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“You bet I do.”
Then I smile at Kenna. Anyone who helped bring Kenna and I together is my hero.
Behind me, I hear the first few notes of a song before it gets cut off. The halftime show is setting up, and I’m about to be on Coach’s shit list. Kenna reads my apprehension. “I’ll still be here,” she says.
“Promise?”
She makes a cross over her heart.
I give one last lunge forward to kiss her on the cheek and then I drop down, scooping up my helmet as I haul ass down the ramp and toward the locker room.
This just might be the best day ever. I’m playing great, we’re going to beat Hamilton, and when all of this is over, I get to see the girl I’m in love with. What could be better?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Kenna
The new weightroom in the football complex is state-of-the-art. Banners of each first-string player line the room along with the biggest banner announcing the Warner Bulldogs as homecoming champs. I stand in front of West’s poster, wondering if I could get away with stealing it and hanging it up in my room. I have the perfect place for it.
Large hands wind around me from behind, and I lay my head back on his shoulder. “What are the odds?”
“Of?” he asks, his sweaty hands gripping me tighter.
“Of me climbing up there to take that.”
I feel him grin against my cheek. “I think we can arrange it. No more David Booty.”
I don’t even correct him. David who? My mind has been wrapped up in West Brooks for weeks, and he’s going to stay there, consuming me.
After catching the highlight reel of our homecoming game on ESPN, my parents demanded they meet West. That all went down last week, and it went even better than I imagined. They were wary at first, but by the end of the night, they took to him just like I have.
Anyone who meets him can’t doubt his sincerity, and when the two of us are together, it feels like we’re glowing from the inside out.
Behind us, the door opens and more players file in. They wave at us as we break apart, and we head back over to the squat rack where West has already deloaded the bar for my much lighter weights. He doesn’t need to coach me nearly as much as he used to, but he’s always there…just in case.
I drop down for my set and then rerack the bar. West loads another five-pound plate on each side. “So, how would you feel about flying to Atlanta with me on Tuesday?”
My brow furrows. “Fly to Atlanta? Tuesday?”
He shrugs. “That new NIL deal will probably come through.”
I beam up at him. Not only did all of the companies West was already partnering with pull back on their reticence to associate with him after his interview, but even more reached out. One is an abuse charity that he’s going to work pro bono with, but there are other ones, too. Like an online mental health app that connects patients and doctors through the internet for easier access to healthcare.
I couldn’t be prouder of him. “That’s great. I’m so happy, but—”
“They want you to come, too.”
I drop my shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t ask to bring me.”
He shakes his head. “No, they specifically requested me to bring you. They saw us on ESPN…and they want to work with both of us.” He places the clip on the end of the bar, then glances up. My brain has stopped functioning. He smiles at me. Probably at the lost look on my face. “They specifically asked for both of us, I didn’t do a thing. In fact, they said if you had an agent, they would’ve asked your agent directly.”
“But I don’t get NIL deals,” I say, voice wavering.
“You do now.”
I press my lips together. Excitement unfurls in my stomach, making it hard to think. To breathe.
He moves closer, grasping my cheeks. “And I already told them I’m not stealing the spotlight. This is for you. They want you to bring your suit and your dive gear. We’re going to do a photo shoot by the pool.”