Page 37 of Good Girl’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #4)

ainsley

Ainsley

Good luck tonight! Catch all the balls!

Boyfriend

You really like that phrase, don’t you?

I do. I mean, that’s what you do, right? Catch the balls? I’m still not sure what a tight end does.

It’s mostly what I do. And hopefully score touchdowns. But you realize you’re the girl who doesn’t swear and you’re making my sport, and my job, sound dirty?

The beauty in my humor is the subtlety.

That it is, Ainsley Mae…that it is.

But seriously. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching. Mia’s taking me to a sports bar. She says it’ll make it feel more authentic. But I know she just wants an excuse for beer and wings.

If you can’t be at a game, a sports bar is the way to go. Just make sure to wear a Nashville Fury shirt. Then you’ll fit right in.

I don’t think I have one.

Well, I’ll have to change that.

You don’t have to do that. I already feel bad enough that I can’t be there.

It’s fine. Probably better.

What do you mean?

Can I tell you something?

Of course.

I’m nervous for tonight.

Why?

I’ve never started in a season opener. Hell, I’ve barely been on active rosters at the beginning of a year. And there’s so much riding on this season. On tonight. What if I forget plays? Or have more drops than catches? What if I get hurt and I have to do fucking rehab with fucking Rockwell?

Hey. What’s this overthinking? Quit trying to copy me

Oh God, I am…Is this how your brain works every day?

Yup. And double time on Sundays.

Damn…I’m sorry. This sucks.

It does, but I’m a pro. So this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to go play football. Be the best tight end (whatever that means). Catch all the balls and score touchdowns. Clear your mind of the rest, and let me overthink it for you.

I’m not sure that’s how it works.

Let’s try. Just take a deep breath. Do what you do best, and I’ll do the same. And just know, I’ll be watching and cheering for you, and doing all the overthinking for both of us.

Promise?

Cross my heart.

“Can I get you another round?”

Mia grabs her tall beer glass and tips it back, finishing the contents of whatever beer she’s drinking. “Yes. One more. Because if this game is about to go into overtime, I’m going to need this and a round of shots.”

My stomach recoils at the word.

“You got it. Anything for you?”

I shake my head. “Just another water would be great.”

The waitress gives us a nod, while also clearing away the smattering of appetizer baskets that we’ve gone through during this game.

Wings. Mozzarella sticks. Jalapeno poppers.

Cheese fries. More sides of ranch than any one table should have.

If I knew that watching football also came with endless apps, I’d have start coming with Mia to watch years ago.

“Still not drinking?” Mia asks, and I shake my head before the question is out of her mouth.

“If you do order shots, can you make sure it isn’t Fireball? That might send me over the edge.”

This makes her laugh as the game comes back from commercial.

The score is tied, and it’s been back and forth since the first quarter.

There’s five minutes left of the game and the Fury have the ball, but if there’s one thing I know about football, it’s that five minutes takes a very long time.

At least, that’s how I remember it when I went to my yearly UT football game with the family.

I don’t think I’ve ever watched a football game as intently as I have tonight.

And I’ve been holding up my end of the bargain in the overthinking department.

How does he not get hurt? What if he does get hurt?

Is the yellow line on the television real or just for us at home?

Are they allowed to go to the bathroom during the game?

Why does the quarterback just shout random words?

Thankfully, Mia is an amazing teacher and hasn’t rolled her eyes at me once.

I also finally know what the yellow flag means.

As for Linc, he’s been catching most of the balls.

Mia reassured me that rarely, if ever, does anyone catch every single pass thrown to them, which made me feel better.

According to the stats that I’ve been keeping up with on my phone, he has caught for ninety-eight yards tonight.

He was close to a touchdown in the second quarter, but there was a penalty on the play that negated it.

I knew that because of the yellow flag. I think it was holding. Which I still can’t tell what that is, but I know it’s against the rules.

“Let’s go!” Mia yells, clapping her hands for emphasis as the Fury onto the field. “One more, boys!”

