Page 14 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)

“Yeah, you want to be ours next season?” Gage asks, but the question lacks conviction. He says the remark as if it's something that's expected of him. It has the desired effect on Nash as the tips of his fingers dig into my back. I can't stop myself from leaning into the contact.

“I don’t see why not. It’s just soccer. Not like it’s hard like real football,” I joke. Nash and Eli both laugh. I have a feeling arguing over which sport is superior is an everyday occurrence in their house.

“Funny. I like you,” Gage says, eliciting a growl out of Nash. It’s barely noticeable over the clanging of weights but I can feel his chest rumble against my shoulder.

“Should we get started?” Nash asks. The guys nod in agreement.

“Wait. I have two conditions.” I turn to face Nash. “We don’t tell my dad. He didn’t want my help and I don’t want him to know I’m giving it.”

“Okay, we won’t tell him.” He looks at Eli for confirmation. “We can use our gym time to workout with you. Coach doesn’t have to find out. What’s the second condition?”

“You have to join me for the post game celebration dinners with my dad.”

I barely made it through the last dinner I had with him.

He went on and on about how well Newhouse played and how they adapted to the opponents defense and offense like it was second nature.

Agreeing to help means living through that every week.

I’m not going to do it alone. What I’m really asking for is Nash’s support.

His tongue rolls over his bottom lip as he studies me. I swear my fucking right knee buckles. “Okay, but you have to come to our house for the after party.”

“Yeah come hang out with us, Drew,” Gage says then immediately starts groaning when Ozzy punches his arm. “What the fuck, bro? She’s not our coach’s daughter.” He rubs at his arm. Ozzy glares at him then nods to Nash. “Oh, sorry, man. I didn’t know.” He winks at me which irritates Nash even more.

I brush my fingers down his forearm to bring his attention back to me. “I agree. Now you just have to beat me.”

“Asher, what do you think? Can you take her on?” Nash asks, without cutting eye contact with me. “We need her help.”

Asher prattles on about how he’s been working out but he still has weak shoulders and bad knees as he gets into position for his first turn. Meanwhile I’m stuck reeling from the sincerity behind Nash’s words and the intensity of his brown eyes.

The first and second round we lifted fifty and seventy-five pounds. I can already feel the effects of squatting. Even if it’s only a few seconds.Nash’s taunting motivated me through the third round.

It’s clear Asher is an honorary roommate with the way the guys cheer for him when it’s his turn to squat and hold one hundred and twenty pounds. Veins begin to pop in his neck and his face turns red as he struggles to hold up two-thirds of his weight with his legs for the mandatory ten seconds.

“Time,” Ozzy says. Gage and Eli take the bar and rack it until I’m ready and in position. Asher walks away rolling his shoulders to find some relief.

“Your turn, Drew.” Gage slaps the side of the rack. Standing next to Nash, I massage my thighs to loosen up my muscles.

A hundred and twenty pounds is almost my full weight. It’s more than I’ve ever tried to hold in a squat before. You can do anything for ten seconds. I get into my spot. My thighs are already burning from the combination of the first three rounds and my morning workout.

Pushing my feet into the floor, I attempt to lift the bar and dip into a sitting squat. The strain is almost enough to make me nauseous. You can do this. Prove it to yourself. Do this for you. Closing my eyes, I release a slow breath.

“Time starts now,” Ozzy says, looking at his phone. Ten seconds doesn’t seem like a long period of time until you’re carrying the weight of a whole ass person on your back.

“Five seconds,” Ozzy updates me.

My eyes catch Nash’s standing off to the side. His face is a muddle of emotions. He smiles as if he’s proud of me but his eyes are tight with worry or is that fear? Is it the fear of me winning and no longer willing to help? Or is it something else?

“Four seconds.”

Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am. That working together will help Newhouse win games which will be amazing in itself but it also means …

“Three…”

We would be spending more time together. And for some reason I want to spend time with him. The guy who gets under my skin but also makes me feel something.

“Two…”

My thighs start to wobble and his eyes spark to life. “You got this. Hold tight for one more second,” he says.

His words should motivate me to keep going.

Instead, I admit defeat because he was cheering for me to win.

Eli and Gage grab the bar from my back and I fall into Nash’s waiting arms. His desire to win came second to me being victorious.

I’ve never had someone sit in my cheering section before and that means more to me than winning ever could.

“You did so good, baby,” he mumbles the words against my ear. I must be hallucinating from overstressing my body. Is that even possible? It has to be because I know he didn’t just call me that. I desperately wish he would say it again.

“I didn’t win.” Regrettably I peel myself out of his arms.

“I think we both won this one," he says, brushing my hair out of my face. There goes that million dollar smile of his again.

I can’t deny his statement. This does feel a lot like winning with the way he’s looking at me right now.