Page 17 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)

NASH

Professor Castillo clicks on the remote in his hand, producing another slide of questions for us to copy for an upcoming quiz. I glance at the clock. Only five more minutes left. His sport marketing class is one of my favorites this semester.

As interesting as this class is, I’d prefer to be spending time with Drew.

Other than practice with the guys, I haven’t seen much of her the past week.

She’s been busy with classes and she started working part-time at The Round Table.

Even when she’s not working, I can sometimes catch her there studying.

I pack up my things before class gets dismissed. I’ve started to sit in the front row by the door of all my classes so I can be the first one to leave. My dad told me years ago when I was starting to get serious about sports that I had to make opportunities for myself. They wouldn’t be given to me.

He would roll his eyes and laugh if he knew I was applying his logic to getting a girl to date me but it still applies.

Drew’s confident but she’s also hesitant and unsure when it comes to letting me in.

I sense it every time we’re together. She might let me get close but she’s still standing on the other side of a glass wall.

Professor Castillo dismisses us with a reminder on our reading assignment and a paper due at the end of next week.

I should probably not wait to start that until the last minute like I usually do.

I bolt out the door and speed walk across campus, keeping an eye out for Drew just in case my instincts are wrong about her.

Entering The Round Table, I’m immediately hit with the sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries and bread. A few students are sprinkled around the small cafe but there’s only one I’m interested in finding. I scan the room looking for a ponytail of blonde hair.

I spot her reading a textbook and typing notes on her laptop. I step in line and order myself a croissant sandwich and a cinnamon roll for my girl. That was the first and only thing she ate off the plate of food I made her last week.

“Is this seat taken?” I ask, standing by the empty side of the booth she’s sitting in. It’s a small two seater in the back away from the kitchen and the chattier customers who tend to sit by the front windows looking out on campus.

“Now it is.” She smiles as she closes her book and laptop and stacks them on the far side of the table against the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” I slide the cinnamon roll in front of her.

“Thanks but you should have let me get this with my employee discount.” She swipes her finger in the cream cheese icing that’s dripping off the side of the plate and brings it to her mouth, sucking it clean. My eyes linger on her lips until they curl into a smirk.

Moving my gaze to her eyes, I say, “I got the popular athlete discount.”

Her head tilts. “We have one of those?”

“I don't think they tell everyone. Only a select few get it.” I wink.

“Must be nice to be Nash Pierce,” she teases, tearing a piece of her roll off with a fork and popping it into her mouth.

“I have my moments. This being one of them.”

“Getting discounted pastries? You should really get out more.”

I bump her leg with mine under the table. “No, spending time with you.” I take a bite of my croissant sandwich and smile back at her. She nods and quietly goes back to her food.

“What were you working on?” I nod to her laptop.

“A project for one of my statistics classes.”

“Have you always been interested in math? It was one of my worst subjects in school. If it wasn’t for my sister helping me, I probably wouldn’t have survived algebra.”

“Not always. I didn’t find it interesting until high school. I had a really good teacher that made it fun. I saw math differently.”

“What do you mean?” I take a sip of my water.

“Math is dependable. It’s constant. You can’t manipulate math.

There are no variables that could change the outcome.

Two plus two always equals four. Math never let me down,” she mumbles as her knee bounces.

I trap it in between mine, making her green eyes widen in surprise before she relaxes into my touch.

“And statistics? How did you get started in that?” Every answer she gives helps me understand her better.

I’ve never heard of anyone finding comfort in math.

It only gave me headaches. But when you’re living with a parent who's unpredictable, I imagine it would be nice having something you know won’t disappoint you.

“I began tracking football stats in high school. I started with only one or two things like how many times a team would use a certain play or how often they converted on fourth downs. Then it escalated.” She shrugs.

“You could say that.” I laugh thinking of her in depth analysis of each player on the team. She knows everything. I bet she could tell me how many times I take a breath before I throw a pass.

“What about you? Why’d you pick sports management?” She eats the last bite of her roll and scrapes the icing off the plate with the fork.

