Page 6 of The False Start (Off the Bench)

Chapter Four

CAL

T oday is not my day. Film this morning was a disaster.

We lost Sunday and the offensive coordinator had it out for me, specifically.

How I was supposed to simultaneously catch the ball and block the linebacker from sacking Blaze I’ll never know, but that’s what happens when you’re the new guy.

The expectations are high, and the respect is low.

Another thing my father was wrong about.

Respect is earned, especially as a professional athlete. It’s one of the things I love about the game. It’s hard to earn and easy to lose, the stakes are high but only for yourself.

My only comfort is the rest of the team is getting reamed out right along with me, even if not to the same extent. I mean, I get it, but even as hard as I’ve been working to learn the plays, I can’t plug my brain into the iPad and download the information.

If he’s going to call wildcard plays, I’m gonna fuck up, simple as that.

But now, after I finally sat down to relax—maybe with a nice whale documentary—someone is pounding on my door. I groan. Only four people have access to my condo through the building. My mother, my agent, Tori, and Theo.

With a pretty solid idea of who’s incessant knocking is setting my teeth on edge, I stalk to the door and fling it open to reveal Theo’s grinning face.

“What do you want?” I say, not entirely unkindly.

“Let’s go out. I wanna watch the game.”

“I really have no interest in watching more football tonight, especially if it’s accompanied by someone yelling. Even if it’s not at me.”

“Oh stop whining.” He smirks, shoving his foot in the door as I try to slam it in his face. Whining my ass.

“I thought it’d be fun, and I already made plans for us to meet there.”

“Us?”

“Aw, Callahan, are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” He makes a sad puppy dog face at me, blinking his eyes exaggeratedly.

“If you stop looking at me like that, I’ll go,” I agree, really just anything to get that look off his face. It’s disturbing. I won’t be able to sleep for at least a week.“No grown man should be able to make your eyes look that pathetic.”

“That’s the spirit!” He drops the face and steps into my home, looking me up and down. “Go change. I’ll wait.”

“Are you serious?” I look down at my clothes, a plain black t-shirt and grey joggers. “What’s wrong with this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I blink at him.

“Just go change. I’ll call an Uber.”

I grunt, stomping off to my room to put on jeans and a flannel.

Theo gives me yet another once over as I emerge from my room. “Great, let’s go.” Seriously, how many times is this guy gonna check me out today? I follow him through my building silently, secretly hoping he runs into a wall or a glass door the way his nose is buried in his phone.

The Uber drops us off in Wrigleyville, frat party central of the city, at a sports bar just divey enough that I’m hesitant to eat anything that comes from the kitchen. Awesome. This is exactly the relaxing environment I was craving. I scowl at Theo.

“Really? This is where we just had to go?” I ask incredulously.

He ignores me, walking straight into the bar and sitting himself at a table toward the back of the room with a view of the giant screen showing the pregame show for Monday Night Football.

I sigh, walking up to the bar, and order a whiskey.

With a wince, I down it immediately before signaling for another and handing over my black card. “Keep it open.”

The bartender nods, and I head over to the table Theo’s picked out, settling in for a painful game featuring my former team playing their biggest divisional rivals. We watch the pregame in silence as the bar starts to fill.

People will really watch anything for a drink special.

“You think the Cosmos are gonna pull it off tonight?” Theo asks as the starting lineup pops up on the screen.

I shrug. “A few weeks ago I would’ve said yes on principle, but realistically?

The Miami coach is changing the game, not to mention that while Jackson might be good, he’s not me.

” Kenny Jackson is the rookie tight end who, thanks to my trade a few weeks ago, has been starting for the team, and his showing is about what you’d expect from a big-ten rookie.

“Theo!” a female voice calls over the ever-increasing noise in the bar, and we both turn to see a tiny woman hustling toward us, her black hair swinging about her face.

“Katie, glad you made it.” Theo gives her a one arm hug as she sits next to him.

“Callahan.” She pins me with a look and I’m back in sixth grade being scolded for taking her favorite pen.

“Katherine.”

She rolls her eyes. “Lila’s not here yet?”

I choke on my drink, and they both look at me as I splutter between coughs. “You didn’t tell me she was coming.”

“I didn’t realize it’d be a problem.” His face is the picture of innocence, even as Katie looks smug.

“It’s not,” I say dismissively, waving it off and turning my attention back to the game. “Just didn’t realize you girls liked football.”

“Well I don’t, but Lila does. She even has this fantasy thing she’s super into.”

I gape at her. Lila plays fantasy football? I shove down the immediate need to check her lineup.

“Ah, there she is!” Katie squeals, pointing to the door, where Lila Summers is standing, glancing around the crowd. She spots us, a look I can’t place flitting across her face when she sees me sitting here. I try to tamp down the little match of hope that ignites that it might be joy.

