Page 32 of The Game Plan (Game On #3)

Rolondo laughs. “Yeah, he is.” He gestures to the screen. “I’m gonna have mine blown up and hung over my bed.”

“Typical,” Johnson says. “How’d you pose for yours? Doing one of your showboating dances?”

“Holding a football in front of his dick while he strikes one of his showboating poses,” I deadpan.

“Fucking hot as hell,” Rolondo assures.

“I’m not letting Anna see these.” Drew shakes his head. “She’ll be all over me to do one too. But yeah, man. There’s an article

here.” He hits the screen, and it goes back to another page. “They’re calling you the hot, tatted, sensitive centennial of

football. Apparently, your pic got the most hits.”

“What? Sexy Dexy got more hits than me? Oh, hell no.” Rolondo scowls and pulls out his phone, apparently checking all the

articles himself.

I roll my eyes.

Drew’s mouth turns down at the corners as he reads. “It was that fucker Randolph Norris who said you were a virgin.”

Norris was a nose tackle who played for the rival college team we beat in our last two conference championships. He and I

faced off several times, and he always came away looking like a chump. To say we dislike each other is putting it mildly.

And since he’d played for a college only ten miles from ours, he was privy to the local gossip.

“Fucking ass stain,” Johnson mutters. “I hated that guy.”

“He was drafted by New Orleans this year,” I add. “But Coach cut him during the last round of training camp. Rumor was Coach didn’t like Norris’s attitude.”

“Because it sucked,” Rolondo mutters. “Nearly snapped Finn’s head off during a light practice.”

Putting the health of the starting QB in danger because you’re showing off in practice isn’t a smart move. Thank Christ I

don’t have him on my team anymore.

“He’s bitter and clearly hates Dex,” Drew says. “He had loads to say—about how Dex never went out with any women, or dudes.

How our college called him the patron saint of football. How people took bets on when he’d lose his V card.”

“Did they?” I ask.

They all give me hesitant glances. I guess so. I’m not really pissed at them, but it fucking irks to realize people have been

talking about me this whole time.

And now the public is too.

I sit back with a sigh. “Put it away. I’m going to get indigestion before I even have a chance to eat.”

“And we all know you do not come between Dex and his meals.” Johnson wags a finger.

“No, that’s you,” I say.

“True that.” Rolondo grins wide.

“Man, you should, like, star in The Bachelor ,” Johnson says. “I can see it now.” His voice drops. “This season, on a very special NFL Bachelor... ”

“That’s your favorite show, isn’t it?” Drew asks with a grin. “I bet you watch it at night and just cry when he sends some

poor girl home.”

We all laugh as Johnson turns red, his fair skin unable to hide his flush. “Do not.”

“Excellent comeback,” I tell him.

“Anyway,” Drew says. “Dex can’t go on that show. He’s already got a girl.”

“No shit?” Johnson looks at me like I’ve grown two heads.

“Yep,” Drew answers for me. “Fiona Mackenzie. Ivy’s little sister.”

“The cute blonde who took her dress off at the wedding?” Johnson’s expression borders on a leer.

“Hey,” I warn. “Just wipe that right the fuck out of your memory.”

Drew shakes his head. “See? Gone on her already.”

I drink my water and endure a round of kissing noises. “You kids done?”

Johnson wags his tongue in a lewd manner. “Now I’m done.”

“Bunch of juveniles,” I mutter. But I’m not mad. I’ve missed this. I missed my guys.

Rolondo frowns. “If you’re with Fiona now, this whole virgin-hunt thing goes out the door.”

“No,” I say with force. “I don’t want Fi anywhere near this. The press does not get a piece of her.”

“I respect that,” Rolondo says. “But you know that what you want and what the public takes are two different things, my friend.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I hate the fear creeping over my shoulders. There are things I can’t protect Fiona from, and it

frustrates the hell out of me.

We eat dinner and gossip. I’m not afraid to admit it’s pure gossip: who’s done what knuckle-headed thing, which coaches suck,

which don’t.

