“I just thought there was something different about you and I couldn’t put my finger on it until you walked past me just now.”
“I, uh–needed it.” She nods like she’s agreeing with herself. “I ran out of mine, and I didn’t realize it. You have a spare one of yours in my bathroom, so I just used it. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” It feels good as fuck to smell myself on her even though it’s disappointing that I didn’t have anything to do with it, and she didn’t get it from sharing a shower with me. “That’s what it’s there for?”
Nash’s nose scrunches a little at my response. “You have a lot of women showering in there?”
I nearly hop off my barstool. “No!” I settle myself back down. “I mean, no. I don’t. But it’s the guest room, so there should be extra supplies in there for any guest who might need it.” Why am I always putting my foot in my mouth around her? I used to know how to be a normal person.
She snorts into her mug like she finds my distress amusing. “Well, mystery solved. I’m going to get dressed now.”
Thank God Nash is out of the house most of the rest of the weekend with Temi because I spend the entire time barely paying attention to anything. My mind completely on my new deal with Nash.
So I’m going to fake date a woman I really have a thing for to bring attention to her professional volleyball team, which she loves more than anything. What could possibly go wrong?
Actually, scratch that. Half my mind is on my new arrangement with Nash. The other half is using all its might to not picture Nash in my kitchen inmyt-shirt and her panties. Maybe I was wrong about living together. Maybe I can’t do it, and it won’t be like it was when she just stayed a long weekend. At least then there was an end to our arrangement.
Even if that’s true, what am I supposed to do now? Kick her out?
I sit at my eat-in breakfast bar, thankful Nash already left for practice, and scroll through my phone while I polish off the last of my protein shake. It tastes like shit today. I miss the cafeteria at the Hurricanes compound. I miss Ma’s cooking, too. I would kill for a tater tot casserole on a wintery day like today. My eyes refocus from my food-induced daydream when they catch Jared Clark’s name in the headline of an ESPN article. I skim it, my empty shake in the other hand.
CLARK: I wasn’t my best, but a bad season for me is a good season for most quarterbacks.
I snort at his comment.What a dick.
I don’t like to talk about why I left Green Bay… Nash is the only one who knows the truth. The day it got physical between us, I knew I had to tell her because I couldn’t stand to play under Clark for a second longer. He’s three-hundred percent competitive. He’s a damn drama queen prone to playing hero ball. He chokes in the NFC championship game every year. He’s the opposite of everything I believe myself to be as a football player—steady, centered, humble, and unflappable. All of that led to a shoving match in the locker room at the end of my last season. He shoved me first, but of course it doesn’t matter. He’s QB1 and I’m just a defensive lineman. I’m lucky the rest of the team separated us before a punch could be thrown.
I love Wisconsin, but the entire state is dedicated to the Butchers. I’m not sure if it’s just state pride or if it’s because they’re the only “fan-owned” team in the league, but everywhere you go people talk about that week’s game. The majority of them keep their singular share of the team over their fireplace mantel like a prized family heirloom. He can do no wrong in their minds. He’s the family patriarch. He’s a hero. Who was I? A young kid from a farm in the middle of nowhere. To say that I didn’t think his football skills made up for his shitty personality? The last thing I wanted to do was kick the hornets’ nest on my rookie contract. Had I said one negative thing about Jared Clark, I very well might not have played another season in the NFL.
So I kept my mouth shut. I looked the other way when Jared wanted to practice his own hand signals with the receivers instead of the ones Coach came up with. I ignored the way he blamed the entire offense when a play didn’t go the way he thought it should. I never said anything to him on the sidelines when he would come and pout during games we lost. I didn’t judge him for his lone wolf mentality. Even though I think he’s the reason we haven’t been to anotherSuper Bowl—I still said nothing. I simply let him be, while quietly trying to soothe the disappointed child inside me who had his poster hung on the wall and dressed up as him six Halloweens in a row.
When Coach called me into his office and told me to pack my bags for Texas, I didn’t argue, I didn’t fight. I took my ticket out of there and didn’t tell a soul about what had really happened. Some days I feel strong, and I think I can shoulder this weight like Atlas holding up the heavens for all eternity, but sometimes I look around and realize no one else understands. No one understands why a farm boy from Wisconsin left his dream team without a fight. I think what it boiled down to was that I would rather everyone continue living their dreams than shatter them with what is most likely just my opinion.
I close the app on my phone and roll my eyes. The dude has an ego the size of Texas. I don’t need to see anything else.
Shit. I jump up when I see the time. I’m already late to meet Noah and Jaden at the gym. I shove Clark into my mental box with all the other shit and lock it down tight.
Hm, that thing is probably getting pretty full.
Chapter Fourteen
NASH
“So, you guys are together?” Simin asks as we stretch, getting ready for another killer practice. It felt good to win our first home game, but it’s a long season, and we need to be prepared for anything.
“We are,” I say, putting my right foot against my left leg and leaning over it. “Wyatt is my boyfriend.” It hurts my stomach to say that when this is all fake, and I want so badly for it to be true.
“Since when?” Temi eyes me from her side stretch. She’s the one I knew would be the hardest to convince. When we met in Italy, the kiss was still fresh on my skin, and I confided in her quickly.
“It’s recent,” I say, avoiding saying anything specific.
“But what about…” she starts.
I switch legs. “We were out for our usual burgers after the game last Friday and we finally talked about the kiss.”
“What kiss?” Simin asks, confused.
“The kiss they shared before she left to play volleyball in Rome,” Temi fills her in.