I never understood when people would yell at the television when watching a game. It’s not like they can hear you. But I must say, more than once tonight I’ve found myself doing the same thing. It’s oddly therapeutic.

“Okay, what needs to happen now?” I ask as the players line up and Bryce starts calling a play.

“So when it’s tied like this toward the end of the game, it’s all about strategy,” Mia explains as he hands the ball off to the running back, both positions I learned the names of tonight.

“The goal is to score, obviously, but you want to do it while also wasting as much time as possible. The quicker you score, the more time the other team has to come back, and you don’t want that. ”

“Makes sense,” I say. “How do they take their time?”

Mia laughs as another play is about to begin. “That’s a lesson for game like three or four. Just know, for tonight, the longer the Fury has the ball, the better their chances are.”

Fair enough. My brain is already flooded with football knowledge I never thought I’d have. I think I’m tapped out for the night.

I don’t think I blink as the Fury slowly makes their way up the field. At some point, I’ve stood from the high-top chair I’d been sitting on, my arms crossed in nervousness as each play unfolds.

“Is every game this intense?”

Mia shakes her head as the Fury converts another first down. “God, no. This one is on another level.”

That makes me feel slightly better. Because if this is what I signed up for this season, I don’t know how I’m going to have any nails left.

The Fury leaves the huddle and lines up.

Linc is on the field and like many plays tonight, all I do is watch him.

It guarantees I don’t miss anything, even if the play doesn’t go to him.

But it’s been fascinating to watch. I didn’t realize how much football was like dance choreography.

Everyone has a place to go and timing in which they have to get there.

If one person does their job wrong, it sends the whole group off.

I might not know what they’re doing, or how they know what to do just by Bryce bellowing out words, but they do, and it’s a beautiful thing to watch.

Now the tackling? I could do without that.

Bryce gets the ball snapped to him and he runs back, looking for a player to throw it to.

My nails are to my lips again as I see Linc running to the center of the field, and like so many times tonight, he leaps above the defender, catching the ball out of the air before falling to the ground.

And because it went past the yellow line that’s only on television, I now know they got a first down.

“Yes!” I scream and jump up and down, hugging Mia. “That’s over a hundred yards!”

“Fuck yeah, it is!” Mia says. “And now they’re in the red zone. That means they’re within twenty yards of the end zone.”

“Good to know,” I say, quickly taking a drink of water as the team comes back together.

My eyes roam around the bar, taking in all the Fury fans who came out tonight.

It’s a home game, and I knew that downtown would be crazy, which is why Mia and I found a place a little outside of town, hoping it wouldn’t be as crazy.

I was wrong about that. The bar is packed.

I still don’t know how we found a table.

Hordes of men are gathered around, yelling at the television for every play, good or bad.

There are a few women here, but none of them are watching as intently as Mia and I.

And if I’m not mistaken, a few of them have sent glances my way.

My brain automatically assumes that I have something in my teeth or toilet paper stuck to my shoe, but I also saw them looking at their phones before looking at me, and I remember that I’m not unknown Ainsley Banks anymore.

I’m Linc Kincaid’s girlfriend.

“Okay, we’re back,” Mia says as she rubs her hands together. “A few more run plays then let’s put this baby in the end zone.”

As if she had a copy of the Fury playbook, the team does exactly that. Two running plays, which puts them around the ten-yard-line with a minute twenty left.

“Is it time to score now?” I ask. And gosh, I hope so. I need them to just win so my stomach can quit doing flips.

“Soon,” Mia says. “Depends what McAvoy has up his sleeve.”

Now that name I know. Hunter McAvoy is a legend in this state. It also helps that his sister lives in Rolling Hills, and my sister is his and his wife’s interior decorator.

“Come on,” I mumble, my feet rocking back and forth before I suck in a breath as I realize that Linc is running toward the end zone.