And of course, war stories. How we’ve manned up in the face of pain and adversity and made spectacular plays, which are always

ten times more impressive in the retelling, as if we don’t all watch Sports Center highlights and know when one of us is lying

out of his ass.

By the time the waiter slides a dessert that consists of chocolate in five different forms in front of me, I’m almost normal

again.

Johnson scowls at his plate. “It’s so tiny. Everything here is tiny.”

“It’s gourmet,” Rolondo says, picking up his spoon.

“Who picked this place, anyway?” Johnson complains.

“I did.” I slide a spoonful of dark chocolate mousse into my mouth and almost groan. Damn. Fi needs to come here with me.

And like that, I’m missing her again. I ignore the emotion and glare at my guys. “It’s delicious. Order another one if you’re

still hungry.”

Rolondo laughs and eats while Johnson mutters about me being some sort of metrosexual.

“Lumbersexual,” I counter, getting a look of horror from Johnson. I shrug. “That’s what Fi says, anyway.”

“Why would she say you like having sex with lumberjacks?” Johnson asks with a confused frown.

Rolondo throws a napkin at his head. “Man, you don’t know jack about jack.”

“Lumberjacks?”

We all groan.

Except Drew, who doesn’t say a word. He hasn’t even noticed his dessert. He’s way too fidgety and practically glued to his

phone screen, which isn’t like him.

“Why do you keep looking at your phone?” I ask him. “Shit, is there more bad press? Am I now up for grabs for both sexes?”

“I’d do you,” Rolondo puts in with a grin.

“You’re too high-maintenance for me.”

“This is true.” ’Londo nods and looks me over. “I’d most definitely make you shave that beard. I’m not into bears.”

I shrug. “We were never meant to be.”

Johnson rolls his eyes. “I don’t care if I sound like a dick. This whole exchange is bizarre.”

“You always sound like a dick,” Rolondo says. “We’re used to it.”

He ducks a chunk of bread Johnson pings at him. An older couple across the way turns to stare.

“Ladies,” I say mildly, “mind your manners. This isn’t the college bar.”

“Yes, Mom.” Johnson sits back and looks around. “Why is it that we aren’t in a bar? I mean, yeah, we got money now. But this

place is making my shoulders itch.”

“I’m checking the place out,” I tell them. “It’s for sale, and Gray, Drew and I are thinking about investing in restaurants.”

“Seriously?” Johnson looks surprised.

“We need something to fall back on. We aren’t going to play forever.”

Since the three of us love to eat, we thought about the restaurant business. Gray and Drew have been looking at places on

the west and east coasts, respectively.

I glance at Drew. “If a certain QB would get his face out of his phone and taste the food, it would be much easier to do.”

Drew lifts his head. “The atmosphere is a little staid, but the food is good, and the place is packed.”

“Agreed,” I say. “It always is, but I’d make changes.”

Drew nods, then drifts back to his phone.

Rolondo shrugs. “As long as we don’t go to one of Johnson’s strip bars, I’m cool with anything.”

“You’d rather we go to one of your strip bars?” Johnson asks.

“Naw, wouldn’t want you to develop a complex about your shortcomings, man.”

“There ain’t nothing short on me. And when I make a lady come, it takes all night.”

“Takes all night to make her come? Yeah, I’d buy that.”

As Rolondo and Johnson bait each other, I glance back at Drew, who is still eyeing his phone and being awfully quiet. “Seriously,

Baylor, I’m about to confiscate that thing.”

He raises a brow at me, and gives me his old, innocent grin—which I am not falling for. “You really are a mom, aren’t you?”

“As I recall, you played the role of Mom. I was Dad.”

“Doesn’t that mean we’re on a date now? And all I get is this lousy dinner?” Drew leans his arms on the table. “Where are my flowers?”

“I’ll make it up to you with sweet talk later. Now answer the question, Battle. What the hell is up with the phone?”

As if I’ve activated it, the damn thing lights up, and Drew glances down. He fights to hide his smile. “What can I say? I’m

totally pussy whipped by my wife-to-be. That’s right. I’m replacing you with Anna.” With that, he presses his palms to the

tabletop. “Gentlemen, time to wrap this up. I have a phone date to get to.”

