Page 12 of Mr. Irrelevant (Rock City Renegades #1)

“When I got there, I was named their third-string quarterback. I knew I’d have to prove myself, but no matter what I did, it was like I was just there to take up space on the bench.

I probably could’ve slept through practices and nobody would’ve noticed, but I didn’t.

I showed up and treated every day like it was another opportunity to reach my goals, until the coaches finally saw what I brought to the team and gave me a shot.

I broke school records that year, and even though I barely made it, I got drafted—and everything started all over again.

No matter how much work I put in, or what kind of player I am, I’m starting to think nobody will ever see me as anything more than Mr. Irrelevant. ”

I give him an understanding nod. Sadly, I know the feeling of being overlooked all too well.

That’s something we can relate to each other on, and it’s all the more reason to keep pushing forward with what we’re doing.

Tomorrow, we’ll continue working on his technique and speed, and I’ll get him where he needs to be so he can feel the rush of leading his team to victory.

But right now…I just want to make him feel better.

I sink into the couch cushions, leaning my head on his broad shoulder with a sigh.

It’s probably not a great idea to be cuddling up to him, considering the camera is off and this is really us, but he’s feeling defeated right now, and I want him to know he’s not alone.

To my surprise, he loops an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and making warmth bloom to life throughout my body.

I swear, it feels like I’ve known him for years with how comfortable it is, and how eager I am to get him back to the determined, positive guy I’ve been spending my midnights with.

“You’re so much more, Maddox,” I tell him. “I see it, and soon enough, they’ll be eating their words. One day, you’ll hoist that trophy over your head while the entire city screams your name, and I can’t wait to watch it all happen.”

His cheek presses to the top of my head, and he hums contentedly. His fingertips skate up and down my arm as we sit in silence for several minutes, while visions of him with black and purple confetti raining down as he takes it all in play in my mind. I’ll get him there, no matter what it takes.

“Thank you, Dimes,” he says, breaking me from my daydream.

“I’ve had a lot of coaches come and go, but I don’t think any of them have ever believed in me the way you do.

” I smile softly, grateful that he can’t see it with the way my cheeks warm and pinken.

I do believe in him. I think we’re building something special with the entire team.

It’s just going to take the world some time to see it, too.

“Also, none of them have ever fake dry-humped me on my couch before, so that’s a point in the Win column for you. ”

I choke on a laugh, playfully slapping his chest as I pull away.

He chuckles, not letting me go far before yanking me back into his side.

I relent, melting under his arm again, not hating the way it feels to be held like this.

“First of all, I did not dry hump you. What are we, teenagers? Nobody does that anymore. And secondly, that was strictly business, so I have something to shut Deacon up with if he doesn’t stop acting like an idiot. ”

“Wowwwww,” he says, drawing out the word.

“I almost feel bad for you if you haven’t had a good old fashioned dry hump recently.

It’s a very underrated type of foreplay, and one I happen to excel at.

” I stifle the pathetic whine that threatens to give away just how sad my sex life has been, even before Deacon and I split.

I wasn’t lying when I said there was no romance in our relationship, which lasted just over a year—and there definitely wasn’t any type of sexual exploration or adventure.

I had a whole list of things I was curious about, which he refused to even hear.

It wasn’t a dealbreaker for me or anything, but it would’ve been nice to try something new every now and then.

Desperate to change the subject so I can stop thinking about all the things he excels at , I switch back into football mode, gesturing toward the TV.

“I think we’re good for tonight. You played a great game, and as far as I’m concerned, you were robbed.

I hope every one of those refs steps on a Lego.

” His quiet laugh rumbles against me. “See if you can do some check-down drills with your receivers at practice tomorrow. Until your line gets stronger, you need to work on getting the pass off before the pocket collapses.”

“You got it, Coach,” he replies. “Can I walk you to your car?” I nod, and we both stand, making our way through the house.

Gathering my stuff, I lead him out the front door, stopping when we get to the driver’s side of my Mercedes.

As weird as it is, my instinct is to hug him goodbye, but with all the lines we crossed tonight—on camera and off—that’s probably not a great idea.

We can be friends, but I also need to remember what’s most important here…

showing the city that the Rock City Renegades are a force to be reckoned with.

We may not be ready to make a playoff run today, but we’ll get there, and we’ll make them proud.

I grip the door handle, hesitating for a moment before giving him a tight smile and pulling it open.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, backing away as I lower myself down into the seat and look up.

His mouth opens and closes as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

He just nods his head in affirmation, reaching out and carefully closing me inside.

Only then does he return my smile, and my heart beats wildly in my chest as I face forward, missing him already, even though he’s only about two feet away.

I exhale a shaky breath, pushing the ignition button and slowly driving away, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling, and racking my brain for a way to stop it.