Page 52
Story: The Heartbreak Blitz
“Okay, jackass,” the tall guy says.
“I just thought it was better to introduce your better half first.”
The other player, also wearing a Warner University football jacket, holds out his hand. “I’m Aidan Michaels.”
“Aidan, hi.” His name I recognize. Only because I remember them saying it over the speaker system when Cade caught the game-winning pass last weekend. Michaels to Farmer. Thirty-eight-yard reception with fifteen seconds left on the clock.
West and Kenna scoot down, and to my surprise, Cade sits next to West so I can have the outside. “You good?” he asks once I settle next to him.
“Yep. Perfect.”
Two things I learn right away is that Bailey is a Chatty Cathy, and Aidan watches her like she hung the moon. It’s too adorable for words.
Kenna and West talk too, but they’re more selective with their conversation. Unsurprisingly, Cade is also a talker. I swear he, Aidan, and Bailey could talk about the finer points of floor laminate without having any actual knowledge.
To Cade’s credit, he never pushes me to talk and lets me add my input in my own time. He doesn’t outwardly express surprise when I do contribute something, but he squeezes my thigh under the table as if to encourage me.
I’m barely stressed at all anymore. The guys have gone off on a tangent about their next opponent, and Bailey has her phone out, tapping away at the keyboard.
When my roast beef sandwich is placed in front of me, I take a big sniff. “This is just like I remember having when I was a kid.”
“Oh, you like roast beef sandwiches? Did your grandma used to make them?” Bailey asks. “Mine did.”
I blink at her, not realizing I spoke out loud. I was actually talking about the dish from this very diner, but since no one knows I’m from Warner, I say, “Yeah, same.”
People can forgive a little white lie, can’t they?
But as I lift the first bite to my mouth, I wonder how and when I should tell Cade about my dad…
15
Cade
Despite the chilly evening air, sweat drips from my temples. I grab a cup of Gatorade and sling it back, my eyes wandering. I know I shouldn’t, but I roam the sidelines for Charley.
I find her standing next to Coach, scribbling furiously on a notepad. Throughout the last several weeks, I’ve been by her side while she’s typed them up, emailing them to him and the entire coaching staff. Every time the guys are around, they try to get her to tell them what Coach has said about them, but her lips remain sealed.
Speaking of her lips… They’re perfect. Soft. Encouraging. I get lost in them. Every. Single. Time.
Though, the craziest thing about the last couple of weeks is seeing Charley blossom like a flower around others. She still gives as good as she gets, but she smiles more than frowns now. I told Reid, Lex, and Briar about her, and I’m still getting teasingtexts about that, but I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be taunted about than her.
I grab another cup of Gatorade, and by the time I’m done drinking that one, I’ve talked myself into going up to her…during practice. Heaven help me. Just my luck, by the time I sidle up next to her, Coach has pulled Aidan to the side to have a chat with him. I don’t waste the precious few moments I have. “Go out with me tonight.”
She starts a little, then her cheeks turn red when she realizes it’s me. “Excuse me?”
“Go out on a date with me tonight. A real date. Dinner at a fancy restaurant. We’ll hold hands across the table. I’ll drop you off at your door, heart pounding, hoping that you’ll let me kiss you.”
“So, because you’re a football player, you think I’ll go out with you?” Her eyes dance under a shadow of forced contention.
“Let me do this,” I say more fervently. Nothing sounds better to me right now than making sure she knows how I feel about her.
She presses her lips together, peering away. “Our landlord is actually, um, fixing some of the stuff in the house. Can I meet you at the restaurant?”
“Babe…”
“Or we can do it another time?”
For whatever reason, we always meet in my room. Or on campus. She never lets me take her home. I haven’t seen her place. Or met her roommate. I don’t know what color the walls of her room are or the design on her sheet set. “I really want to pick you up. Like a proper date. I’ll bring flowers and dress to impress.”
“I just thought it was better to introduce your better half first.”
The other player, also wearing a Warner University football jacket, holds out his hand. “I’m Aidan Michaels.”
“Aidan, hi.” His name I recognize. Only because I remember them saying it over the speaker system when Cade caught the game-winning pass last weekend. Michaels to Farmer. Thirty-eight-yard reception with fifteen seconds left on the clock.
West and Kenna scoot down, and to my surprise, Cade sits next to West so I can have the outside. “You good?” he asks once I settle next to him.
“Yep. Perfect.”
Two things I learn right away is that Bailey is a Chatty Cathy, and Aidan watches her like she hung the moon. It’s too adorable for words.
Kenna and West talk too, but they’re more selective with their conversation. Unsurprisingly, Cade is also a talker. I swear he, Aidan, and Bailey could talk about the finer points of floor laminate without having any actual knowledge.
To Cade’s credit, he never pushes me to talk and lets me add my input in my own time. He doesn’t outwardly express surprise when I do contribute something, but he squeezes my thigh under the table as if to encourage me.
I’m barely stressed at all anymore. The guys have gone off on a tangent about their next opponent, and Bailey has her phone out, tapping away at the keyboard.
When my roast beef sandwich is placed in front of me, I take a big sniff. “This is just like I remember having when I was a kid.”
“Oh, you like roast beef sandwiches? Did your grandma used to make them?” Bailey asks. “Mine did.”
I blink at her, not realizing I spoke out loud. I was actually talking about the dish from this very diner, but since no one knows I’m from Warner, I say, “Yeah, same.”
People can forgive a little white lie, can’t they?
But as I lift the first bite to my mouth, I wonder how and when I should tell Cade about my dad…
15
Cade
Despite the chilly evening air, sweat drips from my temples. I grab a cup of Gatorade and sling it back, my eyes wandering. I know I shouldn’t, but I roam the sidelines for Charley.
I find her standing next to Coach, scribbling furiously on a notepad. Throughout the last several weeks, I’ve been by her side while she’s typed them up, emailing them to him and the entire coaching staff. Every time the guys are around, they try to get her to tell them what Coach has said about them, but her lips remain sealed.
Speaking of her lips… They’re perfect. Soft. Encouraging. I get lost in them. Every. Single. Time.
Though, the craziest thing about the last couple of weeks is seeing Charley blossom like a flower around others. She still gives as good as she gets, but she smiles more than frowns now. I told Reid, Lex, and Briar about her, and I’m still getting teasingtexts about that, but I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be taunted about than her.
I grab another cup of Gatorade, and by the time I’m done drinking that one, I’ve talked myself into going up to her…during practice. Heaven help me. Just my luck, by the time I sidle up next to her, Coach has pulled Aidan to the side to have a chat with him. I don’t waste the precious few moments I have. “Go out with me tonight.”
She starts a little, then her cheeks turn red when she realizes it’s me. “Excuse me?”
“Go out on a date with me tonight. A real date. Dinner at a fancy restaurant. We’ll hold hands across the table. I’ll drop you off at your door, heart pounding, hoping that you’ll let me kiss you.”
“So, because you’re a football player, you think I’ll go out with you?” Her eyes dance under a shadow of forced contention.
“Let me do this,” I say more fervently. Nothing sounds better to me right now than making sure she knows how I feel about her.
She presses her lips together, peering away. “Our landlord is actually, um, fixing some of the stuff in the house. Can I meet you at the restaurant?”
“Babe…”
“Or we can do it another time?”
For whatever reason, we always meet in my room. Or on campus. She never lets me take her home. I haven’t seen her place. Or met her roommate. I don’t know what color the walls of her room are or the design on her sheet set. “I really want to pick you up. Like a proper date. I’ll bring flowers and dress to impress.”
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