Oddly, the guys don’t go the obvious route and give Drew shit. They glance at me and then at each other—not exactly subtle,

though I know they think they are.

“What now?” I ask, glaring around.

“Nothing, man,” Rolondo assures. “Stop being so uptight. It isn’t all about you, D.” His expression says different, but I

let it slide.

Johnson pulls out some bills. “My treat this time, yeah?”

“Excuse me while I take in this moment,” Rolondo says expansively, his arms open wide. “Johnson—punk ass, cheap motherfucker

Johnson—is paying.”

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Johnson says with a laugh. “We meeting up for coffee in the morning?”

“Yeah, man,” Rolondo says. “I’ll pay that.”

“Talk about cheap.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, boy.”

“And the cheapest.”

“I’ll pay every meal for the season’s meet-ups if you two will shut up now,” Drew says.

Since graduation, we’ve made it a point to meet up a few times a year. Sometimes there are more of us, sometimes less. Mostly

we meet when we’re playing a game against each other. But the Red Dog team will always be brothers.

Drew is hurrying us along, all but pushing Johnson toward the door.

I’ve always envied what Drew has with Anna. Not the sex, but the knowledge that there was someone he belonged to. Even when

he was suffering when they first got together, I envied him. Because his emotions with her were real. Honest.

My whole life feels like one long fog of numbness, punctuated by manufactured pain. The tats, the piercing, hard hits on the

field—all of them ways to make me feel something other than bland indifference.

But with Fi, I’m alive. I anticipate every single breath because it’s another moment closer to getting back to her.

I follow the guys out, but my mind is on Fi, and the ache around my heart grows. I miss her so much that at first I think

I’m imagining her leaning against the side of a black town car.

A balmy southern breeze drifts over the road, lifting the ends of her golden hair and making the skirt of her dress sway.

She’s wearing a white sundress dotted with brilliant red cherries. That dress with the little teasing red bow just below her

breasts. That dress has haunted me for what seems like an eternity. I’ve dreamed of sinking to my knees and lifting its skirt

to find the prize beneath. She’s wearing that dress for me.

I’m frozen in place, surely gaping at her as the guys walk past. Out of the corner of my eye, I see their smug faces. Drew

gives Fi a nod.

“Thank you, Drew Bee,” she says to him, drawing out the initial in his last name with affection.

“Anytime, Fi-Fi.” His smile is wide and satisfied.

I remember that they know each other and live in the same town and hang out. I’m instantly jealous of Drew for that. But he

clearly helped set up this meeting with my girl, so I can’t hold it against him.

My attention is on Fi, anyway. On her hesitant smile, the shine of happiness in her eyes. She lifts her arm, holding up a plastic produce bag full of something lumpy.

Her slightly husky voice drifts over the space between us. “I know guys bring girls flowers, but I figured you’d be more into

food. I brought you some cherries—”

Her words cut off with a squeak as I wrap my arms around her slim frame and lift her high. I kiss her without hesitation,

opening her mouth with mine, my tongue sliding along hers. She tastes of cherries and Fi, and smells of joy.

My joy. My Fi.

Like that, I’m overwhelmed. Fuck, I’m almost weepy. And I’m all but mauling her on the street.

My voice is rough when I pull back and smile down at her. “Did you eat some of my cherries?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I had to see if they were okay. I’m not going to give you subpar cherries.”

“You’ve got a whole theme going here.”

“I’m not very subtle, Ethan,” she says with a goofy grin. “Better get used to it now.”

“Don’t ever change.”

She’s still in my arms, her feet dangling around my shins, those sweet tits of hers pressed against my chest. I can’t help

kissing her again, on the warm spot just below her ear, the corner of her mouth, which always makes her shiver.

Hell, I can’t stop kissing her period.

And she’s running her fingers across my nape, massaging the tight muscles there as if she knows how badly I need it.

“Fi...” I can’t even talk.

“Show me your home, Big Guy.”

Problem is, I don’t think I’ll be able to let her go once she gets there.