Page 15 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)

NASH

“Why are we meeting here instead of the field?” Eli asks, taking a seat on the couch in our living room.

We both expected to be joining her on our practice field by the gym.

She texted me yesterday asking to move the training session to our house and to only invite a few key players on offense and defense.

“I don’t know.” She didn’t give a reason. I assured her no one would find out about our practices but she still insisted on it being here.

The doorbell chimes and I practically knock over the coffee table to answer it. My glare does nothing to cut off Eli’s deep chuckle.

“Morning,” Adrian, one of our running backs, enters the house carrying a box from The Round Table. Lucas and Chris follow close behind with their arms full of baked goods and boxes of coffee.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Trey when I notice him at the end of the line.

“I invited him,” Eli replies.

Trey’s eye is finally back to normal. I’ve kept my distance at practice and around campus the best I can. I sit at the opposite end of the table when we eat together as a team and ignore him at the gym. The only place I can’t avoid him is practice.

I don’t know what Eli was thinking letting him come into our house knowing Drew was going to be here too.

“Who’s idea was it to bring food?” Eli asks as they march into the house.

“Mine,” Drew yells, as she locks her car while balancing another box of baked goods.

“Did you leave anything for the rest of campus?” I race down the steps to grab the bags for her.

“I might have gone a little overboard.” Her eyes drop to the box in her hands and a cute blush coats her cheeks.

“It won’t go to waste. You didn’t have to bring food.” I place my hand on the back of her neck and give it a quick squeeze. My desire to have my hand—or a fucking fingertip—on her is growing stronger by the day.

“I know. I just…I thought it would help get the guys to like me.” Her eyes dart toward the kitchen where everyone is piling pastries onto their plates and putting cream cheese on bagels.

“B-Drew, they’re going to like you because you’re you. You’re here to help us in your free time when you don’t have to.” Dammit. I almost slipped and called her baby again. It feels natural to do it as if she’s mine already. Maybe she is .

"You say that now but once I point out everything you need to fix you might start hating me. The baked goods are here to sweeten you up first.”

“Who says I don’t hate you already?” I tease her and place the bags on the kitchen island. Lucas snags it immediately and brings it over to the table. “Save some for Drew.” I nudge his arm.

“I guess you didn’t. We should get started.” She snaps into action and heads toward the living room. I grab her arm and pull her into the hallway.

“The only thing I hate right now is the fact I have to share you with all of them this morning. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees, but I’m not convinced she believes me. Her trust is something I’m going to have to earn. My dad taught me that words are meaningless unless they’re followed up by action. I'll show her that I mean every word I say.

“Now we can get started. Let me introduce you to everyone.” I escort her into the living room. I love the way she leans into my hand when I place it on her back. She can get the guys to like her all she wants but she’s my girl. Coach’s daughter be damned. I’ll ask for forgiveness later.

“Adrian, Chris, Trey, and Lucas,” Drew says, pointing to each guy stuffing their faces on my couch. “I’m pretty familiar with everyone.”

“Hi, Drew. Thanks for the sweets.” Adrian holds up some flaky thing covered in red jam and winks.

“No problem. Good to see you again. ”

“Again?” I ask, getting more irritated by the second. “When did you see him the first time?”

Adrian smirks at me knowing he’s getting me riled up.

I told all of them in my text to be on their best behavior.

I did it under the guise of her being Coach’s daughter and we needed to be respectful.

I wasn’t asking for Coach. I was asking for me.

I wanted them to respect her because she deserves it.

Bet or not, she doesn't have to do this.

“We have a class together.” Drew retrieves a laptop from her bag and turns on the television. “WiFi password?” she asks. Eli answers her before I get the chance. He’s doing this on purpose. He knows exactly which buttons to push.

Similar to Eli, I've never made a fuss over the girls I dated in the past, not that Drew and I are dating. I haven’t even asked her out yet.

She doesn’t even know I’m interested in her like that.

The fact that I spent most of last night cleaning the living room, kitchen, and bathroom for this meeting showed Eli my full hand.

I need to get it together. She’s here to help all of us, not for my personal enjoyment. Reluctantly I leave Drew in the living room with the guys while she sets up her computer.

Selecting a few donuts, several little pie things, and a cinnamon roll I make myself a plate and a second for Drew. It annoys me that I don’t know what she likes. “Not anymore,” I grumble to myself and make sure to put one of everything on her plate.

“Here. This is for you.” I set her plate on the coffee table by her laptop. I sound like a damn caveman.

“Uh, thanks.” Her eyes bulge at all the pastries I've piled on top of each other. “I can’t eat all of this.”

“I’ll help you.” Lucas leans over to steal a donut off the top. I slap his hand away.

“Those aren’t for you,” I say, making her giggle. I glance over at her and smile. Damn, I like that sound.

I slide in behind her where she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor and drop in my usual spot on the couch. My sock covered feet slip under her thighs. Her fingers pause over the keyboard before she settles against me and continues typing again.

“Alright,” Drew starts. “I have everything ready.” She digs into her bag and pulls out a stack of papers. “We’ll start with the defense. Because—”

“Defense is your best offense,” we all say in unison.

“Right. I guess that one has been drilled into your heads by my dad too.” Lifting herself off the ground, she hands out a stapled packet to each of my friends. Adrian stares at her ass a little too long and I smack him on the back of the head with the papers Drew placed in my lap.

“Coach’s daughter,” I remind him. Something I should be reminding myself but for some reason I have it in my mind that this rule doesn’t apply to me.

“I want everyone to watch this clip. Tell me what you see.” Drew has somehow set up her computer to cast onto the television. I didn’t know we could do that. She presses play on her laptop and we all watch a twenty second clip of the Alabama game last week .