I drink her in as she walks toward us, too focused on the people around her to notice me watching her.

She’s wearing tight dark jeans that hug her curves perfectly and a leather jacket giving her just a touch of an edge I wouldn’t mind cutting myself on.

Her blonde hair flows down her back and to her waist, held back by a pair of black sunglasses.

“Hey.” She nods at me as she gets to the table and takes a seat facing the screen. She turns to Katie, giving her a quick hug.

“You came,” Katie says.

Lila rolls her eyes. “Of course I came. You know I’d be watching the game anyway. It’s a big fantasy week, and you said you’re buying.”

“Theo’s buying.” Katie tosses a smirk at him.

He gives an exaggerated sigh and ushers them to the bar to buy a round, though I have a sneaking suspicion it’ll somehow end up on my tab when I check it at the end of the night.

“So, a big fantasy week, huh?” Katie asks once they’re settled with drinks.

“I’m playing Colton.”

Katie’s face twists in disgust. I’m about to ask who Colton is when Theo butts in.

“I didn’t know you played fantasy. Is it a work league?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yup.”

“Can I see your lineup?”

She eyes him warily but opens her phone, “Don’t touch it,” she warns passing the phone to him, the ESPN app open to her current players.

“You don’t have me,” he says with a pout. She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but be curious if she has me on her lineup, if she was disappointed this week like everyone else.

“Sorry, Theo, bad draft pick.” She shrugs.

“Travis Kelce as your tight end?” he asks, and I sit up straighter. Of course she’d have Kelce. It couldn’t be someone I’d actually have a chance against.

“I mean, would you have chosen differently?” She laughs. Ouch. The blow hits like a lead hammer.

“Take a look at her bench,” Theo says indifferently as he passes me the phone, but there’s an edge in his eyes I don’t like. I scroll down, and there it is—John Basset (TE).

I clench my jaw, eyes glued to the screen as something in my gut twists uncomfortably.

I can’t look away from my name on her roster.

It dawns on me that she might have no idea that it’s me.

She knows I play football, but without my given first name, I’m not sure she’d really make the connection.

My tiny unflattering photo on ESPN still shows me in my blue Cosmos uniform since I haven’t had an updated media session yet.

Her voice breaks me from my pity party.

“You know, I’m undefeated so far this season,” she says with a huff, “and I need to win this week. I’m playing this extremely irritating guy at work, so it matters. At least to me.” She holds out her hand for her phone back, but I can’t make myself give it back.

I can’t stop the words that tumble out of my mouth.

“Why is Basset on your bench?” I ask quietly. Theo gives me a look, pity in his eyes, and my stomach roils. I’m a tight end in the NFL. I don’t need pity because some girl didn’t start me in her lineup.

“Well,” she starts, with the air of explaining something simple to a child, “Kelce has a better record and better stats this season, so, he starts.” My stomach sinks further, but she’s not wrong.

Although they play him like an extra receiver more often than not, so it’s not a fair comparison, but if it’s about points, she’s right.

“Basset is definitely the better player. He just might not put up the same points as Kelce,” Theo points out, ever the wingman. She snorts in response, sipping from the seltzer in her hand.

Her eyes zone into the game as we watch the first three quarters, even as mine can’t seem to leave her face. She cheers at all the right moments, nearly upending the table when the Miami wide receiver scores.

“I won!” she shouts, jumping up.

“Congrats, babe,” says Katie, with barely a flicker of emotion.

Lila’s staring at her phone scrolling when I decide I can’t not tell her.

If I wait much longer it’ll be a thing, and I don’t want it to be a thing.

If she’s that into football, she’ll figure it out in about a week.

Unless she never sees me again, but for some reason that doesn’t feel like an option.

“Hey so I think I should just set the record straight—” I start, but she gives me an apologetic look and answers a call.

“Hey,” she says.“I’m just out with Katie, we’re watching the game.

”There’s a pause and mumbling on the other end of the line.

“Well, I do. And besides, Theo’s here and his friend Cal.

”I hear an angry voice on the end of the line and stiffen.

“Oh my god, can you calm down please?” she hisses, glancing around.

She flushes when she catches my eye and looks down at the table with a frown.

Even only hearing her half of the conversation, it doesn’t seem to be going well.

“Hang on,” she says to the phone, before turning to us. “I’m sorry I need to take this, but I’ll be back.” With that she heads back through the bar and outside to the street.

“Ugh, it must be Dennis.” Katie grimaces.

“Dennis?” I can’t help but ask.

“Her ex—well, for now at least.” She rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t really like Theo, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like you either if he met you.”

I bristle. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“No, but you look like that”—she waves a hand in my general direction—“so it doesn’t actually matter if he knows you or not.”

I roll my eyes and glance out the window. I can make out Lila talking quickly into the phone, hunched into herself and face crumpling. I know right then that I never want to be the reason she looks like that.