I don’t blink. I can’t. Not when the ball is launched at him as he comes across the center of the end zone. He has to jump a little to get to it, and just as he’s about to, and in mid-air, a defender jumps into him, sending him to the ground and batting the ball along with it.

“Hey! I don’t think you can do that! That’s mean!” I yell, and apparently I’m right. Because every single person in the bar is yelling at the television as I see the yellow flag being thrown. “What just happened?”

“They just fucked up,” Mia says before the ref comes on television and announces that Charlotte committed pass interference, and that it’s now penalty and a first down.

“Oh, we’re so close!” I say as I see the big number ten behind where the Fury is lining up and the end zone just a few yards away. “Mia, why am I so nervous?”

“Because you’re a football fan now,” she says, and luckily for me and my breathing, Charlotte takes a time out, and I get a chance to sip—no, gulp—my water before the final plays.

“Are you having fun?” Mia asks.

“I am!” I say genuinely. “It’s a whole different experience when you have someone to watch and vested interest.”

“I bet.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I mean, so do you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Are you saying you aren’t watching differently now that you and Wyatt…”

I trail off because I assume that they hooked up that fateful night, but she never came out and said so, and I don’t want to assume. But Mia waves me off.

“It was one night of fun,” she says dismissively. “Not like he’s my boyfriend.”

“But he could be.”

She shakes her head. “You know I don’t date football players.”

“If I can, you can.”

“But are you?” she asks. “I thought you two were just pretending.”

Thankfully the bar is loud enough that I doubt anyone heard her say that. “Well, yeah. But we’re friends. And tomorrow we’re going on a date. So it’s kind of real? But it’s not.”

Out of habit, I reach over to my wrist and give the rubber band that I’ve rarely taken off a snap. Though if I keep this up, I’m going to have to get a new one, as I’ve almost worn out the elastic.

“Just be careful,” she says as the game comes back from the commercial. “I know you can catch feelings easily. And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Well, other than my wrist hurting, but she doesn’t need to know that.

The cheers of the bar pull us away from the conversation, and I resume my position, standing with one arm wrapped around my stomach as I bite the nails on my free hand. There’s less than a minute on the clock, and according to Mia, this is probably the time they need to score.

I’d like to happen now, please and thank you.

“Come on…” I whisper as Bryce gets the ball. The players start running to their spots, and my eyes are trained on Linc as I see him come across the center like I’ve watched so many times tonight. I suck in a breath when Bryce guns the ball his way, and then I stop breathing all together.

Linc leaps.

The ball is in his hands.

He brings it into his chest.

And then he falls to the ground.

But he never loses hold of it.

Touchdown Fury.

Touchdown, Linc.

“Oh my gosh!” I yell, cheering and jumping up and down in the middle of the bar. But I’m not the only one. Mia is randomly high-fiving the table next to us before running over to me and picking me up, spinning me in a circle.

“You’re boyfriend is a fucking beast!” she yells. “That’s right! My girl is dating Linc Kincaid, and the Fury are going back to the championship!”

That earns a few hoot and hollers from the crowd as I focus back on the television, where the camera on the field is now zoomed in on Linc.

“What’s he doing?”

I don’t answer Mia as I watch the camera zoom in on Linc, ball still in his hand. I feel the goofy grin on my face as I see how happy he is, while also knowing how much relief he has to feel after having a game like he just did.

When the camera is just inches from him, I watch as he points to it…all before he makes an “x” across his heart.

“Why’d he do that?” Mia asks. “I’ve never seen him do that after a touchdown.”

I bite my lip and fumble to find the rubber band on my wrist and snap it. Because I think know.

Cross my heart…

He…that was for me. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.

And not in an overthinking kind of way. No, Linc looked right in the camera and made the motion.

It felt intentional. And even though he’s across town, playing in a stadium with sixty-nine thousand fans surrounding him, and thousands more watching this game around Nashville, at this moment, I know that this is a moment for us.

Gosh darn it…I’m really going to need another rubber band.