sleep in my truck,” he replies.
I offer him an easy smile, so he knows I’m being sincere. “I may not date football players, but I have a soft spot for them. You had a long game. Come inside where it’s toasty and make yourself comfortable for the little bit of sleep you can get.”
— 3 —
Then
I SEE NEITHER HIDE nor hair of Bryant Hudson after we part at the hunting cabin on Hale’s Row the next morning, but Zina does. And I’ve heard every single account of the man’s performance at practice each day since from her. Zina and Ben have been inseparable since the last game, and she’s been his personal cheerleader on the sidelines each practice. I get all the details about Bryant and the team when she arrives back at our apartment at the end of each day.
I’m happy to hear he’s throwing the ball more, but thinking about the guy is starting to get out of hand.
I don’t date, period, but I especially don’t date football players. I don’t have time with a double major. Thinking about Bryant is a waste of time... or a completely healthy fantasy. I haven’t decided which. He’s occupying more of my brain space than anyone before, and I’ve had one conversation with the guy. I’m ridiculous.
“Zhanna?” I turn around in the hunting cabin to find my godfather, Otto, standing in front of me with a smile on his face.
“Girl, what are you over there daydreaming about?”
I’m not much of a daydreamer. I prefer to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground, although, I do dare to dream sometimes. If I was honest with Otto about my current train of thought, he wouldn’t believe me.
“I was wondering if our quarterback threw the ball tonight, or if he passed it off to his running backs.”
“His pass percentage increased 25%.”
My eyes almost bug out of my head at the drastic improvement. “Wow. Good on him.”
My godfather smirks at me. “I hear the great state of Louisiana has you to thank for our W tonight.” I shrug.
“He needed knocking down a few notches last Saturday.”
“So you called one of the best quarterbacks in college football a chicken shit?”
It’s my turn to smirk. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“The boy was a machine. You should’ve watched the game.”
I didn’t watch the game tonight because school always comes first. I was studying for an upcoming test. I rarely miss football, but I heard the cheers outside the cabin while I hunkered down inside and buried my face in a textbook. When the shouts went up at the end of the game, I knew our boys had won. “I’m glad he did well. What brings you to Hale’s Row on a Saturday night?”
