Page 12 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)
“Are you good here?” I ask Eli. It's just him and Ozzy home tonight. Gage had other plans. He's been acting a little off ever since we came back to school. I'm not sure what's happening with him. He rarely missed a party last year and now it's a complete one-eighty.
“Yeah, Oz and I will get everything shut down in a few hours.” He nods to Ozzy whose arm is carefully placed on his girlfriend’s shoulder. She drops her hand on his knee and he about jumps out of his seat. “See what I mean.” Eli chuckles. “Awkward.”
“But funny,” I agree. “Are you going to tell her I’m on my way?” I ask Frankie.
“What do you think?” she sasses.
“Can you at least give me a five minute start?” I ask, handing Eli my beer.
She huffs but sets a timer on her phone anyway. “Three minutes and I’m texting her.”
“I’ll take what I can get. Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask Eli. Hesitantly he follows me toward the basement door. “Are you going to be okay with Frankie and her…friend?”
“It won’t be a problem.” He cracks his neck before glancing in her direction. They aren’t dancing but they're talking intimately.
I nod. I had a feeling that would be his answer whether it was true or not. “Any chance you can distract her for me?”
“She looks pretty distracted already,” he grumbles. Then walks in the opposite direction toward the kitchen. Damnit .
“Tick tock,” Frankie mouths silently as she taps her wrist full of gold bracelets.
With a groan I yank open the door to the basement and rush down the stairs to grab my car keys. I hesitate a moment by my nightstand before opening the drawer and collecting all the papers with Drew’s notes.
It’s only a five minute drive to her apartment. I don't know what I can say to make her help after the way everything went down this week. I should tell her the truth but I'm not sure if that's something either one of us are ready to confront.
I knock on her door a few times and wait. The apartment complex is nice. It’s not one of the newer ones on campus but it looks like it’s well maintained and relatively safe. Why does that give me a sense of relief?
“Go away, Nash,” she yells through the door.
“I can’t do that. Not until I talk to you. If you don’t want to answer the door, fine. I’ll say what I need to from here and hope the message is clear.” I pause to see if she’ll let me in but I’m greeted with silence.
Here goes nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder with your dad. I should have told him we do this with you or not at all. I shouldn’t have left his office without him knowing it was you that had me seeing the game in a whole new light.”
One of her neighbors exits their apartment. I offer them a brief nod. I already know there’ll be gossip about this tomorrow. Hopefully they don’t know it’s Coach’s daughter behind the door. That’s all I need right now.
“Thank you,” I say, once the hallway clears. “Without you we probably would've lost the game.”
The door swings open. “Probably?” She glares up at me but I’m distracted by her oversized sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks.
Her long, blonde hair is free in loose waves that frame her face.
She's not wearing any makeup and all of her freckles I like so much are glowing in the fluorescent hallway lighting. It’s also impossible to miss the dark circles under her eyes. Is it from the lack of sleep or stress?
Stepping forward, I rest my shoulder against the door frame. “The team isn’t bad. We’re playoff contenders even without this.” I pull the rolled up papers from the back pocket of my jeans.
“Then do it without me. Go win Newhouse another championship.” She starts to close the door.
“I don’t want to do it without you,” I say, holding the door open with my forearm. Her eyes widen at my confession.
“Why?” Her tone is soft and lacks her usual confidence. I should tell her the team needs her. We did well enough following her basic notes. I can’t imagine how much better we’d be if she actually helped us run drills at practice .
She chews on her bottom lip, waiting for my response.
“Because…” Can I admit I want her there?
That the idea of seeing her on a regular basis quiets some of the anxiety I’ve been feeling ever since I was promoted to the starting QB position?
“Because you’re the only one who can do this.
No one else can look at a player and see what you see. ” No one else sees me the way you do.
“This is all true. I appreciate you saying so,” she says, giving me a small amount of hope. “Unfortunately, I’ve decided I don’t want to help anymore.” She lifts her chin.
“You don’t want to help? Why?”
“I just don’t. It no longer interests me.”
She turns her head when I move toward her.
“Did he say something?” I ask. Her jaw clenches and she swallows hard.
Placing a hand on her cheek, I gently tip her face toward mine.
“If he hurt you…” My train of thought drowns in a pool of fury.
I’m not sure what I would do if he hurt her mentally, physically, or emotionally. It’s all pain she doesn’t deserve.
Her hand wraps around my wrist and my pulse quickens with the contact.
“No, he didn’t hurt me,” she says, avoiding eye contact.
She removes my hand from her face. I hold my breath while counting the seconds she keeps my hand in hers before finally letting go.
Three but it felt like thousands. “I’m just not interested in helping anymore. It’s for the best.”
“I don’t believe you. This is exactly what you want to be doing and you know it.”
“Believe what you want. I’m not changing my mind. ”
“Okay.” I hand her the stack of papers that have now seen better days after being at practice all week and curled up in my pocket. I tip her chin until her green eyes are staring back at me. “Don’t let anyone steal your dreams. Especially not the man who should be encouraging them.”
She inhales a sharp breath. “Goodbye, Nash.”
“Goodnight, Drew,” I say, stepping back, allowing her to close the door to her apartment.
Goodbye feels too final. I can be okay with her not helping the team. But the idea of her just being someone I say hi to in passing? That scenario doesn’t sit well with me and I can’t pinpoint why.