She pauses the video and leans back against my calves. “Well?” she asks as her hair tickles my leg.

Eli squirms in his seat and shrugs. Everyone else is silent as well, making her sigh. “Watch again,” she says, leaning forward to press play. When she doesn’t lean against my legs again, I tap her shoulder and gently pull her back. Clearing her throat, she says, “Watch his feet.”

“You mean when he lifts his left leg?” Adrian asks.

“And what’s their play?” She looks back at him over her shoulder. Her cheek grazes my knee shooting a bolt of lightning up my thigh.

“He throws deep,” he replies.

“Now watch this next play.”

“Nothing,” Eli answers. “And a run play.”

“Wrong.” She smirks at him. She plays it again at half speed this time. “See how he dips his knees? It’s a run play but also a reverse. He does it every time.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone can see it on their line.”

“He doesn’t do it on purpose. It’s a habit.

A tick. He could be visualizing the play before the snap.

Any number of things. It’s barely noticeable but it’s there if you pay attention.

It’s all in the packet. Every play, every player, every move they make is in there.

Now I want you to look at another player and tell me what you see. ”

Drew clicks around on her computer and in no time she has a Newhouse game on the screen.

Only it isn’t a game. It’s a compilation of all my passing plays since I became a starter.

My skin begins to itch beneath the surface and I shift in my seat.

She wraps her arm around my calf and grazes her fingers up and down my leg in steady strokes.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Lucas asks.

“How long are you waiting for the ball on this play?” She rewinds the tape back with one hand, refusing to take the other off of me.

“Maybe one or two seconds,” he replies.

“And what side of the field were you on?”

“The right.”

“What about this play? Same thing,” she says.

“Five seconds on the left.”

“Those extra seconds could mean the difference between a first down and a sack. Fifty-four percent of the offensive plays in your playbook are on the left side of the field.”

“What’s taking you so long to throw the ball, QB?” Trey asks, patronizing me. If he wants to get a rise out of me it won’t work. I don’t care what he says about me. I’m good as long as he keeps Drew’s name out of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” I answer through gritted teeth. Drew removes her arm from around my leg and pulls up more game footage. Fucking fantastic .

She takes them through our top five running plays and what each player does that might give our opponent’s defense a clue as to what play we called. And then she starts up footage of Alabama’s defense. I know I should pay attention but I begin to zone out.

It makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one with issues to fix. The problem is I don’t know how to fix mine. I don’t know how to get out of my head to do what needs to be done and get the play off on time.

“Excuse me.” I leave my plate on the arm of the couch and step over Drew to go to the hall bathroom. I need a minute. I splash water on my face and lean over the sink. I’d rather stare at the sun than look at myself in the mirror.

There’s a timid knock on the door and I already know she’s on the other side. I turn the knob, leaving it ajar for her, and move out of her way so she can slip inside.

“I’m having déjà vu. We should really stop meeting like this,” I say.

Her grin eases some of the tension in my chest.

“The guys went home or to the gym to workout.” She drops back against the vanity. “I don’t think they liked watching game film. They got bored faster than I expected.”

“I told them we were doing it your way.”

She nods. “Are you alright?”

I shake my head.

“Can I do something to help?”

“Like what? Kiss it and make it better?”

Her skin flushes under her cotton shirt. “That’s not what I was suggesting. I’m not going to let you kiss me for the first time in the bathroom.”

“Where would you let me kiss you?” I ask, crowding her.

“Anywhere you wanted.”

A humorless laugh leaves my mouth. I drop my head against hers and cage her against the counter.

She has no idea how many places I would love to leave a trail of kisses on her body.

I press her tighter against the counter, making her gasp when she feels how easily she turns me on.

“But just not in the bathroom,” I whisper.

“For the first time, no, not in the bathroom.” She places one hand on my chest and the other toys with my necklace dangling in between us.

"Should we go somewhere else then?” I tease. I enjoy watching her skin heat. I wonder what else I could say or do to make her flush.

“Nash,” she gasps and slaps my chest. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sighing, I pull away from her. I can’t talk to her about football with my hard dick wedged between her thighs. “How do I push past this fear I have of fucking everything up?”

“What’s the worst thing that happens if you get an interception?”

“They go up six or seven points.”

“And even that is a maybe. When you played in high school, what were you thinking about when you were on the field?”

“I had nothing to lose then. I was already signed to play at Newhouse.”

“They could have taken it back. You didn’t get here by default. You’re here because you’re the best. My dad could have picked one of the other backup quarterbacks when Matt got hurt but he didn’t. He picked you.” She pokes me in the chest. I grab her hand and intertwine our fingers.

“Get out of your head, stop tapping your thigh when you’re throwing long passes, and trust your instincts. ”

“Are you coming to the game?” She hasn’t attended one yet this season. I don’t blame her. After everything that went down with me and her dad, I’m sure it's the last place she wanted to be. But I want her there. I think I need her there.

“I don’t have tickets.”

“Your dad can get you tickets,” I say. Her head drops and she bites on her lip. She doesn’t want to ask. Damn him for putting this fear of rejection in her head. I tip her chin. “I’ll get you tickets.”

“One for Frankie too?”

“One for Frankie too,” I agree. Hopefully Eli won’t mind her being at the game.

“Then I’ll be there. But you have to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Play like the man I know you are. Play like Nash Pierce. The man who earned the right to lead this team. You carry all this pressure on your shoulders but you’re strong enough to handle it.”

“How do you know?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her.

“Because I’ve seen you do it. I know what you’re capable of remember.” She grins at me.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

She leans forward and kisses the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes and savor the feel of her lips against my skin. It’s a small taste but confirms everything I’ve been feeling.

Drew is my girl.