“Those who can’t do, teach. Isn’t that the saying?”

“It is, but was the draft ever not the end game?”

I want to tell her that as of about two months ago she became the end game. “Yes, but no one is spared from career ending injuries. I also liked the idea of knowing how the business side of sports worked to help me make the best decisions for my own career.”

“That’s smart. ”

I nod in agreement. “With every opportunity to make money, there are people waiting to take advantage of you.”

“Is that something you’re worried about? People using you for your fame or what might come in the future.”

“I think I would be an idiot not to be cautious of people.” I eat the last of my sandwich and wipe my hands with a napkin. Tossing it on my plate, I move all the trash to the edge of the table.

“I’m also good at reading people. I’ve been able to surround myself with friends who have my best interests at heart. I know what’s important. That’s something I don’t want to forget no matter where my career takes me.”

“And what’s that?” she asks, absentmindedly playing with the gold bracelet on her wrist.

Leaning my forearms on the table, I say, “Family. My friends. Football won’t always be there but I know they will.”

She leans back in the booth, but I grab her hand before she moves too far away. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

Shaking her head, she watches where my thumb glides over her knuckles.

“Nothing. Just that it’s nice you have close friends like that.

We moved around so much for my dad’s job I never found my place.

There were always kids I was friendly with but nothing stuck.

I got really good at not letting people in because I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were moving again. ”

“You have a place here at Newhouse.” You have a place with me.

“I do like it here. ”

“And the people? Do you like the people here?” I squeeze her hand.

“I do. Frankie’s great. And Eli is really nice. Lucas and Adrian too,” she says, naming off more of my teammates. “Asher makes me laugh.”

“Are you leaving me off your list on purpose or saving the best for last? And for the record I’m funny when I want to be.”

She laughs at my childish behavior. She stirs up a jealous side of me I didn’t know I had. I want to be the one making her laugh and smile. I want to be the one that makes her feel like she finally belongs somewhere.

“Time will tell I guess.” She grins. “I know you’re funny”—she squeezes my hand—“but you also don’t ask me absurd questions every time we’re together.”

“That’s because I would rather ask you something real,” I admit.

“Like what?”

It’s difficult to come up with one question when I want her to tell me everything. I try to think back to some of the more serious questions Asher has asked me over the years. He comes up with the most random things sometimes.

She squirms slightly in her seat, waiting for me to speak. “Would you rather fast forward or rewind your life?” I ask, hoping she’ll open up about her past or give a better picture of what she wants in her future.

“Does going back change the past or does it stay the same?” She bites down on her lower lip.

“Would it make a difference?” I wonder. She nods. “Then it stays the same.”

One of her co-workers stops by our table and collects our trash. We both say thank you and the girl winks at Drew making her grin. She stares down at our hands or maybe she’s looking at her bracelet.

“Fast forward. I don’t want to go back,” she says, swallowing hard.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll miss something if you time travel to the future?”

“You’re making me choose one and reliving the past isn’t something I’m interested in doing. I would rather keep moving forward even if that means not experiencing things first hand.” She glances at the time on her phone. “I should probably get going.”

I stand from the table. “I’ll walk you to your next class,” I say, not wanting to say goodbye to her yet.

“It’s on the other side of campus.” She packs up her laptop and books into her bag. Before she can throw the strap over her shoulder, I take it from her and settle it on mine.

“That’s fine. It gives us more time to talk.” Taking her hand in mine, I escort her out the door. “If you’re set on fast forwarding to the future, would you rather miss our first kiss or Newhouse winning the national championship?”

“Well I’m not missing the championship game.” She wraps her free hand around my bicep and pulls me closer. “You’ll have to tell me what our first kiss was like.” Her eyes gleam with mischief but her words are a confirmation of a future with her.

“I can do that.”

“What about you? What would you rather do, rewind or fast forward?”

“I’m rewinding.” I kiss her on her forehead when she stops in front of the mathematics building. “There’s no way I’m missing one second of time with you.”